piston search
#41
That's how they did it at the factory when the engine was originally manufactured.
I don't believe I've ever seen an off-the-shelf piston larger than 79.5mm for the 1.6l engine, though either Wiseco or JE will custom-manufacture a piston to damn near any spec you could want.
I guess the big question would be why? Good 1.8l blocks are a dime a dozen, and there are plenty of lower-than-stock-CR pistons available for them.
I don't believe I've ever seen an off-the-shelf piston larger than 79.5mm for the 1.6l engine, though either Wiseco or JE will custom-manufacture a piston to damn near any spec you could want.
I guess the big question would be why? Good 1.8l blocks are a dime a dozen, and there are plenty of lower-than-stock-CR pistons available for them.
#42
And if this guy made as much power as he did with ARIAS 81.5MM pistons and a ton of Miata tuners in Japan run them... they are fine.
http://forum.miata.net/vb/showthread...ighlight=arias
http://forum.miata.net/vb/showthread...ighlight=arias
#45
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You do know that Weisco/CP/JE will make you whatever you want for $600 right? Tell them you want a B6 Miata piston in an 89mm bore size and they'll make it for you.
Because a 1.8 will literally bolt into the chassis you have now with zero fabrication work, whereas any other motor (including the somewhat-popular FE3 swap) requires custom motor mounts at a bare minimum.
Just out of curiosity:
-What is the wall thickness of a stock 1.6 motor? (Not the difference between cylinders, the actual wall thickness as measured by cutting a block in half or sonic-testing)
-What do you think the safe limit of the thickness of a 1.6 block is, and where would that be measured? You do realize that at least some of these motors will likely have casting shift that produces a .030-.040" variance from top to bottom in the cylinder?
Just out of curiosity:
-What is the wall thickness of a stock 1.6 motor? (Not the difference between cylinders, the actual wall thickness as measured by cutting a block in half or sonic-testing)
-What do you think the safe limit of the thickness of a 1.6 block is, and where would that be measured? You do realize that at least some of these motors will likely have casting shift that produces a .030-.040" variance from top to bottom in the cylinder?
#46
Just out of curiosity:
-What is the wall thickness of a stock 1.6 motor? (Not the difference between cylinders, the actual wall thickness as measured by cutting a block in half or sonic-testing)
-What do you think the safe limit of the thickness of a 1.6 block is, and where would that be measured? You do realize that at least some of these motors will likely have casting shift that produces a .030-.040" variance from top to bottom in the cylinder?
-What is the wall thickness of a stock 1.6 motor? (Not the difference between cylinders, the actual wall thickness as measured by cutting a block in half or sonic-testing)
-What do you think the safe limit of the thickness of a 1.6 block is, and where would that be measured? You do realize that at least some of these motors will likely have casting shift that produces a .030-.040" variance from top to bottom in the cylinder?
the other parts I'm not sure on like the safe limit,
Last edited by Techsalvager; 02-28-2011 at 01:46 AM.
#47
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I'd discuss that safe limit with someone more extensively before blindly following someone down such an aggressive path. If there's really a quarter inch of available wall thickness, slugging it out .140" shouldn't be a problem - having said that, I would urge you to have YOUR block thoroughly sonic-checked for thickness. The last thing you want to do is put $3-4k into a shortblock like this and end up with a cracked/deformed wall.
#54
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So you're dead set on running an OEM piston that was designed for a non-Mazda engine...
Wanna know where you can find a listing of pretty much every common piston in the world, sorted by size?
In a ******* piston catalog.
http://www.supertechperformance.com/...php?id_categ=4
Wanna know where you can find a listing of pretty much every common piston in the world, sorted by size?
In a ******* piston catalog.
http://www.supertechperformance.com/...php?id_categ=4
#56
Boost Pope
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Location: Chicago. (The less-murder part.)
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Techsalvager, if you were my kid, I’d un-make you for being such a retard.
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”
#57
Techsalvager, if you were my kid, I’d un-make you for being such a retard.
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”
A single tear of joy just crept down my cheek.
#60
Techsalvager, if you were my kid, I’d un-make you for being such a retard.
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”
I’d do it at night, under the cover of darkness, with no one but the alligators to bear witness. Your body would never be found, for there would be nothing to find. Carefully butchered into chunks no larger than my hand, you would simply pass through the tremendous digestive system of the great lizards, and emerge from the other end as a soft, semi-gelatinous mass devoid of recognizable bones, teeth, or any other identifiable parts.
The next day at breakfast, as I sat hungrily devouring a stack of buckwheat pancakes, your mother would turn to me and say “Honey, have you seen our son this morning?”
At that moment, I would take her. Right there on the kitchen table before the open window, I would thrust myself deeply into her, ignoring the prying eyes of our neighbors and the barking of the dogs as plates and utensils rain down from the table like Triple-A shrapnel over Dresden. Each time I exploded into her, I would pause to allow her a moment’s recomposure before beginning my tremendous assault anew with redoubled ferocity. Despite her screams and wailing, my back and shoulders raw as hamburger torn by her fingernails, I would not falter but continue to have my way like an unstoppable machine fueled by hate and lust.
Finally, after three or four hours, I would at last withdraw, not because I am exhausted, but because it is clear that she finally can stand no more of this assault and live. As the dogs lapped up our sweat and bodily fluids, I would look deeply into your mother’s bloodshot eyes as she wept with joy and ecstasy, and say “Those were some damn fine pancakes.”