A Ten Dollar Helmet

In the early 1970's when motorcycles were losing some of their outlaw image, Bell Helmets ran an ad that has become synonymous with risk analysis: "If you have a $10 head, buy a $10 helmet. If your head is worth more, buy a Bell." The helmets were expensive: About $640 in today's dollars, or 15% of the cost of a brand new 1970 Honda CB750, the first mass production 'superbike.' While the "Easy Rider" bad-boys were wearing defiant German Stahlhelm half-helmets, the Bell owners often lived to tell about a terrible crash and the Stahlhelm crowd...not so much.

Coincidental to this story, when I was young and dumb (and not too long ago) I was in a terrible rush to do some maintenance on my 1971 Super Beetle. I really, really wanted to 'git-r-done' and in my haste I finished on time, drove off and almost killed my dumb self.

Half of the problem was cheapness. The other half was laziness. The third half (!) was the internal stampede which causes teenagers to optimistically engineer according to appearance instead of heft. "I looks like it will hold. Let's go," has been the sad opening lines to many tragedies and near misses. The details of my personal idiocy are too mortifying to repeat: Suffice it to say, the fact that I didn't fetch up injured, dismembered, dead (or all three) was a miracle of Providence.

In my experience, some people outgrow this adolescent recklessness, and others make it a way of life.
The Vintage VW clan is infamous for its brand of tin-can patches and 'paint the dirt' solutions. Maybe it's the brand's reputation as an inexpensive novelty. Maybe it is because it attracts cheap dreamers. Unfortunately, there's a difference between frugality (don't waste your money on the bling; just wash it and wax it and keep it in good running repair) and cheapness. (Wherein every possible corner is cut to avoid paying for a correct product, yet still be able to to say 'it runs.')

Those of us who have been left holding the bag of someone else's half-assed work scream in frustration when these kinds of corner cuts bite us. The high ampere cable, spliced together with wire nuts and electrical tape that bear the weight of the hanging cable. The steering tie-rod ends with zip-ties standing in for cotter pins. Even fuel hose doing double duty as brake reservoir hose. They're all symptoms of what a former supervisor (and still close friend) refers to as the "It's Miller Time!" mentality: If it holds together until I'm out of sight, I'm home free.

While I've experienced all sorts of mechanics and tradesmen who produce rip-offs like this, doing this consciously to your own ride, or your own house is not just self defeating, it could qualify you for your own Darwin Award. Worse, you might wind up grieving and in the State Pen. for manslaughter when your daughter makes a left turn in that car you used the zip tie on...which suddenly heads uncontrolled into oncoming traffic when the steering tie-rod lets go...

What brought these terrible ideas to mind lately was listening to some very good people discussing (proudly!) some very bad engineering for vehicle conversion. Instead of selecting the right part for the job, they discuss the work in terms of "what I've got lyin' around." This isn't the same as the hoarder who has the entire McMaster-Carr back catalog in his shop. This is what my father (a mechanical engineer, welding inspector and specialist in nuclear safety systems) refers to as "kick into place at assembly, file sharp edges, and paint to match." It is placing a dubiously high value on having saved a nickel every time you have to replace that $20 part...because you have to replace it so often.

Living in the shadow of dear old dad caused me to develop this mantra for my Bus conversion:

"No part shall go on my ride that is of lesser quality than would be expected in modern automobile manufacturing."

This doesn't mean that a part needs to be made using the same methods: manual plug welding stands in fine for arc-spot welding. An anticipated 20 year life span is reasonable for any modern manufactured part. If a fastener is going to take a beating, use stainless instead of zinc coated fasteners. If you can't get stainless, prefer zinc plated over plain galvanized. Always uprate by one tier over what is require to merely 'make it work.'

There are times when a part must be fabricated to equal or better than factory standards. Obviously, most of us aren't skilled or tooled up to that. There are lots of fabricators out there who are, and if you plan to play in this hobby, it costs money to have their help.

I'll admit my own cut-corner temptations: I had originally thought to use pre-cut pieces of tubing and couplers for my coolant loop. I've had a 'Gates log' (36" length of straight hose) recommended to me to snake my way down to the radiator from my engine with lengths of hose unsupported and sagging like grandma's panty-hose. I was reminded by one of the other thermodynamic engineer wing-nuts I hang out with that 'Hose is a wonderful insulator. Are you trying to insulate the hot coolant to the radiator?' He suggested 16g Stainless Steel tube because, in addition to having a smaller OD and easier to route, it will be radiating heat for its entire length. You must take this into account when you're routing all of the other components, but you'll be throwing off heat efficiently all the way to the radiator and back.

The second half of this example is equally telling: All those pre-cut hoses and elbows and tubes...every time you transition, you have a potential site for a leak. You can't (and shouldn't) plumb the whole thing end to end with metal tubing even if you could, because you're going to have to take pieces out for maintenance so there must be some couplers in the loop. Just minimize them and you minimize the opportunities for leaks. For every part you put in, ask, "How many parts am I going to have to remove to replace this if it conks out?"

When Boeing (a former employer of mine) built the 777, it was the first plane that had been wholly designed (every panel and rivet) in a computer first, not only to make sure it would go together correctly, but also so that it could be engineered in advance for ease of assembly by humans (reach, component weight, arm turning radius) and also so it could be maintained without having to gut a whole section of the plane to get to a $100 part that had gone bad. That's why it is the most popular wide-body airliner in the world: It is easy to maintain and repair, which leads to more time in the sky, making money for its owner.

Therefore, the three cardinal rules for sane adaptation:


1. Use the right materials for the job: Nothing less than what you'll expect on a new car. If you have a part already, that doesn't mean its the right one for THIS job. Match the right part to the project, not the other way around.

2. Fabrication is part of the deal. Either ruin a few nice classics and become an expert yourself, or pay someone else to exercise their specialty on your behalf. DIY what you can, but know your limits. You'll be on the road that much sooner.

3. Pre-visualize assembly. Your clever idea will bite you if a $10 part requires a 200 mile tow and two days in a modern garage because you can't R&R it without removing the engine AND transmission.

Have you been a "Miller Time!" man? It's never to late to change your ways and start thinking like a mortal in a 50 year old VW, instead of approaching cruel reality with a "Ten Dollar Head."