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a380flightdeck · 7 years ago

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FOR A WHOLE HOST OF REASONS, airports are often bewildering, maddening places. There is much to be found in the modern-day terminal to enrage, confuse, or vex the traveler. Where to begin?

The following list was inspired by a layover I spent not long ago at Incheon International Airport (ICN), serving Seoul, Korea. Not to take away from perennial survey-toppers like Amsterdam’s Schiphol or Singapore’s Changi Airport (amenities at Changi include a movie theater, a swimming pool and a butterfly garden), but Incheon stands as the most functional, attractive, and overall flyer-friendly airport I’ve ever visited. It’s cavernous and immaculate, with a cathedral-like calm throughout. Security and immigration are a breeze; international transit is effortless. The staff at the multilingual information desks are disarmingly helpful. Amenities include free internet, free showers, luggage storage, cellphone rental desks, a post office and massage facilities. Relaxation areas, with sofas and easy chairs, are set away from the main thoroughfares. There’s a cultural center, a museum, and a full-service hotel inside the secure zone, allowing those with extended layovers to rent a room without the need to clear immigration. Or, if you’re feeling energetic, a tour desk arranges free excursions to Incheon city. If you’re headed into Seoul, the airport’s high-speed rail connection will have you downtown in under an hour. Why can’t every airport be like this?

FIFTEEN THINGS NO TERMINAL SHOULD BE WITHOUT:

1. A fast, low-cost public transportation link to downtown.

In a way, choosing a favorite airport is like choosing a favorite hospital: amenities aside, nobody really wants to be there in the first place, and the easier and faster you can get the hell out, the better. To that end, every terminal should have a public transport links similar to those across Asia and Europe. The examples of Portland, Oregon and Washington-Reagan notwithstanding, rail links in the United States aren’t nearly as convenient – when the exist at all. Or how about JFK, where for hundreds of millions dollars they finally got the AirTrain completed — an inter-terminal rail loop that connects only as far as the Queens subway. It can take 45 minutes, up and down a Rube Goldberg assembly of escalators, elevators and passageways, just to get from one terminal to another, let alone all the way to Manhattan.

2. In-transit capabilities

It’s a shame that American airports cannot, for whatever reasons, recognize the “in transit” concept. In the United States, all passengers arriving from other countries, even if they’re merely passing through on the way to a third country, are forced to clear customs and immigration, collect and re-check their luggage, and pass through security screening. It’s an enormous hassle, unheard of in most of the world. And it costs our airlines millions of annual customers. Why change planes in the US, where you’ll have to stand in three different lines, be photographed and fingerprinted, re-check your bags and face the TSA gauntlet, when instead you can transfer seamlessly in Frankfurt or Dubai? Indeed this is part of what has made carriers like Emirates, Singapore Airlines, and others so successful.

3. Complimentary wireless internet

What do we do at airports? We kill time. And there are few better and more productive ways of killing time than logging on to the Web. Send an email to your mistress, read my blog, Skype your friend in Slovenia. Many, if not most major terminals do have Wi-Fi access, but it’s often expensive and cumbersome (few things in life are more irritating than those credit card payment pages). It should be everywhere, and it should be free.

4. Convenience stores

It appears the evolution of airport design will not be complete until the terminal and shopping mall become indistinguishable. I’m okay with Starbucks and souvenir kiosks, but it’s the saturation of high-end boutiques that always confounds me. Apparently there isn’t a traveler alive who isn’t in dying need of a hundred-dollar Mont Blanc pen, a remote-control helicopter or a thousand-dollar massage chair. And what’s with all the luggage stores? Who on earth buys a suitcase after they get to the airport? What we really need are the same sorts of things we buy at CVS or the corner convenience store: basic groceries and dry goods, stationery, and personal care items. Brussels and Amsterdam are two that do this right, with in-terminal food marts and pharmacies.

5. Power ports

I didn’t realize that passengers have a right—nay, a duty—to mooch electricity from their carrier of choice, but at this point it’s a lost cause to argue. I hope your battery isn’t dying, because good luck finding an outlet that isn’t hooked up already to somebody’s iPhone or computer. Airlines should throw in the towel and build more charging stations.

6. Showers and a short-stay hotel

Another amenity that is common overseas but sorely lacking in North America. No serious international terminal should be without a place to wash up or crash for a few hours. Passengers arriving from overseas can shower and change before their next connection. Those with longer waits can grab a nap in one of those pay-by-the-hour sleeping pods.

7. Play areas for children

Truth be told, airport play areas encourage toddlers to shriek and yell even more than they already do, but at least they’re doing it in a localized area that’s easy for the rest of us to avoid. Ideally, this spot should be in a soundproofed bubble six miles from the airport, but a space at the far end of the concourse is a reasonable alternative. The Delta terminal in Boston has a pretty cool kidport, but nothing tops the “Kids’ Forest” at Amsterdam-Schiphol. I’d play there myself if nobody was watching.

8. Better dining options — i.e. fewer chain restaurants

Chick-fil-A, Burger King, Sbarro’s. Airport cuisine isn’t a whole lot different from the shopping mall food court. We need more independent restaurants serving actual food, ideally with a local bent.

The next time you’re at LaGuardia, check out the Yankee Clipper restaurant over at the Marine Air Terminal. That’s the circular building at the far southwest corner of the airport, with the art deco doors and flying fish relief along its rooftop. Yankee Clipper is a cafeteria-style place on the left-hand side of the rotunda. It’s good greasy spoon food with absolutely no corporate affiliation. The Marine Air Terminal was the launching point of the first-ever transatlantic and around-the-world flights, and the restaurant’s walls are decorated with historic photographs. You can eat in, or take your sandwich out to one of the wooden benches beneath the famous James Brooks “Flight” mural. Commissioned in 1952, Brooks’ expansive, 360-degree painting traces the history of aviation from mythical to (then) modern, Icarus to Pan Am Clipper. Its style is a less than shy nod at Socialist realism, and at the height of ’50’s McCarthyism, in a controversy not unlike that surrounding Diego Rivera’s famous mural at Rockefeller Center, it was declared propaganda and obliterated under gray paint. Not until 1977 was it restored.

9. An information kiosk

Where is the Yankee Clipper restaurant? Where is the nearest ATM? Where is the nonexistent subway link to the city? Every arrivals hall ought to have personnel who can give directions, hand out maps and make change.

10. A bookstore

Reading on planes is a natural, am I right? Why then is it so hard to find a proper bookstore at an airport? (Not all of us pre-load our reading material on a Kindle.) Not long ago, every major airport had a proper bookseller. Nowadays they are harder and harder to find, and usually what passes as a bookstore is really just a newsstand hawking a thin selection of business books, thrillers and pop-culture trash. Believe it or not, travelers’ tastes extend beyond Sudoku, Suze Orman, and the latest CEO autobiography.

11. Sufficient gate-side seating

If the plane at the gate holds 250 people, there ought to be a minimum of 250 chairs in the boarding lounge. There is something uncivilized about having to sit on the floor while waiting to board. Do we sit on the floor when waiting for a table in a restaurant, or at the doctor’s office? When Changi was built in Singapore, the gates were outfitted with no fewer than 420 chairs, matching the number on the average 747.

12. Escalator etiquette

Americans haven’t figured out how to behave on an escalator. If you’re not in a hurry, stand on the right and enjoy the ride, allowing those of us with a flight to catch to walk on the left. Instead we stand in the middle, hogging up both sides. Ditto for moving sidewalks. The point of the moving sidewalk is to expedite your passage, not to indulge your laziness. You’re not supposed to stand on it, you’re supposed to walk on it. And to take yet another page from the Europeans and Asians, what prevents us from fitting escalators and sidewalks with a light-beam trigger that shuts off the motor when nobody is on them? Ours run constantly, riders or no riders, wasting huge amounts of energy.

13. A view

Why are so many architects intent on hiding the fact that airports are actually airports? Gateside seating always faces away from the windows, and the windows themselves are sometimes intentionally opaqued or obstructed by barriers. Why? Penty of people would enjoy the opportunity to sit and watch the planes go by. You needn’t be an airplane buff to find this relaxing, or even a little exciting. As a bonus, more windows mean more natural light — always welcome over harsh fluorescents.

14. Bring back the airstairs!

Have you ever taken a good look at a jet bridge (or Jetway to use the proprietary term), that strange umbilicus connecting terminal to fuselage? One thing to notice is how ridiculously overbuilt they are. Do we really need all of that metal and cable and wire and hydraulics for what is, at heart, a simple gangway?

Of course, I am opposed to jet bridges on principle. I prefer the classic, drive-up airstairs. Some of the international stations I fly to still employ those old-timey stairs, and I always get a thrill from them. There’s something dramatic about stepping onto a plane that way: the ground-level approach along the tarmac followed by the slow ascent. The effect is like the opening credits of a film — a brief, formal introduction to the journey. By contrast, the jet bridge makes the airplane almost irrelevant; you’re merely in transit from one annoying interior space (terminal) to another (cabin).

Save your emails. This is just me being romantic. The benefits to the jet bridge are obvious — inclement weather, disabled passengers, etc. – and I realize there’s no going back.

15. Last but not least, some aesthetic flair

If an airport has one aesthetic obligation, it’s to impart a sense of place: you are here and nowhere else. On this front, Europe and Asia again set the standard. I think of Lyon and its magnificent hall by Santiago Calatrava, or Kuala Lumpur with its indoor rainforest, and a dozen places between, where terminal design is a point of expressive pride — where it makes a statement, be it quietly stylish or architecturally stupendous.

Take the magnificent Suvarnabhumi airport (pronounced “Su-wanna-poom”) in Bangkok, Thailand. Its central terminal is the most visually spectacular airport building I have ever seen. At night, as you approach by highway from the city, it looms out of the darkness like a goliath space station — a vision of glass and light and steel, its immense transoms bathed in blue spotlight. Or for sheer character, try the little airport in Timbuktu, Mali. Here you’ll find a handsome, Sudanese-style building emulating the mud-built mosques ubiquitous in that country.

With scattered exceptions (Denver, San Francisco, Washington, Vancouver), there is nothing comparable in America. To the contrary, some of our most expensive airport renovations have been terrible disappointments. JetBlue’s wildly overrated home at JFK, for example. Terminal 5 – or “T5” as the carrier likes to call it — is a $743 million, 72-acre structure that opened in 2008 to considerable promotion and fanfare. Inside, the atrium food court and rows of shops conspire to make yet another airport feel like yet another mall. The Wi-Fi is free, and so is the noise and claustrophobia at the overcrowded gates. But it’s the exterior that’s the real tragedy. Although the street-side facade is at worst cheerless, the tarmac-side is truly abominable — a wide, low-slung, industrial-brutalist expanse of concrete and gray. Once again it looks like a shopping mall. Or, to be more specific, it looks like the back of a shopping mall. All that’s missing are some pallets and dumpsters. The facility’s only visual statement is one of not caring, a presentation of architectural nothingness, absolutely empty of inspiration — precisely what an airport terminal should not be. Is this the best we can do?

It’s ironic that Eero Saarinen’s landmark TWA “Flight Center” sits directly in front of T5, itself part of the JetBlue complex. The TWA building is supposed to serve as an entryway lobby and ticketing plaza for T5, though for now it remains semi-derelict and only partly renovated. I wish they’d finish the thing so that more people could appreciate what is arguably the most architecturally significant airport terminal ever constructed. Regarded as a modernist masterpiece, the Flight Center opened in 1962 and was the first major terminal built expressly for jet airliners. Saarinen, a Finn whose other projects included the Gateway Arch in St. Louis and the terminal at Washington-Dulles, described his TWA as “all one thing.” The lobby is a fluid, unified sculpture of a space, at once futuristic and organic. It’s a kind of Gaudi inversion, a carved-out atrium reminiscent of the caves of Turkish Cappadocia, overhung by a pair of cantilevered ceilings that rise from a central spine like huge wings.

And just to the north of T5 used to be the National Airlines Sundrome, designed by I. M. Pei. It opened in 1970 and was named in honor of National’s yellow and orange sunburst logo and its popular routes between the Northeast and Florida. After National was folded into Pan Am, the terminal was taken over by TWA. Later it was used by jetBlue, then abandoned and torn down. Pei and Saarinen, a half-minute walk from each other. Our airports ain’t what they used to be.

Am I making too much of this? While terminal design and passenger friendliness are important, isn’t it the operational aspects of an airport—the state of its runways, taxiways, and logistical infrastructure—that ultimately matter most? Indeed, but here too the situation is worrying, as any American who travels globally can attest. Once again, it’s a funding issue. Our airports are failing, and nobody wants to pay for them.

“Other parts of the world are more enlightened in their aviation policies than we are,” said Greg Principato, North American president of the Airports Council International, speaking at a conference in 2012. He added that members of the U.S. Congress have a poor understanding of how the upkeep and renovation of U.S. airports needs to be funded. “They have a sense that airports are economically important,” he explained, “but don’t really understand why.” Principato warns that the declining state of its airport infrastructure puts the United States “at risk of being turned into a feeder system for the global aviation network.”

But let’s change gears for a minute, and move from what airports lack to something they have too much of. To me, the single most annoying thing about airports is how noisy they are. I’m not talking about the noise from jet engines. I’m talking about the in-terminal noise. I’m talking about the sounds of humanity on the move, with our shrieking kids, and our beeping electric carts, our laughing and our shouting and our cellphone chatter. All of it amplified by the sadistic acoustics of the typical terminal.

And what makes this a distinctly American problem is our peculiar infatuation with public address announcements. As we’ve already seen, there are plenty of good ideas that American airports can borrow from their counterparts in Europe and Asia, but perhaps none would be more appreciated than realizing that passengers need not be assailed by a continuous loop of useless and redundant PAs: security alerts, boarding calls, traffic and parking directives, promotional and welcome messages. You’ll often hear two or more announcements playing simultaneously. I’ve heard up to four of them blaring at once, rendering all of them unintelligible in a hurricane of noise.

Intensifying this bombardment are those infernal gate-side television monitors blaring CNN Airport Network. These yammering hellboxes are everywhere, and they cannot be turned off. There is no volume control, no power cord, no escape. Every gate has one, and they run twenty-four hours a day. Not even the employees know how to shut them up (believe me, I’ve asked).

All of this sonic pollution does not make passengers more attentive or keep them better informed. What it does is make an already stressful and nerve-wracking experience that much worse.

On a lighter note, am I the only one struck by the phenomenon of teenage girls carrying big fluffy pillows onto airplanes? I’m uncertain when this trend got started, but take a look around in any terminal, anywhere in the world, and you’ll see girls clutching big fluffy pillows.

What’s wrong with this? Nothing. It’s a great idea, especially now that carriers no longer dispense even tiny, non-fluffy pillows on all but the longest flights. In a window seat, putting a pillow between your body and the sidewall creates a comfy sleeping surface. I only bring it up because, on behalf of guys everywhere, I feel excluded. It’s unfair. Grown men like me can’t walk through airports with big fluffy pillows unless we’re willing to get laughed at. We’re stuck with those neck pillow things.

But this isn’t right. To hell with dignity, I say. It’s time to rise up and break the pillow barrier. Who will be first? I’m thinking we should organize a march — a line of men strutting through the concourse, pillows proudly in hand.

“We’re men, we’re strong, this is true, Fluffy pillows aren’t just for you! Downy soft, pastel blues, Come on girls, let us snooze!”

Later, in the parking lot, we can high-five and toss a few of those neck braces into a bonfire. And I smell a gold here mine for airport merchants. Instead of luggage and massage chairs, why not a pillow shop right there in the terminal? No need to lug one from home when you can pick one up gate-side for just a few bucks. You’d have a choice of foam or feather, and a selection of pillowcases to pick from. To entice the guys, cases could be emblazoned with camo patterns and beer logos.

#Airbus A380 #a380flightdeck

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itsworn · 8 years ago

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Slant Sickness! How To Add 77 HP To Your Mopar Slant Six!

If you’re a regular Mopar Muscle reader and don’t own a Slant-Six right now, chances are, at some point in life you did. After all, between 1960 and 1991 over 12.5 million of the buggers were built. Though a short deck (9.06-inch versus 10.70-inch) 170ci version was sold between 1960 and 1969, and a de-stroked 225 with 198 cubes (3.64 instead of 4.12 inches) took its place from 1970 through 1975, the majority were 225s. Sharing a common 3.40-inch bore dimension with the 170 and 198, Chrysler rated the 225 at 145 horsepower at 4,000 rpm and 215 lb-ft at 2,800 rpm under the old “gross” testing protocol. When the more realistic “net” rating system was adopted in 1972, the 225 came in at an even 100 horsepower and 170 lb-ft.

But that’s just a jumping off point. We wanted to know how much power a 225 makes with improved intake and exhaust capacity. So for the first time in magazine history, we stuck a 225 on the dyno at R.A.D. Auto Machine and spent two days comparing the factory 1-barrel, 2-barrel, and two Aussie Speed ram-style 4-barrel manifolds with a Holley 390cfm carburetor. We also compared the new two-piece Dutra Dual cast-iron exhaust header against the factory log-style manifold. And our timing is perfect.

That’s because the Slant-Six is currently enjoying a popularity boom with retro-minded street rod and rat rod builders seeking a super-affordable break from the predictable world of Brand X V8s. And Mopar fans—especially the A-Body set—are also digging in. Rather than swap the Slant-Six for a V8 like we used to do, many are hopping them up, even going as far as adding a turbo and cranking 11s.

With its eye-catching 30-degree list to starboard and slick long-runner intake manifold, the 225 (and its smaller siblings) has become a go-to engine for builders seeking something radically different. And thanks to the eye-popping Aussie Speed intake and Doug Dutra exhaust manifolds that just hit the market, the all-important “wow” factor skyrockets when the hood goes up. No kidding, if you pop the hood on an Aussie Speed equipped Slant-Six parked next to a Hemi ’Cuda, you’ll probably steal the scene.

Before we dive in, sharp readers will notice our particular block has a shiny, bright appearance. That’s because it’s one of the nearly 50,000 die-cast aluminum engines (block only) offered as an option in 1961 and ’62 Valiants and Lancers. At 64 pounds, the aluminum block was a featherweight compared to the normal 130-pound iron 225 block. The idea was that the reduced weight would improve handling, braking, acceleration, prolong tire life, and eliminate the need for power steering. The price for the aluminum block 225 (sales code 502) was just $47.35, a hundred bucks less than the AM radio!

To streamline production, Chrysler designed the aluminum engine so it shared everything with its iron block sibling except for the head bolts, main cap bolts, and head gasket. This means all the data gathered in this story applies to the cast-iron 225 sitting under the bench in your garage.

In the end, Chrysler’s Kokomo, Indiana Forge and Foundry Division, where the die-cast blocks were made alongside Torqueflite transmission cases, suffered a greater-than-expected scrappage rate. That is, too many blocks were emerging from the 2,000-ton die-casting machine with imperfections. Also, at $30, each aluminum block cost Chrysler $6.00 more to make than iron. Multiplied by millions, it wasn’t sustainable. So, that’s why the aluminum-block 225 option was quietly dropped after 1962.

Okay, let’s dig in and watch as Donnie Wood and the R.A.D. Auto Machine crew show how to nearly double the power of a Slant Six with simple bolt-on goodies!

The subject engine began life in a 1962 Lancer GT and is number 37,415 from the 50,000-unit production run. Though Chrysler painted the aluminum block to protect it from corrosion, the absence of core plugs behind the exhaust manifold—and non-magnetic surfaces—identifies the lightweight version.

The original window sticker reads “hi-performance,” but the aluminum block 225 is not to be confused with the 1960-’61 Hyper-Pak over-the-counter performance kit. The last two digits of the 502 sales code appear on the fender tag. Note that the exotic aluminum mill cost $105.50 less than the AM radio! For reasons unknown, aluminum-block cars received absolutely no unique advertising, brag badges, valve cover or air cleaner stickers, or other external identification.

Iron 225 blocks can safely take a 0.060-inch overbore, but the integrally-cast iron bore liners limit the aluminum block to 0.020 inches over. Slant-Six guru Doug Dutra says, “treat any aluminum 225 like it’s made of glass.” In other words, forget about turbocharging and nitrous.

The pen highlights the die cast 225’s unique open deck and thin layer of parent aluminum surrounding each iron cylinder liner. Unlike the replaceable iron cylinder liners used by some other aluminum block engine types, the alloy 225 is “cursed” with integrally cast liners that cannot be replaced. This .250-inch wide rail of metal is all there is to seal combustion pressure.

The aluminum block requires a discontinued multi-layer head gasket (FelPro part No. 8000). We bought the last two Olson’s Gaskets had in stock but others turn up frequently online. To show off the unique design, each side is displayed on the work bench. The copper face mates to the block surface. Commonly available iron block gaskets (in hand) fail when used on aluminum blocks.

After balancing and polishing, R.A.D. installs the 74.4-pound forged crank. All 170, 198 and 225 Slants share Hemi-sized 2.75-inch main journal diameters. Beware of cast-iron post-1976 cranks. They’re strong but have non-interchangeable narrower bearing surfaces which make 1977-up 225s a breed unto themselves. Parts don’t mix.

To suit the softer aluminum block, longer main cap and head bolts must be used. The pen points to the reduced shank diameter. They torque to 50 lb-ft. If lost, ARP offers specially designed stud kits designed to work with the softer aluminum/copper/silicon alloy block material needed to facilitate the 10,000psi injection-molded manufacturing process.

The aluminum 225 accepts the same wide-bearing crank, rods, and bearings as any pre-1977 225. The beefy 6.707-inch long forged rods weigh 26.8 ounces and must be installed with the oil squirt holes facing the passenger side of the block. Egge Machine supplied the 16.4-ounce cast pistons, which are 0.020 oversize and bring displacement up to 230 cubes.

Sealed Power chrome moly rings ensure a quick break-in. With their flat tops, these cast pistons duplicate the stock 8.4:1 compression ratio. Safe for general street performance use, the lighter cast aluminum construction helps reduce reciprocating mass for improved efficiency and throttle response.

The Slant-Six head can safely withstand a 0.100 thousandths deck cut. This reduces chamber volume from 54 to 44cc and bumps compression from 8.4 to 9.2:1 with stock flat-top pistons. At 59.2 pounds, the 225 head (bare) weighs exactly one pound more than a bare iron 426 Street Hemi head.

Though it is possible to jump from 1.62-/1.36-inch valves to 1.70-/1.44-inch valves, instead we spent the money on a “bowl hog” cutting operation to relieve the port transitions behind the valves. All work was performed by R.A.D.’s Dylan Berthiaume.

The pen points out the old-school one-piece Chrysler solid lifters which have been replaced (industry wide) by taller multi-piece solid (and hydraulic) lifters. Due to our extreme 0.100-inch cylinder deck shave, the stock 9.975-inch push rods were .250-inch too tall for re-use. Hughes Engines solved the problem with a set of 9.730-inch long, 3/8-inch diameter chrome moly push rods (top).

Hughes Engines is a pioneer in considering the fact Chrysler lifter diameters are larger than Brand X units and refining its cam profiles to maximize the difference. We chose part No. STL0610I6—a solid, flat-tappet cam with 0.474-/0.483-inch lift and 206-/210-degrees duration (at 0.050-inch lift). Though much more active than the stock item, idle quality is mild. Hughes Engines also supplied the all-steel timing set (part No. 6406S).

The Slant’s one-piece folded, coined, pinch-welded and tapped adjustable rocker arms are an engineering marvel and safe to 6,000 rpm. Lash is set at 0.010-/ 0.020-inch cold. The Hughes chrome moly retainers (part No. 1252) work with Hughes single valve springs (part No. 1110) with 120 pounds closed and 300 pounds at 0.500-inch lift.

Knowing we’d be juggling intake and exhaust manifolds and not wanting to hassle with scraping old gasket fuzz a dozen times, we scored this incredibly helpful Marshall solid copper gasket online. The slick finned aluminum valve cover is from Aussie Speed (part No. AS0170). We painted it, then scraped the color off the fins.

The Davis Unified Ignition (DUI) Tri-Power distributor (part No. 70620) is new for Slant-Six applications. With its integrated Dyna-Mod control module, there’s no need for a remote box, and vacuum advance functions are digital. We set ignition timing to deliver full advance by 3,000 rpm.

DUI also supplied the color-coordinated Live Wires (part No. C9082) secondary ignition cables. The heat resistant glass-braid sleeves and cylinder-marked wires are super convenient. The aluminum spark plug tubes didn’t interfere with the upsized 3/8-inch push rods.

With the basic long-block assembled, here’s a review of the induction and exhaust goodies tested on the dyno for the first time ever in car magazine history.

The stock Carter 1-barrel carburetor and log-style exhaust manifold delivered 130.2 hp at 4,300 rpm and 192.3 lb-ft at 2,700 rpm. If we use the 1972 net factory ratings (100 hp and 170 lb-ft) as a baseline, the effect of the eight tenths of a point compression jump and hotter cam added 30.2 hp and 22.3 lb-ft. The surprise was how the engine idled smoothly without any bogs or hiccups under load despite the carburetor’s miniscule 1.42 square-inch venturi area.

Though Chrysler Marine and Australian 225s were factory equipped with Carter BBD 2-barrel carburetors as early as 1967, domestic use of the so-called Super-Six didn’t arrive until 1977 on Volare and Aspen station wagons. The 260cfm BBD (also factory issued on 273 and 318 small-block V8s) wowed us with 151 hp at 4,700 rpm and 204 lb-ft at 3,300 rpm. Again, the small carb didn’t need any tuning and ran smoothly. The 20.8 hp and 11.7 lb-ft gains make the Super Six a high demand item on the swap meet and boneyard scene.

After separating the Super-Six intake manifold from the factory log (three bolts), we installed a set of Dutra Duals and got 162.4 hp at 4,200 rpm and 215.1 lb-ft. at 3,300 rpm, a bump of 11.4 hp and 11.1 lb-ft. At 28.8 lbs, Dutra’s beefy high-flow castings weigh 8.2 pounds more than the stock iron log and should last forever.

The Slant-Six’s intake hiss can be heard a block away without an air cleaner. With a fresh Purolator element (part No. A30052) in the stock 8×3 inch housing (with the base opened to fit the larger BBD) we lost 4.9 hp and 1.5 lb-ft (157.5 hp at 4,200 and 213.6 lb-ft at 3,400 rpm), a small price to pay for protection from grit.

Moving to the heavy artillery, the microscopic factory induction was replaced by an Aussie Speed short-ram manifold (part No. AS0470) and Holley 390 (part No. 0-8007). The small Holley is ideally sized for the 225. The short ram’s overall length is 12 inches, 3 more than the stock 1- and 2-barrel castings.

Surprisingly, the Holley was a bit lean out of the box so R.A.D.’s Steve Chmura replaced the stock 0.050-inch primary jets with 0.058s and replaced the 0.053-inch secondary metering plate with a larger 0.060-inch unit. This delivered a satisfactory 14.4:1 average air/fuel ratio. After surgery, the 225 cranked 177 horsepower at 4,200 rpm and 232.3 lb-ft at 2,800 rpm. Compared to the BBD 2-barrel, this was an extra 14.6 horsepower and 17.2 lb-ft over the Super-Six and a whopping 46.8 horsepower and 40 lb-ft over the 1-barrel baseline.

For the grand finale, the Holley 390 was transferred the Aussie Speed Hurricane long-ram intake manifold (part No. AS0024) with the Dutra Duals left in place. With its 15.5-inch overall length and added plenum volume, could 200 horsepower be in reach?

It was not to be. After 35 full-throttle dyno pulls, the aluminum block’s Achilles heel—head gasket failure—reared its head. The dark regions adjacent to the spark plugs show where cylinder pressure escaped. Fear not, the damage will be repaired and this aluminum oddity will run again.

The post Slant Sickness! How To Add 77 HP To Your Mopar Slant Six! appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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