A Map and a Mustang: How to go off-roading in your lowered, loaded-down vintage Mustang

The first step to going off-roading in your lowered, loaded-down vintage Mustang is... don't go off-roading in your lowered, loaded-down vintage Mustang. However, if you MUST (for reasons of necessity or, like myself, clinical insanity), it is best to go very slowly. In particular, it's best to avoid potholes (or wheelbarrowholes, more likely) and wallowing around uneven terrain on vintage suspension. It's also a good idea to ensure that you do not end up anywhere where you get stuck - say, on a one-lane road with a mountain wall on one side and a cliff on the other side. Backing up over terrain is even worse than going forwards over it.

What's prompted this discussion and advice on things you shouldn't do with a vintage Mustang? Why, things I've done with mine, as usual. Today we headed out from my Colorado home base to go northwards before heading west again. The first hour and a half of the drive was absolutely lovely - one of my favorite drives that I know of. Nothing but wide open spaces and gigantic mountains looming in the background miles and miles away.

But, after an hour and a half, we had gotten a little bored! So, we decided to stop off at McCullough Gulch, which TripAdvisor told us was a nice 2-mile hike up to a waterfall in the alpine region of the Rockies. What TripAdvisor failed to notify us of was that the trailhead was 2 miles up a very poorly maintained gravel road. But for whatever reason, I decided that I was going to go up there anyways. And so we wallowed our way gamely up the mountain through potholes, washboard beds, pits of water, washouts, and cobbles. I'm surprised that Jane did it - I would not have blamed her a bit for stalling out and refusing to start again 50 feet up this accursed road. But she didn't, and so we pressed on, feeling more and more concerned every passing minute. Most of the reason for this concern was the narrowing of the road and simultaneous increase in noise from the - you guessed it - fuel pump. By the time I made it up almost all 2 miles of this stupid road, the pump was absolutely screaming. It worked, but man was it letting me know how hard it was working.

This is the part where it looked nice before all of the nonsense occurred.

We eventually had to stop as we encountered a series of pits that was too deep for Jane (in her overloaded state) to cross. Then we had to back up and find somewhere to turn around, and parked (facing the wrong way) on the side of a cliff. At this point I was not happy and neither was Jane. When I got out of the car I noticed that the gas cap was making a sound much like something interested in either escaping or exploding from the tank. I pulled the cap and it released a lot of pressure - and the gas in my tank was boiling! Uh... not good. I decided the best course of action would be to ignore it and fix it later, after a bit of a hike.

McCullough Gulch is undoubtedly beautiful - the trail runs right along this lovely large stream with many small rapids and falls.

Unfortunately, despite my attempts to ignore my car's problems, I was unable to and so we ended our hike early shortly after someone else's dog had drooled on my leg in an attempt to get me to give it my ham sandwich. Still, I was happy that we got to enjoy at least some nice views - and even happier to see that the gas was no longer boiling in my car when I returned to it!

The gas tank on my car has two separate vents - one in the cap, and one coming from the top of the tank down a hose, ending above the rear axle. I crawled underneath the car to inspect (I make this sound easy, but it is incredibly difficult when the car is nearly sitting on the ground) and rattled the check valve pretty hard. I think it may have been stuck, as the rest of the day I had no problems with pressurization of the tank. However, the more major problem that I discovered was the source of my fuel pump's screaming: a mostly-crushed fuel line! When I ran the fuel lines for my new fuel system, I foolishly didn't take into account my future crazy endeavors and ran the lines right over the rear axle. This would normally be fine as everything usually is 6" or more from the trunk floor (where I ran the fuel lines). But because she's been so loaded down, everything was a lot closer under there - and it turns out that every time I went over a big bump (or, you know, through multiple potholes), the rear sway bar rammed the fuel line into the trunk floor, squashing it. Excellent work, Kelly!

Well, at least it's scenic.

I babied her back down the road from hell, fuel pump constantly reminding me of my failures as a mechanic even as the suspension creaked dangerously in every crack and crevice in the path. Eventually we made it back to civilized roads - surprisingly, with absolutely no complaints or silly business - and headed on to the nearest town to get gas and call to consult with Chas. His belief was that we should remove the rear sway bar (the offending fuel line smasher) and squash the fuel line back to round with a pair of pliers. So we looked for a lift in town to put Jane up on, but there were none. There were none in the next town over either, and thus we said "screw it" and trucked on to our destination for the night.

The original plan was to find a shop in the morning with a lift to put Jane up on so we could pull the sway bar and fix the line. There were no jackstands in sight and I had no interest in being crushed by my own car if we relied just on a jack to hold her up while I worked under her. Eventually after some frustration and goading, I was motivated enough to cram myself back under my car to do everything myself. As long as I didn't try to take a deep breath or turn my head I could fit under there, and so the rear sway bar was removed with much swearing and contortion. I also squashed the fuel line back out and hopefully it will be okay for a while now! When I'm done with my trip I will be making a new one that is routed much differently.

So that's where we're at now. The fuel pump is screaming, the fuel line is more or less round again, parts of my car have been removed, and yet Jane gamely soldiers on. I'm sure by now that mostly she just runs so that she has more opportunities to harass me down the road (though this incident was 100% my fault, to be fair), and I'm pretty okay with that.

More adventures to report later I'm sure! Kelly signing out.