That Pig of a Timer
Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2021 12:43 pm
For a good many of us, the experience of driving a century-old car isn't about convenience or reliability. In fact, historical purists see frequently required maintenance and inconvenient breakdowns as part of the game. Other folks are just looking for some reliable fun. They're okay with putting demountable wheel rims and spare tires on a car that was not manufactured with them and feel the same about replacing an original, truffle-snuffling commutator with a Volkswagen distributor. Such modifications certainly improve the reliability of the car and if you're going to do a lot of touring, reliability counts for a lot.
I'm not a devout purist. For safety reasons, my car has extra stop-lights, 4-way flashers, turn-signals and a 12-volt electrical system which also powers a self-starter. Hand-cranking is a no-no for me because I'm in personal possession of a stack of vertebra and discs evidently in need of major surgery and titanium reinforcement every eight years, so I can't afford to be a purist. But hey, neither have I crossed over to the dark side! See, I'm of the opinion that part of the warp & woof of the Model T Ford is its famously cantankerous pig of an ignition system—one seemingly having been inspired by that British titan of automotive electrical systems, Lucas. Okay, okay; nothing is really that bad. In fact, the porcine coil & commutator ignition system on Henry's pride and joy was designed by a Ford patriarch by the name of Ed "Spider" Huff—though Henry did try to hog all the credit for it (Sorry, couldn't resist). The flywheel-magneto, coil and commutator ignition system was a unique beast unto the Model T, its primary purpose, that of avoiding payment of royalties to the patent-holders of industry-standard magnetos—which were simple, self-contained, extremely powerful and dead reliable. Oh, well.
Yes, the Ford roller-timer is the kind of piggy which only a muppet frog could love. The fact that a new timer design has come out every year since the Ford Model T started rolling off the assembly line, and continues to this very day, is clearly indicative of that. Could it really be that in over a century, nobody has come out with a timer that does not create a need for next year's new-and-improved model?
My Flivver came with an original roller-timer and it caused no end of trouble. Unfortunately, I, being a newbie to the hobby, didn't know enough to point an accusing finger at the true culprit and whenever my engine would misbehave, I'd wind up shipping coils off to be tuned, replacing the ignition harness, cleaning and re-gapping spark-plugs and taking apart every accessible ignition component to clean and polish all the terminals. On one occasion, a friend came in from out of state to help me diagnose my balky engine and did a compression check which, unexpectedly, turned out perfectly normal. From all appearances, the timer seemed okay, but out of frustration, and not knowing what the heck else to do, I purchased a replacement. Turned out, this little piggy actually fixed the problem.
The old timer sits in a cardboard box on my work-bench and every now and then, when I feel especially boared (Sorry, couldn't resist again), I'll check it over for the umpteenth time, trying to find the hidden flaw. Now, I'm the son of an aerospace machinist, so I know a micrometer from a dial indicator, but darned if I can figure out why this slop-snorting thing doesn't work. It's not out of round, the terminals are all solid, the roller spins free and true—I don't get it.
The new commutator is one of the last rebuilt and overhauled by an old-school machinist/timer guru of sterling reputation before he retired. Though it imparts a smooth idle and good acceleration, it needs to be cleaned with the same monotonous frequency as the porcine unit it replaced—a chore which is a boar (Somebody stop me). I give it a squirt of 5W-30 motor oil every other day of driving and use WD-40 as a solvent when it comes time to clean it. That'll usually keep it behaving for another 170 miles. The lesson learned is that when my engine starts acting up, the most probable culprit will be that swine of a timer; the proverbial fly in the oinkment.
That's all, folks!
I'm not a devout purist. For safety reasons, my car has extra stop-lights, 4-way flashers, turn-signals and a 12-volt electrical system which also powers a self-starter. Hand-cranking is a no-no for me because I'm in personal possession of a stack of vertebra and discs evidently in need of major surgery and titanium reinforcement every eight years, so I can't afford to be a purist. But hey, neither have I crossed over to the dark side! See, I'm of the opinion that part of the warp & woof of the Model T Ford is its famously cantankerous pig of an ignition system—one seemingly having been inspired by that British titan of automotive electrical systems, Lucas. Okay, okay; nothing is really that bad. In fact, the porcine coil & commutator ignition system on Henry's pride and joy was designed by a Ford patriarch by the name of Ed "Spider" Huff—though Henry did try to hog all the credit for it (Sorry, couldn't resist). The flywheel-magneto, coil and commutator ignition system was a unique beast unto the Model T, its primary purpose, that of avoiding payment of royalties to the patent-holders of industry-standard magnetos—which were simple, self-contained, extremely powerful and dead reliable. Oh, well.
Yes, the Ford roller-timer is the kind of piggy which only a muppet frog could love. The fact that a new timer design has come out every year since the Ford Model T started rolling off the assembly line, and continues to this very day, is clearly indicative of that. Could it really be that in over a century, nobody has come out with a timer that does not create a need for next year's new-and-improved model?
My Flivver came with an original roller-timer and it caused no end of trouble. Unfortunately, I, being a newbie to the hobby, didn't know enough to point an accusing finger at the true culprit and whenever my engine would misbehave, I'd wind up shipping coils off to be tuned, replacing the ignition harness, cleaning and re-gapping spark-plugs and taking apart every accessible ignition component to clean and polish all the terminals. On one occasion, a friend came in from out of state to help me diagnose my balky engine and did a compression check which, unexpectedly, turned out perfectly normal. From all appearances, the timer seemed okay, but out of frustration, and not knowing what the heck else to do, I purchased a replacement. Turned out, this little piggy actually fixed the problem.
The old timer sits in a cardboard box on my work-bench and every now and then, when I feel especially boared (Sorry, couldn't resist again), I'll check it over for the umpteenth time, trying to find the hidden flaw. Now, I'm the son of an aerospace machinist, so I know a micrometer from a dial indicator, but darned if I can figure out why this slop-snorting thing doesn't work. It's not out of round, the terminals are all solid, the roller spins free and true—I don't get it.
The new commutator is one of the last rebuilt and overhauled by an old-school machinist/timer guru of sterling reputation before he retired. Though it imparts a smooth idle and good acceleration, it needs to be cleaned with the same monotonous frequency as the porcine unit it replaced—a chore which is a boar (Somebody stop me). I give it a squirt of 5W-30 motor oil every other day of driving and use WD-40 as a solvent when it comes time to clean it. That'll usually keep it behaving for another 170 miles. The lesson learned is that when my engine starts acting up, the most probable culprit will be that swine of a timer; the proverbial fly in the oinkment.
That's all, folks!
