I've been lurking around here for a little while, but figured I'd start out with the story behind our family's original 4-speed 78 Malibu Classic.
It was around 1984 when Dad bought the Bu from the used car lot of a Jaguar dealer in Denver. I went with him to pick it up. This made the 3rd G at the time to add to a 79 Elky and 78 Malibu wagon already in the fleet. This one was different though. 2dr, bucket seat car with the 4-speed 305 combo. It was a Malibu Classic with a Landau top, non-a/c, am radio with crank windows. It also came with the F41 suspension and a posi rear axle. Funny thing was the original owner that traded it off was well in his 70's when he bought the 'Bu new. Needless to say, the old man driving it was not kind to the clutch as we stopped no less than 3 times on the way home from the dealer to make a futile attempt to adjust it to get it home.
Dad and I replaced the clutch in the driveway shortly after bringing it home. We cruised it with the stock gold honeycomb hubcaps for a while until we got our hands on a set of N90 Monte SS wheels. It didn't get driven much except on the weekends every now and then. Dad made an attempt to teach my older sister how to drive a manual trans with it and promptly pulled the keys after 10 minutes of lurching/bucking. I almost lost my lunch in the back seat over that one. The car still was a fair weather cruiser until I was in high school. One summer during high school Dad decided to let me drive it so I could get used to driving a manual trans. My skill on it was better than my sister's. The Bu was a big switch from my Nova, which at the time had a well worn and tired 307 that could be clocked by a sundial. I had a ball driving it. I drove it like a madman most of the time and got pretty good launching it from stoplights against just about anybody that would run against me. Surprisingly, the 2bbl 305 had a good amount of spunk when coupled with the 4-speed. I surprised many carb'd 5.0 mustangs and 3rd gen Camaros. Most of the time I could get them out of the hole but couldn't hold them off when the 305 was running out of breath. Still I hammered on that poor rebuilt clutch like it was a rented mule for most of the summer.
Near the end of that summer reality started creeping in. The Bu was getting harder to drive by the day. You could dump the clutch with the throttle floored and the clutch would slip like mad and eventually hook up. Now in a fit of fear of my Dad for shredding the clutch I thought it might be just an adjustment issue. It helped when we brought it home from the dealer so why wouldn't it help this time? With the factory service manual in hand I made attempts at adjusting it in my buddies garage. Adjusted all the way in or out the result was the same. The clutch was toast. Like most scared kids, I parked the 'Bu back in the driveway at home and commenced driving the Nova again. Didn't say squat to my Dad. That was until I got home from Rugby practice one afternoon. I knew I was screwed when I pulled up to the house to find the 'Bu on jack stands in the driveway and Dad under it. I thought I might be able to sneak inside unseen. I thought wrong. A loud booming voice came from under the car, "Hey get over here! What the hell did you do to the clutch?" My best thought was to plead ignorance and make an attempt to shift blame with my response being, "I think the dang clutch is out of adjustment, or something let go on that crappy rebuilt clutch we put in." Needless to say he wasn't buying as he had already dumped about 5 pounds of clutch dust out of the inspection cover of the bell housing. After one of the biggest *ss chewings of my then young life I was advised my punishment would be to pay for the parts needed to replace the clutch and put it in. Rather than buying another rebuilt clutch Dad got a new McCleod (SP?) heavy duty which pretty much tapped out my summer earnings. We ended up replacing the clutch in the new garage we built and I played the part of the trans jack. While I bench pressed the cast iron saginaw over my chest, Dad fiddled with lining the input shaft to the clutch. It seemed like forever with that damn trans held up by me. I'm sure it was a final bit of punishment as he had used an actual input shaft from another trans as the alignment tool. Just when my arms were ready to give out the trans slid right into place.
We each drove the 'Bu after the clutch was in. Then we Backed it into the new garage and parked it. It's still sitting right there today. 15 years worth of parts collection has locked the poor 'Bu into it's space. I'm working on Dad to get the garage sorted out so that we can release the 'Bu from it's slumber. Here's a crappy shot from back in the day....
It was around 1984 when Dad bought the Bu from the used car lot of a Jaguar dealer in Denver. I went with him to pick it up. This made the 3rd G at the time to add to a 79 Elky and 78 Malibu wagon already in the fleet. This one was different though. 2dr, bucket seat car with the 4-speed 305 combo. It was a Malibu Classic with a Landau top, non-a/c, am radio with crank windows. It also came with the F41 suspension and a posi rear axle. Funny thing was the original owner that traded it off was well in his 70's when he bought the 'Bu new. Needless to say, the old man driving it was not kind to the clutch as we stopped no less than 3 times on the way home from the dealer to make a futile attempt to adjust it to get it home.
Dad and I replaced the clutch in the driveway shortly after bringing it home. We cruised it with the stock gold honeycomb hubcaps for a while until we got our hands on a set of N90 Monte SS wheels. It didn't get driven much except on the weekends every now and then. Dad made an attempt to teach my older sister how to drive a manual trans with it and promptly pulled the keys after 10 minutes of lurching/bucking. I almost lost my lunch in the back seat over that one. The car still was a fair weather cruiser until I was in high school. One summer during high school Dad decided to let me drive it so I could get used to driving a manual trans. My skill on it was better than my sister's. The Bu was a big switch from my Nova, which at the time had a well worn and tired 307 that could be clocked by a sundial. I had a ball driving it. I drove it like a madman most of the time and got pretty good launching it from stoplights against just about anybody that would run against me. Surprisingly, the 2bbl 305 had a good amount of spunk when coupled with the 4-speed. I surprised many carb'd 5.0 mustangs and 3rd gen Camaros. Most of the time I could get them out of the hole but couldn't hold them off when the 305 was running out of breath. Still I hammered on that poor rebuilt clutch like it was a rented mule for most of the summer.
Near the end of that summer reality started creeping in. The Bu was getting harder to drive by the day. You could dump the clutch with the throttle floored and the clutch would slip like mad and eventually hook up. Now in a fit of fear of my Dad for shredding the clutch I thought it might be just an adjustment issue. It helped when we brought it home from the dealer so why wouldn't it help this time? With the factory service manual in hand I made attempts at adjusting it in my buddies garage. Adjusted all the way in or out the result was the same. The clutch was toast. Like most scared kids, I parked the 'Bu back in the driveway at home and commenced driving the Nova again. Didn't say squat to my Dad. That was until I got home from Rugby practice one afternoon. I knew I was screwed when I pulled up to the house to find the 'Bu on jack stands in the driveway and Dad under it. I thought I might be able to sneak inside unseen. I thought wrong. A loud booming voice came from under the car, "Hey get over here! What the hell did you do to the clutch?" My best thought was to plead ignorance and make an attempt to shift blame with my response being, "I think the dang clutch is out of adjustment, or something let go on that crappy rebuilt clutch we put in." Needless to say he wasn't buying as he had already dumped about 5 pounds of clutch dust out of the inspection cover of the bell housing. After one of the biggest *ss chewings of my then young life I was advised my punishment would be to pay for the parts needed to replace the clutch and put it in. Rather than buying another rebuilt clutch Dad got a new McCleod (SP?) heavy duty which pretty much tapped out my summer earnings. We ended up replacing the clutch in the new garage we built and I played the part of the trans jack. While I bench pressed the cast iron saginaw over my chest, Dad fiddled with lining the input shaft to the clutch. It seemed like forever with that damn trans held up by me. I'm sure it was a final bit of punishment as he had used an actual input shaft from another trans as the alignment tool. Just when my arms were ready to give out the trans slid right into place.
We each drove the 'Bu after the clutch was in. Then we Backed it into the new garage and parked it. It's still sitting right there today. 15 years worth of parts collection has locked the poor 'Bu into it's space. I'm working on Dad to get the garage sorted out so that we can release the 'Bu from it's slumber. Here's a crappy shot from back in the day....
