Okay, so it appears that I've been dead for the past couple of weeks, but I'm here to dispel those rumors. It's just been insanely busy, but I DO hope to update the blog later tonight. There's a ton to talk about, too, not the least of which is the recent situation in Formula 1 dealing with Felipe Massa's freak accident today and the many rumors that have been surrounding his condition. There will also be updates on the Maxwell and its rear axle, a couple of updates on the old Corvette, and various other things.
I hope all has been well!
25 July, 2009
06 July, 2009
Reliving Route 66
I realize that this post is a bit overdue, but nonetheless, a break in my busyness has allocated some time blogging time. First off, the Goodguys car show. One must realize that this has been our goal for the past few years---getting the car to the show and back---but we've never been able to make it there for one reason or another. This year, though, barring any sudden problems, we were ready.
I got up Friday morning around 5:45 a.m. to make some final detailing touches to the car and to load up our gear (cleaning supplies, a cooler, a chair, our plaque, etc.). Right around 6:30 a.m. my dad started the car's 283 cubic inch V8, I climbed in, and we were off. The sun shone brightly on what would go on to be a perfect day weather-wise, and we progressed smoothly down the old highway---the same path my dad used to take in his first '61 whenever he'd go to the capital city.
It's a unique experience, I must say, driving in the early morning in a car like that. I experienced a little of that feeling when I went on our final Dawn Patrol, but even that did not compare with the trek to Goodguys; the incredible openness of that car, the fog slowly lifting off the rising crops, the cool morning air just beginning to radiate heat from the pavement below. The engine note was smooth and calm whereas the suspension was a bit hard, and before we knew it we'd arrived at the show. Pulling in and parking, we'd at least made it to the grounds. The real test would come when we were going to start the car again following registration.
After getting our number, true to form the car would not start immediately after returning to it. Dad had me remove the air filter (which was hot to the touch) to see if that would make a difference, but whether or not it did was questionable. Nevertheless the car started a couple of tries later, and we were on our way.
Waiting in line, my agitated father could only sit and coast behind an obnoxious Chevelle equipped with giant tires, a nonexistant exhaust, and racing fuel. We were gassed by this classless hot rod for about ten minutes, all the while being unable to hear our own engine---and thus any potential problems that may have arisen from it not starting a few minutes prior. We entered the grounds safely, though, and promptly went the opposite direction of the disfigured Chevelle. A shady spot on a hill was located, and after making sure the car wouldn't roll forward I began my detailing before anyone came over to admire it.
Over the next few hours the weather stayed as near to perfection as it could, and we received many positive comments about our car. Many loved my old transistor radio that I set on the passenger seat, and they also took interest in the plaque I made, giving details about production statistics, accessories, and the #1 song of 1961 (which was "Tossin' and Turnin'" by Bobby Lewis, in case you are wondering).
At one point my father noticed that there were a couple of people walking around the car, looking at it from every direction. They had clipboards and pens, seeming disinterested in the decorations and enthralled by the overall of the car. One finally walked around and took down our car entry number, and it was then that my father and I couldn't believe our ears.
"Yes, I'm voting for this one," the man said to his partner, not even acknowledging our presence a few feet away. With a smile, the people turned and left, and that was that. Upon reflection, though, the more I think about this the more I am blown away. There were over 3,500 cars at the Goodguys show that day, and for any judge to walk up to our car---a car that is not even complete or wholly correct---and vote it for Best of Show, it just boggles my mind! It's an incredible testament to the beauty of that car, but also perhaps fate had a hand in it too. Who knows? Either way we were not in it for any awards. Just think, though, we got one more vote than I ever thought we'd get! I had to pat the car on the quarterpanel for that one; she should be proud.
By the end of the day I had told the story of that car and her curse a few times, and each time I couldn't help but think how much more than a normal car this is. We weren't just the restorers of that Corvette, we are engrained in it. Every member of my immediate family has worked tirelessly over the years to get it done. My mom contacted dealers and parts owners all over the U.S. for years to put this car back together, and she helped in its construction, too. She kept track of money and time tables, as well as many other things of which I'm probably not aware. My dad was the architect of this project, bringing together his lifelong experience with Corvettes and the masterful technical skills his father taught him. Without his knowledge, I wouldn't be where I am today in terms of my knowledge of cars and restoration. He's taught me so much, yet I feel like I know so little of what knowledge he possesses. My parents have worked together on this with me, and so have my friends. I've had friends help me do things like put in the transmission, replace the radiator, clean the car, or even just stand around it and talk. So much of who we are is in that car, and it's a neat feeling.
Once we were finally ready to leave the show, everything was packed up and the engine was started. Thankfully we had just as smooth a ride back as we did that morning, and by the end of the day the car resting peacefully, still in one piece and still operating.
Tomorrow I'll go up to the garage and start her again, checking fluid levels and all other vitals. Nothing should be wrong, but I wouldn't put it past this car, honestly...
Also tomorrow I'll continue working on the hard top window; if I have time this week, ideally I'll progress through all of the grits, and we'll have a completely clear hard top window again. Also I'll see what I can do about our driver's side door (it doesn't shut as easily as it should) and getting the soft top frame ready to have fabric put on it. I still have about a week and a half to get that frame completely ready, but that's assuming that as soon as the fabric gets here, someone will be able to put it on. I'm not so sure that will be the case, so I may have to call a family friend tomorrow and see if he can do it.
Well, this post has definitely gotten long enough, but I wanted to give an update about the weekend and what my plans are this week. With any luck all will go to plan and the car will even be able to make it to a local car show this Wednesday. We'll see about that, though.
I got up Friday morning around 5:45 a.m. to make some final detailing touches to the car and to load up our gear (cleaning supplies, a cooler, a chair, our plaque, etc.). Right around 6:30 a.m. my dad started the car's 283 cubic inch V8, I climbed in, and we were off. The sun shone brightly on what would go on to be a perfect day weather-wise, and we progressed smoothly down the old highway---the same path my dad used to take in his first '61 whenever he'd go to the capital city.
It's a unique experience, I must say, driving in the early morning in a car like that. I experienced a little of that feeling when I went on our final Dawn Patrol, but even that did not compare with the trek to Goodguys; the incredible openness of that car, the fog slowly lifting off the rising crops, the cool morning air just beginning to radiate heat from the pavement below. The engine note was smooth and calm whereas the suspension was a bit hard, and before we knew it we'd arrived at the show. Pulling in and parking, we'd at least made it to the grounds. The real test would come when we were going to start the car again following registration.
After getting our number, true to form the car would not start immediately after returning to it. Dad had me remove the air filter (which was hot to the touch) to see if that would make a difference, but whether or not it did was questionable. Nevertheless the car started a couple of tries later, and we were on our way.
Waiting in line, my agitated father could only sit and coast behind an obnoxious Chevelle equipped with giant tires, a nonexistant exhaust, and racing fuel. We were gassed by this classless hot rod for about ten minutes, all the while being unable to hear our own engine---and thus any potential problems that may have arisen from it not starting a few minutes prior. We entered the grounds safely, though, and promptly went the opposite direction of the disfigured Chevelle. A shady spot on a hill was located, and after making sure the car wouldn't roll forward I began my detailing before anyone came over to admire it.
Over the next few hours the weather stayed as near to perfection as it could, and we received many positive comments about our car. Many loved my old transistor radio that I set on the passenger seat, and they also took interest in the plaque I made, giving details about production statistics, accessories, and the #1 song of 1961 (which was "Tossin' and Turnin'" by Bobby Lewis, in case you are wondering).
At one point my father noticed that there were a couple of people walking around the car, looking at it from every direction. They had clipboards and pens, seeming disinterested in the decorations and enthralled by the overall of the car. One finally walked around and took down our car entry number, and it was then that my father and I couldn't believe our ears.
"Yes, I'm voting for this one," the man said to his partner, not even acknowledging our presence a few feet away. With a smile, the people turned and left, and that was that. Upon reflection, though, the more I think about this the more I am blown away. There were over 3,500 cars at the Goodguys show that day, and for any judge to walk up to our car---a car that is not even complete or wholly correct---and vote it for Best of Show, it just boggles my mind! It's an incredible testament to the beauty of that car, but also perhaps fate had a hand in it too. Who knows? Either way we were not in it for any awards. Just think, though, we got one more vote than I ever thought we'd get! I had to pat the car on the quarterpanel for that one; she should be proud.
By the end of the day I had told the story of that car and her curse a few times, and each time I couldn't help but think how much more than a normal car this is. We weren't just the restorers of that Corvette, we are engrained in it. Every member of my immediate family has worked tirelessly over the years to get it done. My mom contacted dealers and parts owners all over the U.S. for years to put this car back together, and she helped in its construction, too. She kept track of money and time tables, as well as many other things of which I'm probably not aware. My dad was the architect of this project, bringing together his lifelong experience with Corvettes and the masterful technical skills his father taught him. Without his knowledge, I wouldn't be where I am today in terms of my knowledge of cars and restoration. He's taught me so much, yet I feel like I know so little of what knowledge he possesses. My parents have worked together on this with me, and so have my friends. I've had friends help me do things like put in the transmission, replace the radiator, clean the car, or even just stand around it and talk. So much of who we are is in that car, and it's a neat feeling.
Once we were finally ready to leave the show, everything was packed up and the engine was started. Thankfully we had just as smooth a ride back as we did that morning, and by the end of the day the car resting peacefully, still in one piece and still operating.
Tomorrow I'll go up to the garage and start her again, checking fluid levels and all other vitals. Nothing should be wrong, but I wouldn't put it past this car, honestly...
Also tomorrow I'll continue working on the hard top window; if I have time this week, ideally I'll progress through all of the grits, and we'll have a completely clear hard top window again. Also I'll see what I can do about our driver's side door (it doesn't shut as easily as it should) and getting the soft top frame ready to have fabric put on it. I still have about a week and a half to get that frame completely ready, but that's assuming that as soon as the fabric gets here, someone will be able to put it on. I'm not so sure that will be the case, so I may have to call a family friend tomorrow and see if he can do it.
Well, this post has definitely gotten long enough, but I wanted to give an update about the weekend and what my plans are this week. With any luck all will go to plan and the car will even be able to make it to a local car show this Wednesday. We'll see about that, though.
01 July, 2009
Dawn Patrol
I went up to the garage today. Ended up working for quite a few hours, just as I've done for the past few days straight (which is partially why I haven't been on here updating things). The past few days have involved little else aside from going up to the garage and doing random things, but the work is far from over. Let's see, where to begin?
Regarding the Maxwell, the rear leaf springs finally have primer on them, which is a neat feeling seeing something other than rust on that car. It really brings out some of the lines in it that have been lost over time, so I'm excited to get more rust-free and primed. Speaking of exciting, whilst randomly showing my mother some pieces I've found from that car, I happened to be holding an unknown part directly over the place where it is normally affixed (which, in turn, suddenly made a couple of other unknown fixtures on the transmission make sense). It was one of those "...Oh my God!" moments when a century's old fog lifts and suddenly the machine takes one step closer to life. Otherwise, though, there's little to report on the Maxwell.
Another side project to update is the hard top. Now through grits 3,200, 3,600, and 4,000, I am on to the 6,000 grit sandpaper, which has already made a huge difference over the 4,000---and I'm not even remotely done with it! Over the last two grits I have been amazed at how much clearer the plexiglass got after each upgrade. I can't imagine what it will be like when I'm done with the 12,000, but even if I had to stop here the top would be quite usable.
The soft top is also progressing with each day. In the past few I have started taking the old weatherstripping off of the bare frame, spraying the leftover residue with adhesive remover. Once I did that, I also removed all of the chrome parts and any screws and bolts that I do not want painted. From here I will continue sanding and priming, alternating between the two until the frame is pretty smooth and primed. If I can do this in under a fortnight, that leaves some time for us to paint the frame gloss black before the fabric top is affixed (by someone who knows how to do it professionally). It's interesting: While there are always down times in any car restoration, so much of the build being successful lies in timetables and schedules. As much of a hobby as this is, to some degree one must always be aware of the inevitable passing of time. I've spoken of this regarding knowledge of the Maxwell (just yesterday my mom sighed while looking at that car and said "Your grandpa died too early." How true that is, in a number of ways), but it also applies whenever you get into crunch time like we are for the Corvette.
I realize that we won't have a soft top to take with us on Friday, but it is nice knowing that we will soon have a soft top for it. Through my research, I've found that fewer than 35% of all 1961s had both tops; I like that ours is one of them. Perhaps I have gotten the cart ahead of the horse, though.
On Friday, after nearly four years of planning, and after nearly four years of saying "Next year we'll be there," we're taking the '61 up to the Goodguys car show. Over 3,000 cars will be there (mostly customs and hot rods), but our task is merely making it up there and back. The 40-mile drive will be the car's longest in its newest incarnation, and its longest trek since at least the mid seventies. My dad's been taking the car out on what he calls "Dawn Patrol", on which he drives outside of town and back, putting an average of 20-30 miles on the car. These trips normally take place between 6:30 and 7:00 am, and tomorrow morning I'll try to be up to accompany him (since it will be the last patrol before the journey). That jaunt will serve a couple of purposes, though, since today we managed to fit an air filter on the engine. That, let me tell you, was no easy task.
Due to the engine swapping that we've had to do on this car in the past, coupled with two carbs going bad over the years, the standard air filter would not allow the hood to close, so we've been searching for a custom one for a while. Having no luck anywhere in town, though, today my dad sent me to a tractor place to get a filter that was at least the right width. From here we knew we would have to trim some off of it. Little did I know, though, how much of an ordeal that would be.
Some two hours later, after employing the use of a Dremel tool, a grinder, a die, wire cutters, scissors, an Exacto knife, a board, and the biggest rubber mallet I have ever seen, I had been forced to improvise a few times. After making my initial cuts on the filter, I found that the hood still wouldn't fit, so I continued cutting on it (requiring the use of another tool). When that still didn't fit, I was forced to measure sections of the metal plate on which the filter sits, and I ground the bottom lip away. After another no-go, my dad hammered the raised area on the top plate down, I ground some more, and soon we were ready to try again. As my dad was working on the threaded bolt (that goes into the carb on one end and holds a nut on the other), a washer came out of his hand and dropped straight down the small barrel of the carburetor. We proceeded with incredible caution, then, as I bent a wire and tried to extract the washer. One bump of the throttle, which presently rested right below my wrist, and any hope of making the show would have been gone.
I felt like I was in surgery; my hands stayed steady as the dim light shone down into the barrel, and with each bump of the wire, I waited for the disemboweling sight of the barrel opening and the washer plunging into darkness. After about five minutes with my father cursing the car in the background I managed to get the washer out and put the air filter on. Tightening the nut and putting hand cream on the top plate, I closed the hood completely, then raised it back up. I could not find a trace of cream on the underside of the hood, meaning the grinding and trimming had worked! Now the true test will come on Dawn Patrol tomorrow where we'll find out if the new filter is choking the engine at all. If it is then we'll run without a filter to the show and back, but if it isn't, then we're good to go (although heaven forbid we even THINK about opening the hood, according to my father...).
Well, this post is long enough for now. I'll try to stay updated tomorrow as we really hit crunch time for detailing, then come Saturday (probably) you'll find out whether or not we made it to the show and back. Wish us luck, because Lord knows we'll probably need it with this car!
Regarding the Maxwell, the rear leaf springs finally have primer on them, which is a neat feeling seeing something other than rust on that car. It really brings out some of the lines in it that have been lost over time, so I'm excited to get more rust-free and primed. Speaking of exciting, whilst randomly showing my mother some pieces I've found from that car, I happened to be holding an unknown part directly over the place where it is normally affixed (which, in turn, suddenly made a couple of other unknown fixtures on the transmission make sense). It was one of those "...Oh my God!" moments when a century's old fog lifts and suddenly the machine takes one step closer to life. Otherwise, though, there's little to report on the Maxwell.
Another side project to update is the hard top. Now through grits 3,200, 3,600, and 4,000, I am on to the 6,000 grit sandpaper, which has already made a huge difference over the 4,000---and I'm not even remotely done with it! Over the last two grits I have been amazed at how much clearer the plexiglass got after each upgrade. I can't imagine what it will be like when I'm done with the 12,000, but even if I had to stop here the top would be quite usable.
The soft top is also progressing with each day. In the past few I have started taking the old weatherstripping off of the bare frame, spraying the leftover residue with adhesive remover. Once I did that, I also removed all of the chrome parts and any screws and bolts that I do not want painted. From here I will continue sanding and priming, alternating between the two until the frame is pretty smooth and primed. If I can do this in under a fortnight, that leaves some time for us to paint the frame gloss black before the fabric top is affixed (by someone who knows how to do it professionally). It's interesting: While there are always down times in any car restoration, so much of the build being successful lies in timetables and schedules. As much of a hobby as this is, to some degree one must always be aware of the inevitable passing of time. I've spoken of this regarding knowledge of the Maxwell (just yesterday my mom sighed while looking at that car and said "Your grandpa died too early." How true that is, in a number of ways), but it also applies whenever you get into crunch time like we are for the Corvette.
I realize that we won't have a soft top to take with us on Friday, but it is nice knowing that we will soon have a soft top for it. Through my research, I've found that fewer than 35% of all 1961s had both tops; I like that ours is one of them. Perhaps I have gotten the cart ahead of the horse, though.
On Friday, after nearly four years of planning, and after nearly four years of saying "Next year we'll be there," we're taking the '61 up to the Goodguys car show. Over 3,000 cars will be there (mostly customs and hot rods), but our task is merely making it up there and back. The 40-mile drive will be the car's longest in its newest incarnation, and its longest trek since at least the mid seventies. My dad's been taking the car out on what he calls "Dawn Patrol", on which he drives outside of town and back, putting an average of 20-30 miles on the car. These trips normally take place between 6:30 and 7:00 am, and tomorrow morning I'll try to be up to accompany him (since it will be the last patrol before the journey). That jaunt will serve a couple of purposes, though, since today we managed to fit an air filter on the engine. That, let me tell you, was no easy task.
Due to the engine swapping that we've had to do on this car in the past, coupled with two carbs going bad over the years, the standard air filter would not allow the hood to close, so we've been searching for a custom one for a while. Having no luck anywhere in town, though, today my dad sent me to a tractor place to get a filter that was at least the right width. From here we knew we would have to trim some off of it. Little did I know, though, how much of an ordeal that would be.
Some two hours later, after employing the use of a Dremel tool, a grinder, a die, wire cutters, scissors, an Exacto knife, a board, and the biggest rubber mallet I have ever seen, I had been forced to improvise a few times. After making my initial cuts on the filter, I found that the hood still wouldn't fit, so I continued cutting on it (requiring the use of another tool). When that still didn't fit, I was forced to measure sections of the metal plate on which the filter sits, and I ground the bottom lip away. After another no-go, my dad hammered the raised area on the top plate down, I ground some more, and soon we were ready to try again. As my dad was working on the threaded bolt (that goes into the carb on one end and holds a nut on the other), a washer came out of his hand and dropped straight down the small barrel of the carburetor. We proceeded with incredible caution, then, as I bent a wire and tried to extract the washer. One bump of the throttle, which presently rested right below my wrist, and any hope of making the show would have been gone.
I felt like I was in surgery; my hands stayed steady as the dim light shone down into the barrel, and with each bump of the wire, I waited for the disemboweling sight of the barrel opening and the washer plunging into darkness. After about five minutes with my father cursing the car in the background I managed to get the washer out and put the air filter on. Tightening the nut and putting hand cream on the top plate, I closed the hood completely, then raised it back up. I could not find a trace of cream on the underside of the hood, meaning the grinding and trimming had worked! Now the true test will come on Dawn Patrol tomorrow where we'll find out if the new filter is choking the engine at all. If it is then we'll run without a filter to the show and back, but if it isn't, then we're good to go (although heaven forbid we even THINK about opening the hood, according to my father...).
Well, this post is long enough for now. I'll try to stay updated tomorrow as we really hit crunch time for detailing, then come Saturday (probably) you'll find out whether or not we made it to the show and back. Wish us luck, because Lord knows we'll probably need it with this car!
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