I went up to the garage today. I must say, I do not know how hot blue blazes are, but our garage was definitely hotter than them this afternoon. The warm air outside was riding the front edge of a cold front that hadn't made it to my town yet, so in the midst of 112 degree heat indexes I decided to take a small ceramic heater and a cold Pepsi with me to the garage to see what I could do. The heater, by the way, has a cool setting on it, so it wasn't just for heat. Anyway, unlocking and walking into the garage, I was hit with a dense mass of stagnant, humid, hot air. By the time I had walked around the cars and reached the spot where the hard top was perched over a stool and a platform of bricks and wood I was already glistening with sweat.
Our neighbor's niece was out washing her car in the driveway opposite of me, but with a looming storm on the horizon, I wasn't so sure of her timing. Safe and dry inside my humble mechanical abode, I settled down to do some sanding on the plexiglass hard top. Practically done with the 3200 grit, I can now move up to the 4000-some grit tomorrow and hopefully onto the 8000-some grit shortly thereafter. I wasn't thinking about that yet, though. The heat was overbearing even with the little ceramic trying to blow out some cold air. I never did open my Pepsi, either. Nevertheless, in a matter of seconds the cold front blasted through the area. Temperatures dropped by nearly 20 degrees as leaves and branches were being blown off of the trees around our yards. I propped open the side door to the garage (lest it blew itself off its hinges) and then opened a couple of the old windows.
As a little aside here, up until a couple of years ago, those windows hadn't been opened for a couple of decades. I knew they could probably open, but I never tried it. Finally one day I gently pushed, progressively pressing harder and harder until the windows opened. In a probably lame way I felt as though I was giving the garage some of its functionality back, and that made me mildly happy. It felt more like a garage, I thought. My next step (someday) will be to clean all of the windows, grease all of the hinges, and repaint the window frames their original color, just to make the garage look better. That will come right before I start trying to shore up the large wooden door---the heavy one that has been on the front of the garage since it was built by my grandfather, his brother, and my father back when my father was young. That's for another day, though, when a few of these other projects have been finished.
Anywho, rain started to pour down from the sky in sheets, so I figured that before I got blown away I would run back home and dry off. That meant nothing was done on the Maxwell, and relatively little was done to the hard top, but that's okay. If need be, the hard top can be affixed to the Vette, and you can see through it well enough. I'll try to tackle some more of both cars tomorrow---depending on the heat---before the car show in the evening, to which we may take the old Corvette. We'll just have to see. She won't move unless I get that gear out of the transmission that I spoke of in the last post---it wouldn't exactly make people "ooh" and "ahh" at a car grinding and groaning its way into the parking lot...
Later on I headed over to a friend's house to watch last weekend's Formula 1 race. It was the British Grand Prix from the legendary Silverstone racetrack, and I must say that it will be quite sad to see the old circuit leave the calendar next year. That's a whole other post, though, if I want to ramble on about the mistakes the FIA, FOTA, and Formula 1 in general have been making lately. Watching the race, though, the night wasn't about greiving for the RAF airfield or about the potential death of F1 as we know it. Instead it was about leaving all of those things in the dust and doing what those drivers are passionate about doing. It was not about the politics, both empty and loaded threats, or punditry. Instead it was about the spectacle---untarnished, harkening back to its roots, and incredibly adored. Even the BBC couldn't resist throwing in a sad piece at the end about the history F1 is losing by leaving the track, but in all it was a good, fun night.
As I was going to leave, my friend and I started talking about our summers and all that this town means to us. What started as a casual parting conversation turned into an hour and a half discussion about many aspects of our lives, and it made me realize a few things about myself, too. At one point he asked me something like "Do you feel like this town is where you're meant to be?" That's a tough question that I really can't explain. Yes, I feel like this town is where my life is and will be for quite some time, but I don't feel that it's the town itself that makes it this way. While away at college I never felt like I had moved away to go to study. I felt instead like I was away for a few months, getting to go home a few times in the process. For me, what this town means to me is that it's where my family resides. It's where I have great memories and good friends. It's where I can come home, golf at a golf course where people know my name, or go up and work in the garage. It's a place where I can be me, and people will actually know me and like me for it (unlike at college, where I can be me, but none of that other stuff really happens). The town itself, though, is not why I feel like I'm meant to be here, nor do I even see myself being here for the future. I know that it will always be my home, but unfortunately we must face the fact that my town is struggling economically, we aren't alluring to new businesses, there aren't opportunities for our youth to have a solid future here, and our city government has not done an ideal job of getting us out of any of these situations.
Despite all of this, though, when I think of where my soul can be true, it's here. I don't feel like my life is in our state capital even if that's where I go to school. Even though I have a small number of friends at school, I don't feel like that's where my friends truly are located. That last statement has had to be rethought, though, for the first time this summer.
I had known that such a scenario would be a possibility, but I just wasn't ready for the fact that this summer so few friends of mine would be returning to my home town. What's more is that the ones who have rarely ever get in contact with me anymore, which is basically like having them gone anyway. Leaning against our cars this evening, talking to my friend really made me realize how much I miss having my old friends, and having them in the way that they were. I suppose this happens to everyone at one time or another, but it has hurt undescribably much when so many people I have been close to have gone away to university only to change so much that they lose touch or choose not to regain contact with me. And unfortunately that's happened with far too many of my old friends. Phone numbers are practically useless with some anymore because they rarely ever respond to texts or calls. Once usual members of gatherings at my house and at others' houses are conspicuously absent anymore for some unknown reason. Valuable friends who I have never stopped liking rarely ever call to say hello or to make dinner plans.
I should say, though, that not everyone has been like this. For those who are close to me, they know that they are some of the few who actually followed my wish never to lose touch. They still know me for who I am, and they still carry with them the memories that forged our friendship over the years. Pulling things full circle, perhaps they are the sport itself---strong, cohesive and healthy---whereas my old friends are like Silverstone was for us this evening: If it weren't for that track, the sport would not have gotten its start, and it definitely would not have been the same if it did. The track's loss is something that should rightfully be mourned due to its history and influence, but the sport will still live on. A lost piece of history will not throw the future into disrepute, but just as with Silverstone, one should not be so sure that the old circuit will never return to the sport. And I truly do await the day when all of my old friends and I can get together again and have things be as they were. Even if this day never comes, I smile imagining what it will be like with old jokes abounding and familiar laughs spawning a gallery of others. It would be worth it even if, for only one moment, all of the past falling outs and changes in lifestyles slipped out of our memories and settled into an empty abyss. For that one moment we could revel in the spectacle of friendship---untarnished once again, harkening back to its roots, and incredibly adored by all who have returned.
Perhaps that day will come, but even if it does not I know that those friendships---some of whom have all but disappeared, some of whom have relocated for the summer in order to do something they love or are passionate to do---have been invaluable in my life, and I couldn't imagine what I would be without them.
23 June, 2009
20 June, 2009
The Curse returns...
Went up to the garage this morning. Dad and I had originally planned on taking the old Corvette out for a drive, hoping that our random workings on the speedometer cable would get the gauge working again. We weren't even out of the driveway, though, before we knew that whatever had been done wasn't enough. The gauge sat still, and never did move for the entire trip.
This wasn't really so bad, though, as we really weren't any worse off than we had been. True, I was disappointed that climbing on my head a few times both under the car and under its dash had yielded nothing, but that's okay. It wasn't until we started going up the highway, though, that something went wrong.
More noise had been coming from the transmission since we didn't have the shifter boot on, so it was different hearing all the road noise that you wouldn't normally encounter. After a while, though, I realized that something was amiss. A conspicuous grinding noise could be heard, and this got much louder when we shifted into third gear from first. By the time we had gone another mile and a half, the grinding had gotten quite troubling, so we turned around and headed home. The car seemed to shift fine throughout, and the only thing that we have really changed is taking the speedo gear out of the side of the transmission. This leads me to believe that either the little plastic gear (which isn't designed well in the first place) is out of place by a tooth or two, or its not spinning the wire inside of the speedo cable (the one that leads to the gauge under the dash). I don't know why it would be the latter, but if it were the former I can only hope that I can easily take that gear out, and that it is not completely worn down.
My father is still convinced that we're dumping too much money into a "worthless" thing like a speedometer, and for some reason that I cannot fathom, he is convinced that we'll never need a working speedometer. Ever. Period.
...
Well, even if this is true, I don't think working on that is such a terrible thing. I'm willing to keep contorting myself to fit under the big steering wheel and crawling under the car to get it to work. Then in the meantime I'll keep sanding on that hard top since at this point if we're going to make Goodguys, we won't be able to have a working soft top by then. Hmm...at this pint, though, I'm more inclined to say that the creeping feeling that the car won't make it to Des Moines and back has returned along with---potentially---the curse.
This wasn't really so bad, though, as we really weren't any worse off than we had been. True, I was disappointed that climbing on my head a few times both under the car and under its dash had yielded nothing, but that's okay. It wasn't until we started going up the highway, though, that something went wrong.
More noise had been coming from the transmission since we didn't have the shifter boot on, so it was different hearing all the road noise that you wouldn't normally encounter. After a while, though, I realized that something was amiss. A conspicuous grinding noise could be heard, and this got much louder when we shifted into third gear from first. By the time we had gone another mile and a half, the grinding had gotten quite troubling, so we turned around and headed home. The car seemed to shift fine throughout, and the only thing that we have really changed is taking the speedo gear out of the side of the transmission. This leads me to believe that either the little plastic gear (which isn't designed well in the first place) is out of place by a tooth or two, or its not spinning the wire inside of the speedo cable (the one that leads to the gauge under the dash). I don't know why it would be the latter, but if it were the former I can only hope that I can easily take that gear out, and that it is not completely worn down.
My father is still convinced that we're dumping too much money into a "worthless" thing like a speedometer, and for some reason that I cannot fathom, he is convinced that we'll never need a working speedometer. Ever. Period.
...
Well, even if this is true, I don't think working on that is such a terrible thing. I'm willing to keep contorting myself to fit under the big steering wheel and crawling under the car to get it to work. Then in the meantime I'll keep sanding on that hard top since at this point if we're going to make Goodguys, we won't be able to have a working soft top by then. Hmm...at this pint, though, I'm more inclined to say that the creeping feeling that the car won't make it to Des Moines and back has returned along with---potentially---the curse.
18 June, 2009
Where was Lou Christie?
One of the most fantastic lightning storms I've seen in a long time prevented me from getting on last night to give the updates that I had talked about. Avoiding idleness, I decided to get the Rebel out and take some pictures of the lightning---I'll try to have those posted today. A couple of close strikes as I drove down the interstate last night proved how very active that storm was, and there are a few videos on Facebook of the lightning as well. Pretty cool stuff.
I plan on going to the garage today and seeing what I can get done. I'll try to sand a little on the Corvette's hard top, then see if I can do anymore on the axle bolts on the Maxwell. Regarding the Vette, the hard top is the one from my father's first '61 that he owned when he was young. Over time the plexiglass in the back has become quite opaque and stained from various chemicals and paints. My dad then discovered a system of sanding (called Micro Mesh) with increasing grit until a paste is applied to the glass that makes it clear again. Currently I've progressed through five or six grits and am up to 3200, but I have quite a ways to go before I get to the final 16,000. It is a great deal of work, but for some elbow grease and $25, it's quite preferable to spending $300 for a new rear window and $75 for each of the small side windows.
Regarding the Maxwell, I said two days ago that I would give an update regarding what all I've done to the car, so I figure now is as good a time as any.
After my friend and I positioned it at the front of the garage a few years ago, my dad and I pulled the car to the back where it's been every since. In that time our first task was to take the fenders off. Through a contact I made back when I was in high school, we sent the front fenders from our car and identical rear fenders from another (less rusty) car to a man who runs an antique machine shop in Indiana. Using machines that are over 100 years old, the gentleman has done a fantastic job of crafting these unusually difficult fenders (which are almost done). Ideally they'll be back to us in a couple of months, in which case we'll try to fit them to the car (just to make sure they're correct), then I'll prime them and store them away. That way they'll be clean and fresh for when we are quite a ways down the road (no pun intended).
Aside from scrubbing rust off of the frame and body panels, I've also polished the brass pieces (and there are quite a few) and placed them in storage out of the elements. After countless hours of research and contacting as many people as I can, I've gotten a much better idea about what kind of car this is, too, and I must say that I don't think there's a classier brass era car like this one anywhere. This car will be gorgeous, and I can't wait to make some headway and see that beauty emerge.
Before the beauty can come, though, there are much more important things on which to focus than cosmetics. My plan is to start at the back of the car and work my way forward, focusing mainly on mechanical aspects of the machine. After all, what good is a beautiful car if it doesn't work? So to start, I've begun removing the rust-covered bolts that hold the rear axle to the frame. This hasn't been easy, as I've already broken one bolt, but I have five of the remaining seven loosened. Even that task is kind of interesting since I doubt these crucial bolts have ever been removed in the car's 99 years of existance. Once I get them out, though, I'll take the axle out from under the car and open it up to make sure that there are no metal shavings or locked pieces inside. Hopefully this outcome will be favorable, as turning the propshaft makes the right rear tire turn quite freely (and vice versa). Still, it's better to be safe than sorry, so I'll proceed with the opening.
Another thing I did a couple of days ago was take off the top plate of the transmission (seen in the picture at left. It's the plate that has the circular plate attached to it). It's something that I've never done before, so I had no idea what the inside would look like. Thankfully, though, the cover came off without a hitch and the gears inside look to be in good shape. It looked like one of the dogs (or perhaps the only dog) is frozen in place, but then again I don't think all the linkages are hooked up outside the car, so it's tough to tell. Turning the transmission end of the driveshaft, though, encouraged two of the gears to move as freely as can be, so that's a very good sign (I hope). I'll pour some oil over the gears to make sure they're semi-protected from rust and that they'll stay free, then I'll have to scrub them to take the rust that's on them off. Replacing the plate, I made sure all bolt holes were either occupied or covered.
From there, I took a small viewing plate off of the back of the engine/transmission (seen to the front of the car from the circular viewing port) so that I could see what I think is the crankshaft. It looked quite shiny and completely rust free, and what's more is that there are a few inches of oil sitting at the bottom of the crank case---the same oil that my late grandfather put in the engine with valuable foresight back in the 1960s. It may not sound like that big a deal, but seeing that made me smile.
I've made this post long enough for now, I'd say, so I'll continue with the efforts that have been done so far in another post. As for tonight, I'll head to the parade and see a couple of friends of mine about trying out a dirt kart (something I've never done before---normally I've only raced asphalt). That should be fun, and this afternoon I'll probably try to golf before it gets very warm. I would have gone this morning, but looming storms made me think otherwise.
Anywho, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more in the future!
I plan on going to the garage today and seeing what I can get done. I'll try to sand a little on the Corvette's hard top, then see if I can do anymore on the axle bolts on the Maxwell. Regarding the Vette, the hard top is the one from my father's first '61 that he owned when he was young. Over time the plexiglass in the back has become quite opaque and stained from various chemicals and paints. My dad then discovered a system of sanding (called Micro Mesh) with increasing grit until a paste is applied to the glass that makes it clear again. Currently I've progressed through five or six grits and am up to 3200, but I have quite a ways to go before I get to the final 16,000. It is a great deal of work, but for some elbow grease and $25, it's quite preferable to spending $300 for a new rear window and $75 for each of the small side windows.
Regarding the Maxwell, I said two days ago that I would give an update regarding what all I've done to the car, so I figure now is as good a time as any.
After my friend and I positioned it at the front of the garage a few years ago, my dad and I pulled the car to the back where it's been every since. In that time our first task was to take the fenders off. Through a contact I made back when I was in high school, we sent the front fenders from our car and identical rear fenders from another (less rusty) car to a man who runs an antique machine shop in Indiana. Using machines that are over 100 years old, the gentleman has done a fantastic job of crafting these unusually difficult fenders (which are almost done). Ideally they'll be back to us in a couple of months, in which case we'll try to fit them to the car (just to make sure they're correct), then I'll prime them and store them away. That way they'll be clean and fresh for when we are quite a ways down the road (no pun intended).
Aside from scrubbing rust off of the frame and body panels, I've also polished the brass pieces (and there are quite a few) and placed them in storage out of the elements. After countless hours of research and contacting as many people as I can, I've gotten a much better idea about what kind of car this is, too, and I must say that I don't think there's a classier brass era car like this one anywhere. This car will be gorgeous, and I can't wait to make some headway and see that beauty emerge.
Before the beauty can come, though, there are much more important things on which to focus than cosmetics. My plan is to start at the back of the car and work my way forward, focusing mainly on mechanical aspects of the machine. After all, what good is a beautiful car if it doesn't work? So to start, I've begun removing the rust-covered bolts that hold the rear axle to the frame. This hasn't been easy, as I've already broken one bolt, but I have five of the remaining seven loosened. Even that task is kind of interesting since I doubt these crucial bolts have ever been removed in the car's 99 years of existance. Once I get them out, though, I'll take the axle out from under the car and open it up to make sure that there are no metal shavings or locked pieces inside. Hopefully this outcome will be favorable, as turning the propshaft makes the right rear tire turn quite freely (and vice versa). Still, it's better to be safe than sorry, so I'll proceed with the opening.
Another thing I did a couple of days ago was take off the top plate of the transmission (seen in the picture at left. It's the plate that has the circular plate attached to it). It's something that I've never done before, so I had no idea what the inside would look like. Thankfully, though, the cover came off without a hitch and the gears inside look to be in good shape. It looked like one of the dogs (or perhaps the only dog) is frozen in place, but then again I don't think all the linkages are hooked up outside the car, so it's tough to tell. Turning the transmission end of the driveshaft, though, encouraged two of the gears to move as freely as can be, so that's a very good sign (I hope). I'll pour some oil over the gears to make sure they're semi-protected from rust and that they'll stay free, then I'll have to scrub them to take the rust that's on them off. Replacing the plate, I made sure all bolt holes were either occupied or covered.From there, I took a small viewing plate off of the back of the engine/transmission (seen to the front of the car from the circular viewing port) so that I could see what I think is the crankshaft. It looked quite shiny and completely rust free, and what's more is that there are a few inches of oil sitting at the bottom of the crank case---the same oil that my late grandfather put in the engine with valuable foresight back in the 1960s. It may not sound like that big a deal, but seeing that made me smile.
I've made this post long enough for now, I'd say, so I'll continue with the efforts that have been done so far in another post. As for tonight, I'll head to the parade and see a couple of friends of mine about trying out a dirt kart (something I've never done before---normally I've only raced asphalt). That should be fun, and this afternoon I'll probably try to golf before it gets very warm. I would have gone this morning, but looming storms made me think otherwise.
Anywho, thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more in the future!
16 June, 2009
Nearly a Centenarian
No, I do not speak for myself in this title, but instead I'm speaking of the aforementioned Maxwell. Seeing as how I'd like to have part of this blog dedicated to work on the old girl, I thought I'd begin by telling her story.
The Maxwell brand, first off, was only around for a couple of decades in the early 1900s. Making cars out of Tarrytown, Maxwells soon became the epitome of reliability and durability. Alice Ramsay is a name you may want to Google someday, as her story is definitely noteworthy, dealing with a cross-country trip in a Maxwell not too dissimilar from ours. Anywho, in 1910 the classy brass-clad cars were offered in a few body styles. Ours, however, is a Q3. The Q3 was blessed with a beefy (for the time) 22 horsepower engine. It was a righthand drive car with two front seats and a backseat wide enough to fit three adults comfortably. Remember, though, adults in 1910 were, on average, smaller than today's adults. I suppose if the name were allowed to evolve, our Maxwell may be considered a Q2 or Q1 by today's standards...but I digress.
Pictures of Maxwell Q3s are quite scarce, as is information about how to restore them. I intend to change that with this blog, but only time will tell how quickly that can be accomplised. Nevertheless, the story of my Q3 is quite unique. When my father was young back in the late fifties, his father and uncle---both of whom were quite mechanically inclined---had been in talks with a man a couple of hours away who lived on a remote farm. Negotiations had been successful, so the two brothers loaded my father into their car and drove to this man's farm. Here their task was to remove a battered car from underneath a collapsed barn after a storm had swept through the area earlier that year. My father doesn't remember much about the farmer or the car he was unearthing. All he remembers was "getting to crawl around through an old barn that had collapsed, which was a pretty big thing for a kid," as he said.
It took some working over the period of a few days, but my father still remembers finally getting this damaged car---something his father called a Maxwell---totally free from the barn and loaded onto a trailer to take back home. He doesn't remember how much my grandfather paid for the car, but it wasn't a large amount. Either way, the three men returned to the stone garage out of which my grandfather restored cars and placed the injured Maxwell inside. My grandfather then began the arduous task of removing the engine and completely rebuilding it. This was done in the clean atmosphere of his basement, and when he finished he loaded most of the engine with oil to prevent rust, and he put it back in the car. Furthermore, anticipating a lull in work being done on it, he spray painted parts of the frame and engine to stop them from rusting, and kept all of the brass parts in a box inside his house, thus warding off corrosion.
In retrospect, the anticipated lull came, indeed. It came sometime in the late sixties or early seventies and lasted some 30+ years while the Maxwell sat in the remote corner of our garage covered in dust and random car parts. A few years ago, though, I took great interest in the car and persuaded my father to let my friend and I pull it to the front of the garage where we could start to work on it. Eventually he conceded and we cleaned off the car and moved it to where it was accessible. And so began the gargantuan effort that it will take to restore this car. This task alone cannot be left to a single blog post, so I'll only say that this project has been and will be more complex than anything I've ever worked on, which is perhaps ironic whilst dealing with such a simple machine, if you really think about it.
Nevertheless, the car has already come a long way since that day all those years ago. A great deal of research has been done, but there is still so much more to do. In order to continue, though, I've had to immerse myself in a whole other world of antique, brass era automobiles. In doing so I've begun to see the charms of these machines, but I've also seen the rate at which knowledge is disappearing. I tried calling the owners of every other 1910 Maxwell Q3 on Vern's registry yesterday, and out of the six known owners on the list (myself included), four of the six numbers have been disconnected. That is quite worrisome, especially considering most of the current Maxwell owners I do know are not near the same age as I. Some aspects of working on this car need to be done as soon as I possibly can, but with every day that passes some element of time runs out, so I cannot afford to stall. This immeasurable wealth of information needs to be collected now before it is lost forever not just for the history of automobiles worldwide, but for the countless number of people in the future who may wish to do what I'm trying to do right now. Without the very limited resources I have right now, it would seem impossible to restore a Maxwell found in a barn in the future, and that's actually a very sad prospect.
The car turns 100 next year, and I'd like to make some great headway before then, but at this point I'm still unsure how to do that. Tomorrow I'll give an update about what all I've done to the car since pulling it out of the corner, and I'll also try to outline where I'm going from here. Stick around, friends, this will be a challenge.
The Maxwell brand, first off, was only around for a couple of decades in the early 1900s. Making cars out of Tarrytown, Maxwells soon became the epitome of reliability and durability. Alice Ramsay is a name you may want to Google someday, as her story is definitely noteworthy, dealing with a cross-country trip in a Maxwell not too dissimilar from ours. Anywho, in 1910 the classy brass-clad cars were offered in a few body styles. Ours, however, is a Q3. The Q3 was blessed with a beefy (for the time) 22 horsepower engine. It was a righthand drive car with two front seats and a backseat wide enough to fit three adults comfortably. Remember, though, adults in 1910 were, on average, smaller than today's adults. I suppose if the name were allowed to evolve, our Maxwell may be considered a Q2 or Q1 by today's standards...but I digress.Pictures of Maxwell Q3s are quite scarce, as is information about how to restore them. I intend to change that with this blog, but only time will tell how quickly that can be accomplised. Nevertheless, the story of my Q3 is quite unique. When my father was young back in the late fifties, his father and uncle---both of whom were quite mechanically inclined---had been in talks with a man a couple of hours away who lived on a remote farm. Negotiations had been successful, so the two brothers loaded my father into their car and drove to this man's farm. Here their task was to remove a battered car from underneath a collapsed barn after a storm had swept through the area earlier that year. My father doesn't remember much about the farmer or the car he was unearthing. All he remembers was "getting to crawl around through an old barn that had collapsed, which was a pretty big thing for a kid," as he said.
It took some working over the period of a few days, but my father still remembers finally getting this damaged car---something his father called a Maxwell---totally free from the barn and loaded onto a trailer to take back home. He doesn't remember how much my grandfather paid for the car, but it wasn't a large amount. Either way, the three men returned to the stone garage out of which my grandfather restored cars and placed the injured Maxwell inside. My grandfather then began the arduous task of removing the engine and completely rebuilding it. This was done in the clean atmosphere of his basement, and when he finished he loaded most of the engine with oil to prevent rust, and he put it back in the car. Furthermore, anticipating a lull in work being done on it, he spray painted parts of the frame and engine to stop them from rusting, and kept all of the brass parts in a box inside his house, thus warding off corrosion.
In retrospect, the anticipated lull came, indeed. It came sometime in the late sixties or early seventies and lasted some 30+ years while the Maxwell sat in the remote corner of our garage covered in dust and random car parts. A few years ago, though, I took great interest in the car and persuaded my father to let my friend and I pull it to the front of the garage where we could start to work on it. Eventually he conceded and we cleaned off the car and moved it to where it was accessible. And so began the gargantuan effort that it will take to restore this car. This task alone cannot be left to a single blog post, so I'll only say that this project has been and will be more complex than anything I've ever worked on, which is perhaps ironic whilst dealing with such a simple machine, if you really think about it.
Nevertheless, the car has already come a long way since that day all those years ago. A great deal of research has been done, but there is still so much more to do. In order to continue, though, I've had to immerse myself in a whole other world of antique, brass era automobiles. In doing so I've begun to see the charms of these machines, but I've also seen the rate at which knowledge is disappearing. I tried calling the owners of every other 1910 Maxwell Q3 on Vern's registry yesterday, and out of the six known owners on the list (myself included), four of the six numbers have been disconnected. That is quite worrisome, especially considering most of the current Maxwell owners I do know are not near the same age as I. Some aspects of working on this car need to be done as soon as I possibly can, but with every day that passes some element of time runs out, so I cannot afford to stall. This immeasurable wealth of information needs to be collected now before it is lost forever not just for the history of automobiles worldwide, but for the countless number of people in the future who may wish to do what I'm trying to do right now. Without the very limited resources I have right now, it would seem impossible to restore a Maxwell found in a barn in the future, and that's actually a very sad prospect.
The car turns 100 next year, and I'd like to make some great headway before then, but at this point I'm still unsure how to do that. Tomorrow I'll give an update about what all I've done to the car since pulling it out of the corner, and I'll also try to outline where I'm going from here. Stick around, friends, this will be a challenge.
What Hath God Wrought?
What an interesting prospect a blog is. It allows not only communication in a written sense of ideas and notions across the world, but it allows the writer to divulge otherwise private ruminations about a variety of topics. Granted, my life does not always allow me to have the time to update things like blogs and Facebook and such very often, but it is my intent to do just that here. You see, my last attempt at a blog was only half-hearted, and it did not have the direction that this blog will. It was first to satisfy the desires of an old friend who had recently acquired a similar blog some time before. After that friend moved on and was no longer an acquiantance, I was left with the shell of a site that really had no purpose. Hence, I have come to this.
Woodsie's Garage is not just about cars, you see. Instead, it's about a variety of things involving all things that are complex and can bring frustration and happiness. My passions, as you will all find out, involve many motorized things such as Formula 1---I plan on having a few rants about that incredible spectacle on here from time to time, especially in such turbulent waters that wet the sport these days. I also enjoy car restoration. My endeavors have included such classics as a 1961 Chevrolet Corvette, various small motors, an old tractor, an antique motorcycle, and now the biggest challenge of them all: a 1910 Maxwell motorcar. I intend on having a special section for the Maxwell, as I'd like to keep a running blog on my progress. Just as there aren't many Maxwells on the road anymore, there are even fewer blogs detailing how to go about restoring one. My situation is rather unique in that I've never even seen a completed Maxwell in real life (only in pictures) yet I am trying to rebuild one nonetheless. If nothing else, my trials and tribulations on that old Q3 should be quite a read, as I'm unaware of anyone my age ever having embarked on such a testing endeavor.
But lest I ramble for too long, I'll finish getting this site set up in the meantime. Thanks, everyone, and I look forward to your comments and to entertaining you.
Cheers!
Woodsie's Garage is not just about cars, you see. Instead, it's about a variety of things involving all things that are complex and can bring frustration and happiness. My passions, as you will all find out, involve many motorized things such as Formula 1---I plan on having a few rants about that incredible spectacle on here from time to time, especially in such turbulent waters that wet the sport these days. I also enjoy car restoration. My endeavors have included such classics as a 1961 Chevrolet Corvette, various small motors, an old tractor, an antique motorcycle, and now the biggest challenge of them all: a 1910 Maxwell motorcar. I intend on having a special section for the Maxwell, as I'd like to keep a running blog on my progress. Just as there aren't many Maxwells on the road anymore, there are even fewer blogs detailing how to go about restoring one. My situation is rather unique in that I've never even seen a completed Maxwell in real life (only in pictures) yet I am trying to rebuild one nonetheless. If nothing else, my trials and tribulations on that old Q3 should be quite a read, as I'm unaware of anyone my age ever having embarked on such a testing endeavor.
But lest I ramble for too long, I'll finish getting this site set up in the meantime. Thanks, everyone, and I look forward to your comments and to entertaining you.
Cheers!
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