It’s been about three years since I
embarked on this journey called restoration (well, five if you count the two
years I spent looking for my Century), and I’ve learned a lot. You’d think that
three years should be enough to fully restore any car, and that’s what I
probably would have believed three years ago.
Born out of a desire to do something
different and out of my frustration with trying to measure up to impossible
standards with modern, high-performance cars, this Buick project is a
sentimental return to my childhood. My father and I forged some great memories
behind the wheels of his old cars, and while there was often great frustration,
there were more often times when everything clicked just like it was supposed to
and life was grand. This restoration is also an education—I’ve acquired skills
that are practically non-existent today, skills that are impossible to develop
by simply ordering parts out of a catalog and bolting them onto your car. I look
at myself today as a craftsman and an artist as much as an engineer and
mechanic. There’s a “rightness” to this work which satisfies the mind and the
soul in equal parts.
Three years seems like a very long
time to me and I often wish I were farther along on this project than I am.
There have been long stretches where no work has gotten done (those stretches
probably add up to more than a year), and others where a lot has happened in a
very short period. For someone doing this part-time, I think that’s about par
for the course—sometimes life gets in the way of living. But I’ve also found
that a busy person gets more done than someone with a lot of free time, so I
work very hard at staying busy.
The last three years have also
confirmed that the old car hobby is more about people than it is about the
hardware. Sure, the cars are great, but they’re just the glue that hold the
hobbyists together. Those people are the substance of the hobby, and almost
without exception, they’re great people. I have dozens of new friends from all
over the world, united in our love of all things automotive. I correspond
regularly with people in Australia and Finland, as well as with people in my own
home town with whom I’d lost touch. Whatever animosities our countries may have
with one another, they’re lost on us because in our hearts, we’re all the same.
My friend Rex Stubbs
in Australia loves the sound of his Buick’s straight-8 as
much as Jyrki Pykäri in Finland loves the shape of his ‘46’s fastback
trunk. It’s as if we could meet and be old friends on the very same day because
of our commonality of experience and the depth of our passion. To me, it is an
honor knowing people like this.
Perhaps I should contrast this
experience to working on race cars and building high-performance street cars. In
that arena, you had to be faster, able to go around corners better, and have
show-stopping paint and detail work just to feel like you belonged. There was
attitude and ego and competition in everything you did, from pulling your car
off the trailer (which had to be nicer than everyone else’s) to talking to other
car guys and appearing to be interested, but not too interested, as if
you’d already been there and done that. The competition was always
on. It was exhausting.
With these old cars, they’re all neat
in their own way. An all-original ’39 Chevy with years of dirt caked on the
engine is just as interesting to me as a ’32 Duesenberg SJ with a fresh
restoration. They’re both cool because someone enjoys them. The owner of the
Chevy doesn’t have to compete with the Duesenberg’s owner over anything but a
parking spot on the show field (and even then, I doubt it would happen). There’s
a casualness to the hobby at this level, maybe even a level of respect for one
another that has nothing to do with the hardware. You have your favorites, I
have mine—cool. That’s extremely refreshing. I think if we played up this
angle, perhaps we could attract more young people to the old car hobby instead
of lamenting their interest in hot rods and race cars.
I look back at some of my early
entries in the Restoration Log and can see how much I’ve learned. Back then, I
was a little intimidated by the size of the project and concerned about making
mistakes. Today, many mistakes later, I’ve come to realize that the mistakes are
the best teachers of all. There haven’t been many major SNAFUs, but I know I can
rebuild one of these Buick transmissions practically blindfolded, weld in patch
panels as well as anyone else and polish stainless steel to a
professional-looking luster. At the beginning, I took copious notes on every
single nut I removed and shot a dozen photos of each part I removed. Today, I
make simple sketches and take one or two photos. This isn’t because I’ve become
lazy, but rather because I know that this old Buick isn’t as complicated or as
arcane as I thought. I can do this!
Working on this
web page has been a pleasure, too. But the very best part of putting my project
out here for everyone to see are things like this E-mail from my friend Chuck
Marrs
(whose 1937 Buick is on the
Readers' Cars pages):
Hi Matt,
I "FINALLY" started working on the car. I started with the brakes. I
removed the front with no problems, sand blasted the drums and the
backing plates, gave them a nice coat of POR15 and they look great. I got
to the back brakes and removed the drums, cylinders, springs and shoes,
again with no problems, well now came the rear backing plates. How do
you remove the backing plates? I knew the axle had to come out but,
how do you do that? Well I starting looking all over the place for some
sort of retaining ring, clip, pin or something, nothing. I looked in
the shop manual, again nothing.
Well, to let you know why I'm sending this e-mail, I remembered that
you had made mention of the brakes for your car so I went on to your
website and looked back through your archives and found the brakes, however
that's not where I found the solution, The solution was in your the
axle removal log. I just wanted to thank you again for your web page and
the amount of information and help that it is giving me. Your
documenting is wonderful
Both you and Julia have a great weekend,
Chuck Marrs
How cool is
that?
Most of all, I’ve discovered that
this work has improved the quality of my life. I’m a high-stress person and I
juggle a lot of projects, jobs and responsibilities. But when I’m working on my
Buick, the whole world shrinks down to the size of a 2.5-car garage. It’s
soothing to be out there, rarely frustrating, never stressful. That’s something
I’ve never experienced before in this hobby, and it became crystal clear last
weekend when I lost my temper just changing the exhaust
on my Mustang. No, there’s something about that Buick and the work I’m doing on
it that is very relaxing. Julia never complains when I want to work on the Buick
because she knows how good it is for my mental health. She
can see the difference in my behavior after a garage session (or lack thereof!).
The last three years have been a
great
experience for me. I feel like I’ve finally found my place, and it’s ultimately
right back where I started. I think I’ll stay for a while; I really like it
here.
See you next month!
(And thanks to all of you dropping your change in the
tip cup
and shopping at Eastwood! It
definitely makes a difference. In fact, I just got my first check from Eastwood.
Though it probably wouldn't even buy me a tank of gas in the Buick, every little
bit helps. Thank you!)
E-mail me at toolman8@sbcglobal.net
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Last modified on
06/17/2005
Thanks, Fidget!