Beverly Hillbillies, Part Deux

[m3a1]

I reckon the replacement tube for the roller tire doesn't count because it belongs to the other chassis...and the replacement tire was free.

Lights, signage and whatnot; that which was bought specifically for the car's Halloween mission was - $26 for the Funeral Director signs, $13 for a new purchases in Halloween lighting (I might have used older lights of course) and $20 per side for the vintage Funeral Flags on the fenders. I just had to have those, even as pricey as they were. To help defray the cost, I made the standards for them and the toppers on those standards are vintage, nickel plated toppers... The real deal, just like the flags.

Don't ask me why I had 'em. I just tend to collect, and hang onto stuff like that.

Other than the Halloween things I bought for the car which add up to $79 and which may end up on some other Halloween task (so, does it really count?) I have zero dollars invested. The TIME we invested is another thing altogether. My father called that 'Sweat Equity'.

I think the point is, if one can practice being a bit miserly on one end, you'll have a few extra guilt-free bucks to spend on the other. Granted, the car didn't start out being what it is at the moment but DANG, it's doing a good job!

Now, how about a few pics?

Enjoy.

Skeletons climb menacingly over the fence on either side of the front gate. Do you dare enter here?

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Beware the Duck of Death!

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Can you outrun the Unicycle Clown? Let's find out!

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Sharing a nice bottle of BOOs..

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Hayseed on a barrel.

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[m3a1]

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[rickf]

I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!! Can you do just the black lights alone or do you have it set up for all of the lighting at once?

[m3a1]

Either, or both. I believe I sent you a video so you know the lights in the back are rotational and that they change color.

The limitations of the rotating light are that the base of the light is meant to be set low and the projections go up at an angle from there. Can't do that in this space without removing the back of the front seat. In my opinion, that's just not worth the extra effort.


It's almost always the best policy to make do with what ya got otherwise it quickly becomes a project that is far too time consuming. Besides, once the front seat is removed, y'all will want me to begin repairing the floor pan... Yeah. I know how you fellas think!

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

Okay, this is growing beyond my control. On a lark, Bill and I returned to the '49 Ford with a genset and the death wheel along with a long extension cord (and lots of cutting discs) and began the process of removing the body, aft of the B-pillar. The weather was very nice and it just seemed like a good day for it.

Frank wandered over and we showed him some pics of what had become of the '47 and I mentioned that some of you had suggested that I actually do something with it. Frank stared off into space for a moment and then said that he thought he might have had a replacement grill for it...somewhere.

Just shoot me now.

Well, I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that. If the replacement grill shows up, we'll all cross that bridge together, when (and if) we come to it. The 49 proved to be a bit more than we had allowed for because, yup, the back half of the body is still on there. I simply made plunge cuts around the body mounts and with lever and fulcrum we began to make sense of figuring out where things were hanging us up, such as mounts we had not discovered owing to there still being quite a bit of dirt on the body floor.

One by one we knocked them out and worked our way forward but I was getting pretty badly beaten up by the irregularities in the floor pan and all the kneeling and crouching. Friends, having a bad back is no picnic. There were the fuel tank straps (for a fuel tank that was utterly shot out with rust and yet, stubbornly keeping the floor down and a hidden body mount just off-center by the trunk catch.

The last cuts I made were the forward wing supports of the wheel-house (the ones that keep the body panel from sailing). They were completely hidden because the car is still very much in the ground and I only discovered them by knocking on the floor pan much as one does when trying to find a wall stud hidden behind sheet rock. Knock until the hollow sound becomes solid and you're there.

The floor pan is bisected immediately behind the front seat and yet something mysterious is hanging the whole thing up between that point and those wings. We will find it....just not today. I was pretty tired and decided to call it quits for the day. Not a good idea to keep on keepin' on with the death wheel when you're tired. Still, we're much further along than we were and success will be ours on the next visit.

By the way, Frank gave us a little back story on the '49 Ute. It was being used by a local nursery as a kind of pickup truck. I suppose using an actual pickup truck didn't occur to them. Maybe it actually looked kinda cool and was something of a promotional tool. At this late date I'm having trouble visualizing that level of cool-ness but, who knows. Anyway, the car eventually conked out and Frank came along and bought it, brought it home and then never did anything with it (which was probably a good thing because it's transformation into a ute really was an amateurish job); a job which we are busily erasing with the death wheel just as quickly as we can.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

These photos are perhaps a little too close in for anyone to get a sense of the project of removing the floor pan. I'll get a pic of the whole thing that will help with that, later.

What I am doing here is removing a panel so that there is space to get in there with a reciprocating saw to buzz through the rocker panels (this happens on both sides).

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Panel by my left elbow is the bit that holds the window regulator for the rear, side window. Here, I am making a series of plunge cuts around a body mount, located just ahead of the wheel house.

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All of this work is meant not only to lighten the load but also to allow me access to the rear end and chassis (if there even IS a rear end!) and to make it altogether easier to dispose of the remains of the car once the salvage process is complete.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

It's HALF TRACK TIME!

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Or... We are back.... on TRACK!

[m3a1]

*sigh*

I am really no good at this fuel supply stuff. My layout is about as sensible as lining up a bunch of circus clowns to form a bucket brigade and have them just trot alongside the half track and pour fuel down a funnel into the carb to keep things going.

My particular half track is the proverbial village bicycle...i.e., everyone has had a ride. As a result, the only remnants of the original fuel system are the two large, self-sealing fuel tanks (which are only still on board because I have no better place to store them) and the fuel pump (which I dare not use and which I don't care to spend gobs of cash to replace) and a carburetor. All of these things have absolutely nothing connecting them to one another aside from the fact that they all happen to reside on the same vehicle.

All the little brackets for the original fuel lines and all the tricky little passages in and around all the goings on under the thing are very notably absent or are a mystery not yet revealed to me.

In some ways, this leaves me free to lay my fuel lines just about any way I want to but it pains me to know that I am missing the original mark by a country mile. However, the goal is to get the half track running and I have no reason to believe I'm not going to hit that target so....whatever.

Running hard fuel line isn't all that difficult but it leaves one mentally exhausted from creating all the necessary bends, twist and turns. These lines move through all three axis to get where they're going. One only generally knows the terminus of each stick of fuel line as it is laid in and one does not know which way would be best to go from there. It's a lot like climbing a mountain and reaching the crest, only to find another higher mountain beyond that.

In order to appreciate the process, just imagine Lewis and Clark going into the wilderness, barefoot, blindfolded and dressed only in their BVDs and equipped only with white canes with red tips. Now imagine them getting hints on which way to go only from the occasional squirrel they may come across. In this way, you might even bet money one of these explorers will finally end up eating the other before the expedition is ended. And where squirrels are concerned, if you have any doubts about a squirrel's particular lack of direction, just watch one when you find it in the road in front of your car as you bear down upon it. They are definitely not the critters you want to get your directions from.

Nope.

So, looking to make some sense out of the matter, I simply resorted to laying out the key parts of my system where each piece would be most convenient for me. Filter(s) go where they are convenient for me to get at. The electric fuel pump remained where it was, not out of convenience but because, aside from having to rotate it 180 degrees from where it was, well, that was good enough. These waypoints then formed a sort of road map for laying fuel line. Kinda like Ezekiel connecting dem dry bones.

The head bone's connected to the...

The only thing I'm going to claim about my fuel system is, the fuel will eventually get to where it is needed...and it won't leak all over the place. The process of making things up as one goes along has a few drawbacks and a few bonuses. The first drawback is, by the time you get really good a predicting all the little brass pieces and parts you'll need for the next segment of fuel system, the job is pretty much done. I'm convinced that no one really finally becomes a genius at the process. Once the installation complete all is immediately forgotten and we go right back to being all thumbs about it.

The notional bonus is, all the trips back to O'Reilly's (or other) for brass fittings and fuel line; all these things eventually earn you behind-the-counter privileges...chiefly because the counter guy has really had enough of you for one day and he would rather talk to people with reasonable requests for things like, left-handed metric bearing stretchers, blinker fluid and fifty feet of water line....

or it might just be for another reason altogether.

Once you're finally behind the counter and standing before all the little drawers that hold all the little brass thingies, you quickly discover that a hundred other guys have been there before you and not one of them has put anything back where it belonged. Plaintive voice heard from the darkness back in the aisles of parts - Will someone PLEASE come back here and shoot me? I just don't wanna live anymore! Waaaaaah!

Yup...that's the guy looking through all the drawers of brass fittings.

The counter guy KNOWS this is the situation so he's glad to let you go back there. So, the whole process becomes a series of near misses wherein the little pictures glued to the end of each drawer promise the perfect solution but deliver nothing but more pain and frustration. Then you look through the drawers around the little drawer that offered the perfect part on the off-chance that the last guy put something back, nearly (but not quite) in the correct drawer. Then you finally conclude the only thing left to do is go to some OTHER parts store. Then the grim realization sets in that you will get to repeat the whole pointless process AGAIN...just somewhere else.

Frankly, this is my idea of what Hell must really be like.

Then comes my least favorite part. Routing the fuel line up, around and over the engine and finally, over to the carburetor. Naturally, the carburetor is the 'Promontory Pointe' of the whole process. A good railroad builder would have simply tunneled through the engine block, come out the other side and hooked up to the carb. Problem is, there's never a good railroad builder around when you need one.

So I had to resort to kind of a lazy pathway up one side of the engine that, when it finally got to the level of the head, once again squared itself up and resumed a more businesslike appearance. But, HEY, I got it to the carb.

I am grimly resigned to going back in and making things look a bit more professional at a later date. It will mean having to take the time to create some appropriate bracketry to provide the necessary support in and around the engine compartment. There's always time to do it twice, but never time to do it right.

Boy oh boy, ain't THAT the truth!.

Cheers,
TJ

[m3a1]

What a day.

What

A

Day!

We spent the whole day doing everything that would lead to a successful launch, involving
another parts run (naturally)
and then installing an el-cheapo temperature gauge
and then finally mounting the carburetor
and then deciding to examine the oil bath air cleaner
and then adding one million dollars in coolant
and then providing power to the electric fuel pump
and then checking over all the connections..again
and then changing the oil
and then installing the fuel tank
and THEN running around like chickens trying to find things we overlooked.


The parts run was genuinely different from previous parts runs in that the list was (a) blessedly short and (b) less about building an entire half track out of tiny brass fittings and more about supporting what was already there and in need of finishing.

Coolant made up the bulk of the parts-run bill (something like $15 per gallon after tax) with our immediate coolant needs being just a bit more than four gallons. Cha-ching $$$$! It would have been six gallons but, I had wisely left quite a bit in the block. Happily, I had already invested in the motor oil which would have knocked today's bill right out of the park if I had bought it today. Alas, I had no dead batteries to trade in for a discount (and friends, I looked for some...twice).

We might have simply blocked off the fitting for the temperature gauge (I considered it) but with a $20 gauge staring me right in the face at O'Reilly's, I took that as a sign and dropped it into the basket with all the other goodies. Oh boy, was that a wise decision and not only because this would be the first time I ran this half track WITH a thermostat!

When we got back, Bill and I fitted the temperature gauge to the dashboard; filling in the gaping hole left behind by some noticeably absent gauge that is so far removed from memory (if there ever was one there) that even I cannot bring to my mind what might have been in that hole. Half tracks use a single instrument cluster that is meant to monitor all the business going on under the hood. So, I suppose whatever had been in that open hole had more to do with the price of tea in China than anything else.

Well, let me tell ya...that gauge fit in there like a glove and I ain't kiddin' ya! There was even a hole in the firewall through which we passed the line and bulb to the fitting on the head. It simply couldn't have been any easier. I admit am suspicious of the accuracy of the gauge. Its needle is already above the post but we will soon see what the 'normal' operating range is and I'll mark it up with a paint pen and all will be hunky dory. All I need to know is what is optimal.

Sooner or later my rig will be nice enough to justify putting in the BRAND NEW, NOS instrument cluster. Until then, we make do.

I set Bill a couple of tasks while I fiddled with the carb. Bill would install a grommet to protect the new temp gauge line as it passed through the firewall and I had him remove the vacuum line leading to the firewall where it connected to a tee meant to power both vacuum wiper motors. Yes, I DO have new vacuum wiper motors. No, I have never installed them. I may never ever install them. A half track is really not the type of vehicle with which one enjoys fahrvergnügen in the rain. Thus, wipers are totally optional. An umbrella would be a much more useful thing to have.

But, it occurred to me that since I have had the half track, I have had a vacuum leak because of this vacuum line to nowhere. So we blocked it off and removed it. That's an undeniable improvement...right? RIGHT?!!

Well, installing the carburetor was going to be a bugaboo. I knew installing it was going to be a bugaboo because I have done this before and as a result, I had completely resigned myself to facing the difficulties involved with a stiff upper lip. One of the troubles is that the throttle control cable must be attached to the carburetor BEFORE it is installed. There is simply NO way to do it otherwise, because it is located on the base of the carburetor closest to the head and when the carb is bolted down, God Himself couldn't get to it.

I cannot tell you WHY I wanted a throttle control cable in the first place other than there is a small armature for it on the carb on ONE END and a cable for it sticking out of the firewall on the OTHER END. East meets West. I might just as well have left it unconnected but as we all know, eventually some boob would come along and pull on the knob until he had three feet of wire in his lap. That, plus the fact that installing this particular carb is a job so problematic that it is best to just resign one's self to doing it right, ONE TIME and never having to do it again. I can say that with great authority because (naturally) yours truly has done this BEFORE, did it wrong and regretted it...

because here I was, AGAIN!

The process begins with lighting a candle and calling upon the deity of your choice and asking for a little help in advance. No, REALLY! It's spelled out right there in the TM.

1. Light candle.
2. Call upon deity.

Then it is simply a matter of attaching the cable and the cable's supporting bracket, putting the carb on and then putting the bracket on the left rear stud and then seeing if you got lucky and hit the mark where the sweet spot is on the cable wire.

Sounds easy, doesn't it? Well, it AIN'T!

All of this takes place while you lean over that bloody great fender and the inner armor plate. (OH! To be 8" taller! Oh gawd, my ribs!) Repeat the process 254.7 times until the attachment point is satisfactory and then utter an oath (loudly enough for the neighbors to hear) that you will be getting a tattoo to commemorate the moment this particular success was achieved but only after your ribs stop aching from being bent over the fender for 45 minutes.

But wait! There's MORE!

Naw! You didn't think that was ALL THERE WAS TO IT, did ya? Oh no! There is more fun to be had. The base of the Stromberg AAV-2 carburetor is cast in a very unique way. On two corners, it intrudes into the space any sane individual would have reserved for installing the nut over the stud that holds the carb down. So, one must lift the carb up just a touch in order to introduce the nut to the stud and then screw it down sufficiently far to allow the carb to settle down onto the resin insulative block and the two, brand new, freshly-cut gaskets. But, screw it down TOO far and you won't be able lift the carb enough to do the opposing corner. By the way, if you do the opposing corner (left rear) first, likely as not, you won't be able to left the carb enough to install the fastener the right front corner.

So, we may conclude there is not only a trick to this, but there are TWO tricks to this, based upon the order of assembly. This very thing is probably why we rarely ever saw the German Army making use of captured half tracks. Want to disable a half track? Just take your rifle butt and hammer on the carb. Done! the Germans would have rather schlepped across a continent on foot, rather than replace a carb on a half track and by the time they actually figured it out, the war would be over.

The first troublesome nut is really a no-brainer because it is located at the right front corner which is wholly out in the open and you can use a thumb and forefinger to manipulate the nut. The REAL problem spot is located at (you guessed it!) the left rear stud which is completely out of view and nigh unreachable by hand, or tool. This means juggling the carb, and the throttle cable bracket, and the lock washer, and then getting the nut started on the stud with two index fingers; one from the front and from the rear of the carb.

This is all accomplished by feel alone because you can't see it and even it you could see it, it wouldn't help in the least because there is the minor matter of the two opposing index-fingers doing one job in the cramped space whilst all the other fingers and thumbs are doing something else entirely, all at the same time. And, Gentlemen, this sort of nonsense is exactly where we separate the men from the boys....with a garden hose. Yup.

It installs the carburetor and does what it's told, or it gets the hose...again.

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Come to think of it, installing this single nut is a lot like going down with the Titanic. One only has to endure the anguish and the pain in order to survive the ordeal. So, there I stood, trying to be patient with my hands wrapped around the carburetor, wiggling my index fingers and staring off into the middle distance whilst looking at nothing in particular... just in case Bill suddenly got a strange motivation to give me a Wet Willie. Now, it's not that I don't trust Bill. It's because he's never done something like that to me before. But, to my mind, that is exactly the point. It makes it all the more likely he'll get around to it....sooner or later.

After all, there's a first time for everything.

This job is the kind where you shut down one half of your brain and let your little porkies do the work they were meant to do. Coming up on what I reckon was about the 15 minute mark for this one particular fastener, I was thinking that Dad's friend and mechanic would probably be leaning over my shoulder and saying, "At this rate, you'll never be able to feed a family while being employed as a mechanic." Then I was contemplating whether or not I should be whistling up a little 'blue' mechanic's chantey, but at that very moment, the nut finally caught a thread and all the awfulness was over.

For one moment it occurred to me that I might have forgotten to install the bracket which would have meant doing it ALL over again but that fear was quickly laid down and buried. I added the choke cable and the throttle linkages and, WOW....isn't that pretty?...and when it was all over I saw that it only took an hour. One carb, four fasteners, a bracket and two control cables. O n e flippin' H o u r .

WOO HOO! HERE'S TO WRENCHING INSTEAD OF WENCHING!

Or do I have that backwards?

Naturally, with the carb finally where and how it ought to be, I began thinking about buttoning up the intake. So I ran over to the little pile of half track parts and picked up the intake horn which went on sooooo sweetly....but my-oh-my, that oil bath air cleaner was just an awful mess. I don't mind the outside looking like it has leprosy but the working bits DO concern me so I released the oil bath pan from the bottom and it looked pretty good in there but when we poured it out, there was what looked like a partly melted stick of butter swimming beneath the surface of the oil...which has water, of course. After pouring it all out and giving the pan a wipe down it looked great inside. Not good. It looked GREAT! Very nice. I guess lighting that candle didn't hurt after all.

We went on to filling the radiator with $60 worth of coolant (Peak brand because it was the only one to claim to have "10X MORE SCALE-FIGHTING INHIBITORS"). They stopped just short of explaining exactly what it was ten times more than....but I gave them an A For Effort and bought the stuff. It was priced just above the VERY CHEAP stuff. So, I thought that maybe its quality was somewhat above my usual preference (If it's free, I'll take two, thanks). I concluded it simply had to be better than most of my normal choices. Besides, you can drive yourself nuts researching stuff like this....and that's no fun.

But, after last winter's temporary deep freeze, I'm serious about investing in having better anti-freeze in my vehicles around here.

It's as simple as that.

And then we were finally into house-keeping mode; patching in a section of wire to reach the new orientation of the fuel pump and checking fittings to make sure I didn't miss any while installing the fuel line and I did miss one (of course).

Draining the oil was surprisingly uneventful. The drain plug is 1-1/2" and to get to it you have to reach up through an armored plate that surrounds the bottom of the oil pan. With an opening that size, the oil doesn't drain out. It just kinda falls out all at once.

I found I had a tiny bit of water in there as well, but happily, I wasn't seeing ANYTHING untoward. We began with just a little bit of water and the drain plug magnet had NOT ONE BIT of metal on it. But, friends, that oil was oh-so-filthy, riddled with gasoline and carbon and there surely there was a lot of Marvel Mystery Oil in there as well (mea culpa). We took a little oil off the top for use in the oil bath air cleaner because I know for a fact the WWII ordnance maintenance companies used waste oil in just that way. My hat is off to them. Bless their greasy little hearts.

With the air cleaner back together, we switched gears and began putting things away and putting the rest of the waste oil in jugs for recycling and after a little personal clean-up we went back out and installed the fuel tank and the new fuel hose which officially connected it to the fuel system.

Tah DAH!

That done, we put a little oil on the tops of the pistons, put the spark plug wires on, discovered the distributor was still loose and tightened that down to snug. I cranked down on a clamp because some of that expensive coolant was already weeping out and that seemed to take care of that. New hoses will become more pliable once they're warmed up and they'll settle in after a run-up. There WILL be things that are overlooked, not quite tight enough and all that. So, tomorrow, before we attempt to fire this baby up, I'm laying out a table with just about every wrench, screwdriver, rag, line wrench, ratchet, socket; just anything we used to put it all together. All of it right there and all ready so we can dive back in and square up whatever needs squaring up.

Fellas, I think we're going to have this half track running tomorrow! I know. CRAZY, huh?

Cheers,
TJ

[rickf]

All that and you didn't start it?!!!! You are getting OLD!

[m3a1]

Oh man...I was seriously beat up. My back is a total wreck. Halfway through the day I couldn't even get up off the creeper without help, or simply rolling off it like a big, fat walrus. It must be a terrible thing to watch.

After a day of all those ups and downs I feel like I got run over in the circus maximus....

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Trampled.

And yet, Half Track Mania knows no boundaries. However, swearing fealty to the cause does not mean I have to die for the cause. So, yeah...I bailed out...right at the critical moment....and lived to fight another day.

Besides, my mommy was ringing the dinner bell...

[rickf]

So the true reason was food! Well I have not exactly been sitting on my laurels either.
This is the last load of five loads, That is 18' x 7.5' x 2' of wood. Two cords on each load. And this being the last load the back of the truck had a pretty fair amount in it also.

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Now figure, I had to load all that on the trailer by myself, then when I get home I have to unload it all into the bucket of the tractor and run it around to the back of the house and dump it. Back and forth. Here is what I have and consider that one cord was already stacked.

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And yes, my back was screaming for mercy also!!!!

NOW, I still need to build racks and stack it all.

[m3a1]

replicated post deleted

[rickf]

You know, That would go quite well with the picture above it.

[m3a1]

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

The half track has a complete fuel system...or nearly so. Waiting on a few bits in order to regulate the fuel pressure which, according to the TM is supposed to be somewhere between 1.5-4lbs. Otherwise, I think we are just about there. The two fuel leaks I discovered have all been dealt with.

Until the fuel reg parts arrive, I've been doing some tidy up. By the way, when blue painters tape has left on something for years, it becomes something else altogether. (You have been warned) We had a heavy thunder storm last night followed by a while day of extraordinarily high winds which resulted in my Northern Oak trees shedding all over everything with much of it landing smack dab in the half track. Don't ask me how that happens because I don't know.

Between leaf blowing sessions, I also spent some time cleaning up electrical +/- contact points. I may look into R&R-ing the starter to clean the mating surfaces up to ensure good ground between it and the bell housing and I may even be installing a ground strap between engine and, well, wherever seems appropriate. It appears I have a sluggish starter. PHOOEY! Seems a bit slower than I remember and it behaves the same no matter what battery I use. Maybe the starter needs to be gone through.

NAW! It's only 80 years old!

Spent a day last weekend in Warrenton, Texas doing the bi-annual rummage thing. Once again, the ol' golf cart did yeoman service and we motored around like we owned the place and covered a lot of ground. I came home with a few treasures including (imagine my surprise!) a turn of the century wood/coal burning model 119 parlor stove made by McLede. Some strange things leap out at me at times and it's hard to say no. I certainly wasn't shopping for a parlor stove though I have often admired them. But, it was especially hard to say no to this deal which was a give-away price. Alas, it has no foot rests and whatever nickel plating it had was gone after the last guy sand blasted it. Still, I think it's a very handsome piece as is (though the red paint is a bit garish).

Along the way, I even came upon a REAL coal scuttle with REAL coal in it, for which I easily negotiated another sweet price after I assisted the vendor by identifying some WWI militaria for her and suggested she up her price a bit. So, the stove now has some kit to go with it, which will provide it with just a little bit of context which I think is a very fine thing.

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Why is it on my front porch? Well, we got home late and I just had to unload it and put it together on the front porch so Momma could see it when she came home from work.

There is room for some improvements because you don't get a turnkey stove for what I paid and I only buy things that I can put something of myself into. 'Sweat Equity' and all that... Some of the fasteners are missing and you all know how I LOVE installing new fasteners. The finial had gone missing long ago so, while I was in Warrenton, I grabbed up a cast iron fleur de lis to serve as a replacement for a mere $4. It is far less grand than the original finial but frankly, I like it's simplicity a lot better. The original finials just go on and on and on to the point where they are just uniquely ugly.

So, now I am learning more about parlor stoves than I ever wanted to know. Pretty interesting stuff, though. By way of example, these rigs are obviously not limited to parlors but they are also put to use in much larger rooms because as you might imagine, they can put out a LOT of heat. The kicker is, they are dismal when it comes to distributing heat throughout the room.

The dome on top is designed to be removed, exposing a flat surface the size of an extra large skillet and there is a removable, vented hot plate, top dead center which no doubt serves to regulate heat to whatever one might have set upon it. Extremely dubious that it would be left open for any length of time because you would want the smoke to go up the chimney. In fact, there are lots of clever little vents all over the thing; more than just the obvious Dagmars on the lower door and these rely heavily upon adequate air flow for a clean burn.

Cheers,
TJ