This has been a week of emotional ups and downs, of surge and slack.
Last weekend,
I started cleaning out the garage, packing away t-bird parts into boxes
and putting them on the shelves. My goal is to get everything off the
floor and workbench, so I will have a clean place to work. I think
better when things are tidy. With all the engine parts, chassis parts,
trim parts, etc., the floor of the garage hasn't been clean in over a
year. I'm pretty much finished with painting parts, so I took down the
dropcloth that was protecting the bicycles from over-spray. I started
packing away the paint and painting equipment. I laid out some of the
trim parts in long boxes. I threw away a lot of old camping stuff to
make room on the shelves.
I made a dent in the mess,
but I have a long way to go. While I recognize that this is the
appropriate thing to do now, I found it strangely unsettling. Perhaps I
am subconsciously remembering the helplessness of growing up with
hoarders, how the clutter used to drag me down and sap away all of my
motivation. This led my thoughts down a negative path.
I'm tired. I want to be done with this. I want to move on.
Sunday afternoon, #1
son and I visited a car show downtown. We got there late, and parking
was very difficult, but we stayed calm, persevered, and eventually got a
close parking spot. There were some very pretty cars, including
half-a-dozen early t-birds. I took a lot of pictures, and was
inspired. Here's an interior shot of a nicely restored '55. Mine will be similar, but the wheel will be the color of the dash, and the body will be peacock blue.
Newly inspired, I decided to order the last big batch of parts to get the car on the road. As I tried to put together this big, complex order together, however, I found myself getting upset. I was up after 1AM fretting about it, and
still couldn't get the order out. I couldn't make simple decisions, and
when the shipping charges and tax were added in, I hesitated again.
Isn't there a cheaper way to do this? Should I order from someone
else? My frustration turned to a kind of fear, and self defeat. Then I
felt the helplessness grip me. I was not in a very good place. My
wife had to drag me off to bed.
I had to let go of this for a while. I didn't get the orders out until Tuesday.
The first shipment arrived today... here's a peek:
Carpet, Door Panels, Seat back panel
The blue square in the center is my reference body color card
Now I'm starting to feel good about having all the major parts I need to get the car roadworthy. I'm eager to get the car back from the paint shop and start putting the car together.
I visited the paint shop today, and had enjoyable conversations with both Body Guy and Paint Guy. Body Guy talked about his health issues, and the difficulty of running an honest business. Paint guy again went over what I want him to do in painting the car.
The car has been at his shop for almost 4 weeks now, and there is no new paint on it yet. I have to admit that I am disappointed that he hasn't made any better progress. I mentioned my goal of taking Dad for a ride in the car while he is still healthy enough to do it. This is something that Paint Guy understands. His Dad is Body Guy, who at 91 years old just had a heart valve replaced. Paint guy has been concerned about his Dad's health for quite a while. After hearing my goal, he volunteered to move the t-bird up his priority list. I think that I will need to visit the paint shop on a weekly basis, and remind him of this.
I'm really trying to honor my new relationships with Paint Guy and Body Guy, while at the same time articulating my own need for progress. I don't want to obsess and become insensitive, but I don't want feel like I'm abandoning this project either. I'm looking for balance. Aren't we all?
Uncle Packard checked with the paint shop yesterday. One of the workers indicated that paint may be finished in two weeks. I don't know if that is accurate, but it got me thinking. The upholstery guy will probably have the seat ready about the same time. I've gathered up most of the other parts necessary to make this car roadworthy... lights, bumpers, electrical items, etc. It is conceivable that I will be able to drive the car on the road, for real, in September.
I have never driven this car on a public road. As a teenager, I pulled the engine before I got my license. My experience actually operating the car has been limited to guiding it (sans engine) while Dad towed it home, and the recent drive down Grandma's driveway. Even though I now know every bolt and screw on the car, I don't know how it handles. I don't know how it sounds, or what the wind feels like doing 30 mph. But I will soon.
I need to understand the significance of driving this car for real, instead of just in my imagination. I want to give weight to that experience. I want to immerse myself in the glory of this redeemed icon from my past. I want to honor God's extravagant grace toward me and my family.
With the car functional, my relationship with it should gradually shift from "working on it" to "using & enjoying it". My attitude toward it will be less about "making it right", and more about where I can take it and how I can share it. Trips in this car will necessarily be one-on-one affairs, and thus opportunities for direct and intimate conversation. My intention is to honor that design, and invite others to experience it with me... one at a time.
The steering wheel is arguably the most intimate interface between car and driver. The seat must comfortably support the driver's weight, but that's about it. The throttle and brake pedals also share the driver's attention, but they go largely unseen. It is the steering wheel with which the driver interacts most deeply. It is visual, it is tactile, and (when using the horn) it is audible.
6 months ago, the steering wheel on the t-bird was a mess. Most people wouldn't want to even touch it.
Uncle Cord offered to fill the cracks for me. After his success restoring the windshield dogleg, I had confidence that he could do it. Within a few weeks, he returned the wheel to me with no cracks and a new coat of primer! Pretty amazing! I sanded it a little, and overcoated it with my favorite black epoxy primer. This stuff is tough and silky smooth!
In this enthusiasm, Uncle Cord was eager for me to choose the color and get the wheel painted. I had to delay this until I finalized the color scheme for the interior. Eventually, I decided to use the original dark green color for the dash, garnish rails, and carpet. It made sense to paint the steering wheel this color, instead of the original turquoise. I got the paint store to color match the original dash in acrylic urethane. This is a base/clear paint, and requires special mixing with hardener and reducer.
I painted two coats of base and sanded them before I realized that the clear needs to go on while the base coat is still a little tacky. Finally, I think I got it right.
The three coats of clear went on one after the other. I got the last coat just a little thick, and got two runs that I will have to sand and polish out.
Here it is on the car. The color matches much better than this photo indicates.
Having this repainted wheel on the car is a surprising encouragement to me. I enjoy the way it feels in my hands, cool and smooth. At 17", the wheel is much larger in diameter than a modern wheel, but the grip is also much thinner. The texture is hard and smooth, where modern wheels are soft leather or foam rubber. The finger ridges on the back, and the ribs along the bottom give it a very different, but satisfying feeling. During my two brief drives around Grandma's driveway, I got a taste of what driving this car was meant to feel like... with that big, hard, narrow rimmed wheel... and I really like it! I'm glad I didn't follow the temptation to trade the wheel out for something more "modern"! The wheel is inviting me to touch it, to grab on and drive the car. This change from its previous state happened with help from Uncle Cord. He is both a craftsman and a cheerleader, and I have needed both.
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I believe there are other people in my life who have the desire, skill and enthusiasm to transform me. To transform me into something that invites a pleasing relationship with my creator. I'm starting to realize that this doesn't happen all at once, nor is it the work of only one person. It requires clarity of intention, and a willingness to take risks. And, occasionally, the need to sand and polish out drips.
My goal is not perfection, as I see it. My goal is simply a pleasurable experience for the driver. I'm hopeful that this is what is happening.
I remember seeing kits to put foglights in the t-bird bumper guards when I was a kid. They looked kind of cool, but rather out of place. Without bullet centers on the bumper guards, it left me feeling that something was missing.
On a lark, I picked up a pair of cheap projector foglights. I noticed that the contour of the lenses roughly matched the contour of the bullets in the middle of the bumper guards. Since I had a spare, trashed set of bullets, I decided to have some fun on Uncle Packard's lathe this week and machine holes in them. Here's how they turned out.
These look much better than the old-style flat foglights, and are still in keeping with the original "jet engine" look of the stock bumper guards. They look like they belong on the car, even though they are a modern technology. A fun, yet tasteful addition! I will take the machined bullet centers down to Chrome Guy to be plated, along with the top to the '57 air cleaner I picked up. If the foglights don't work out, I have another pair of original bullets that have been perfectly chromed.
If all else fails, I can use these ones with holes in them on the back bumper for the exhaust pipes to go through. They came that way from the factory, but the original hole-through bullets for my car were lost years ago.
My current plan is to do without the rear bullets while still routing the exhaust through the bumper guards... with 4" diameter stainless exhaust tips filling the hole! I think it will look cool, but it may look silly. We'll see.
#1 Son edited together a much more satisfying video, consisting of footage from my first drive (last Friday) and shots taken as a passenger on a second ride (last Saturday). The song playing was billboard #1 in June 1955.
Self-motivation is a significant milestone... right up there with the first engine light-off (last December), the body painted (hopefully soon), and the first street drive (hopefully late summer/early fall). Of course, the most significant milestone for me will be taking my Dad for a ride. Even with his failing health, that milestone is looking like a very real possibility.
40 years is indeed a long time to wait. Driving the car, even the short distance around Grandma's old driveway, was something I had longed for and eagerly anticipated, yet it was strangely surreal. I tried to say in the moment, to take it all in, to recognize and celebrate this milestone. But instead I was caught up in the mundane... the rattle of the exhaust, the stumbling of the engine on the hill, the oil pressure and temperature, the stiffness of the steering, the foot pressure needed for the brakes... I found myself thinking "I really need to hook up that power assist unit... "
I didn't fully appreciate the significance of this moment until days later. Maybe I still don't... the full impact is still sinking in. The car is being redeemed before my eyes! This object of both my longing and my shame is becoming something else, something beautiful.
I must confess that a "baby bird" is not a car I would have chosen for myself. I think of myself as more of a sports car or muscle car guy. I've owned a '68 Charger, '72 Mazda R100, '76 280Z, '76 MG Midget, '87 Formula Firebird, and (currently) an '04 GTO. These are all fairly competent, fairly quick, masculine cars. If I were to choose a '50's car, I would prefer a Jaguar or a Corvette. T-birds are pretty and all, but they don't have a reputation for performance. After all, that's what counts, right? If a car reflects something about the owner, wouldn't I want it to reflect performance and masculinity? Maybe that's why Dad was never too enamored with the T-bird, either. He was more of an MG guy.
Yet, this car first came into my life at a critical time. My Mom bought it for me from my Aunt when I was 14. Owning a t-bird, running or not, gave me identity and purpose in high school. It was a desirable car, and by inference that made me desirable. As an insecure teen who's parents and living conditions were so obviously "different", this idea became very compelling to me. Working on and daydreaming about the car was an enjoyable escape from reality, and was eventually joined by loud progressive rock music, marijuana, and pornography in my arsenal of denial. In my senior yearbook, several people wrote encouraging words about the t-bird. One friend even wrote "stop talking about the t-bird, and fix it already!"
Letting go of the car in college, sad as it was, meant letting go of some of my identity, breaking with my past, and making myself into something new. It also represented a surrender to the reality of my limitations. In hindsight, this may have been a good and important thing for me at that point in my life. I was on the threshold of marriage and a Naval career, and I needed humility. While it was painful and seemingly shameful at the time, it was also a relief. I didn't see God's hand in it at the time, but I do now.
My Uncle who bought the car from me was not related to Grandma. He was a WWII and Korean War fighter pilot, and he had wanted a baby bird for a long time. He treasured it, but he didn't have time or resources to do much with it. Thankfully, he kept it covered and dry before he gave it to his son. My cousin kept it garaged, and like every owner before him had great plans for it. I knew they had the car, and I secretly longed to have it back, but I was comfortable with my decision to let it go.
Last April, when my cousin asked me if I wanted the car, I was a little hesitant. I had let go of it, so many years ago, for a good reason. Not all my memories surrounding the car were happy ones. Did I really want to open up those old wounds? Restoring the car would still be a daunting task. Indeed, it has been.
I have been willing to open the wounds, and expose the old resentments. I have forgiven my father for letting me sell the car, and have started to accept him for who he is. Climbing under the car has brought back many adolescent memories, most of which have been rather unpleasant. I remember the loneliness, and the frustration of living in a house full of neglect. I experienced thoughts like "Gee, I remember those bolts on the gas pedal. I put them in just after Grandpa died." I also remember the despair that led me to put a dent in the vibration dampener with an axe (the dent is still there). No, I did not have the temperament nor the patience to be a mechanic, at least not as a teen!
By writing this down I am starting to understand the significance of this restoration journey. The reality that the car now runs is much more than a restoration milestone. It is a redemption milestone. It is a touchstone of God's grace, a corporeal projection of His restoration of my soul. Whatever happens to this car in the future, I can remember how its story has paralleled my life, and the magnificent day when I drove it on Grandma's driveway with my son!
I occasionally think that spending so much effort on this car must surely be vain and selfish. The sermon at church Sunday focused on deconstructing the 23rd Psalm, being lead beside "still water", having my soul restored... in a moment of reflective prayer, I had a vision:
I am driving the t-bird down the coast highway. It is a glorious day and the top is down. I glance over at the passenger seat, and Jesus is sitting there, calmly smiling at me. The sun is shining, and the wind feels marvelous on our faces. Then Jesus tilts his head back and starts to laugh. Not a chuckle, but a full on belly laugh, like someone overcome with joy! Then it strikes me... we are having a great time together. He really wants to be with me, and He really enjoys my company! He really loves me!
While I'm still reeling from the wonderful feeling of having, finally, a running car...
The interior color decision has reared up again!
The car goes back to Paint Guy today. Time to check progress on the seat, which is key to finishing the interior. I talked to Upholstery Guy this morning. I trust him... he does a lot of vintage Porsche interiors,
and they look gorgeous. He does work for some pretty demanding owners.
I'll probably pay more with him than going elsewhere, but the seat is pretty
important to get right.
He told me today that can't use the vinyl seat cover that I got cheap on eBay. At all. It is the wrong size, and the extremely old vinyl won't stretch properly. We talked about adding new leather center inserts, but that won't work, for a number of reasons.
Bad news is that I need to pay for Upholstery Guy to make a custom cover, or buy a whole new one.
Good news is
1) Upholstery Guy can use the eBay seat cover as a pattern,
2) I can choose any color I want... I'm not tied to "stock" seatcovers out of a catalog (which after this experience, I'm not sure I want anyway), and,
3) I might as well go with all-leather, both for comfort and durability. The labor costs more than the materials.
So, I'm back to choosing colors. At this point, I think I'll go with the stock interior colors, but with a '57 seat. Peacock exterior, dark green dash/garnish rails/steering wheel, white door/kick/quarter panels, turquoise seat with white inserts, turquoise lower dash & armrests (also leather), dark green carpet. Here's a kuler panel. Left to right = top to bottom (exterior, dash/garnish, door, armrest/seat, carpet)
This pays homage to the original colors, but doesn't clash with the new peacock exterior... at least to my eyes. I need to make this decision soon, so that Upholstery Guy can finish the seat. It will cost a lot of money, and I want to get it right. No, it's not a huge thing, and it's actually kind of fun... but I still feel the pressure. I have to let go of my anxiousness, my desire for complete control, and just trust and move on.
