My dad bought this truck used 2005. It served him well, but eventually he bought something new and relegated “Old Grey” to backup-vehicle status. Then, one day while driving to work, a milk truck pulled out in front of him. He slammed on the brakes, but there were no brakes there! He managed to avoid a collision, shifted into 4-wheel-drive low to limp it home, and started doing some research.
The problem was the brake lines. They were horrifically rusty. One line finally rusted through, letting the brake fluid leak out and depressurize the system. Replacing those lines is an expensive task for a shop, and for good reason: Snaking new brake lines through an assembled truck is a nightmare of tight spaces and rust (in Wisconsin at least).
So, my dad called me up and made me an offer: Help me fix the brake lines, and I’ll cut you a deal on the truck. My response: SOLD.
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The project was nasty, as we predicted. My hands barely fit into some of the spaces that we had to snake the brake lines through. Meanwhile, rust and dirt was falling into my face the whole time. It was rough, but after about three Saturdays of screwing around later, it was done.
Now the truck is mine. And now comes the rest of the work.