Last week a family friend of mine passed away from complications of cancer. His name was Larry Lamb, and with his passing his family didn't just lose a fantastically loved husband, father and grandfather, but the world lost a true car guy. He was of a thinning herd of the original hot rodders who chopped top, low slung machines prowled the streets during warm summer nights. And with Larry's passing, I think a little of everyone who has ever appreciated a hand crafted automobile dies a little. Believe me when I say, too, that this isn't just about losing a man who liked cars. I've known him for years, and my parents knew him longer. He was a hard worker and a great father. His love of his family was exemplified just a fortnight before he passed away when his family and he took a series of stirring professional portraits. Still afflicted by his cancer, Larry's face was truly free of pain or exhaustion as he posed with his wife, children and grandchildren. At the visitation his wife told us that having those pictures taken was one of the best decisions of their lives.
As I knew him, Larry lived in a very small town a few miles from mine. Ever a tinkerer, he had been working on cars since he was young. He'd done everything from classic Bel Airs to station wagons. A man of my own heart, he had a few cars stored in his small garage/barn that were always next on his list of projects. In his main shop, though, were his favorite cars. One was a 1959 Mercury and the other was an early '40s Ford. The Mercury had been gorgeously customized, not so much that you lose the essence of the car, but just enough to elicit pure American Graffiti. Intricately tuned, a Mercury Rocket engine sat beneath the meticulously polished flowing hood.
The Ford looked like a cross between a classic '60s hot rod and a purpose-built speedster. Larry had found it rotting away in a farm field before hoisting it onto a flatbed, bringing to that shop, straightening everything out on it and making it come alive again. It was in this car that he made treks to the Bonneville Salt Flats---some of the better moments of his and his wife's time together. During one moment of conversation between my father, him and me, he had his Ford up on the hydraulic lift and was pulling pieces of salt from underneath the running boards, handing it to me as if it were a trophy he'd won.
Every time we would go talk to him out in his shop, Oldies would be playing softly on the radio, the tunes that so regularly echo in our Garage wafting around the black and white pictures that adorned his walls of people, places and cars he's encountered. Tin signs commemorate his road trips with friends and clubs across the United States, and his pegboards and tools cover most of another wall. His shop was definitely a shop rather than the type of garage we have. It had little extraneous storage and was all about function. He kept it fairly clean, but he couldn't win the battle against overcrowding, whether it be from parts or tools (he had plenty of both).
Something I can't get out of my mind, though, is the fact that Larry's breed of hot rodder and car guy is slowly drifting away, getting smaller and smaller each year. Nowhere is this illustrated more than at the Goodguys show (the one to which we took the '61). Every year since the first year I've gone I notice fewer and fewer younger builders and roughly the same group of traditional builders. Disconcertingly the latter's numbers have been decreasing slowly, and the rate of newcomers is very slow. I take pride in the fact that I'm carrying on this tradition, this livelihood, and it saddens me to think that someday that mentality and type of person will no longer be around.
This isn't to say that car customization is disappearing completely. As any art form it's just changing. The tuner revolution in the last couple of decades is changing the face of car guys, but without the classics that made the original '50s and '60s revolutions so unique, I think the cornerstone of hot rodding is lost. That's partially why the pre-'60s hot rods interest me so much more than the late '60s and '70s; just like with our '61 Corvette, there were relatively few made. Those that had them loved them, and those that remain are treasured. When you reach the muscle car era, they were easily making 10,000 or 20,000 cars a year, and those numbers increased as you transition out of the 1960s and into the 1970s. Yes, I like Barracudas and Chargers and Camaros, but do they really impress me like a well-done '47 Mercury or a hand-tailored '40 Ford? Absolutely not. I can appreciate the work put into it (that's something that car guys will say transcends years, makes or models), but the car itself just doesn't do it for me.
But I digress. I cannot put down the art as it changes form into today's world of customizing, but I can certainly lament losing the very foundations of every car maker's hobbies, professions or lives. Someday I won't be one of the youngest people at a car show to appreciate old cars, I'll be one of the oldest. And what's weirder is that someday the "classic" cars sitting at the fairgrounds or driving in parades may be the very cars driving on our roads today. Do they have the same magic or charisma as the heavy-grilled Pontiacs and Chryslers? Not a tenth. But someday they'll be considered old and people may change their fenders and engines, paint them expressively and call them their 'hot rods.' I received an eerie preview of this at a recent 'car show' that came to my town. With an entry fee, nearly anyone could enter a car. What struck me out of the several hundred cars there was that the oldest one was a late '60s make. Everything else were '70s, '80s and even some '90s cars. I couldn't believe it. Yes there were some well-done Mustangs and Firebirds, but I was extremely disappointed in both the turnout and the ensuing atmosphere. If that's the future of hot rodding, it only motivates me more to take care of the '61 and complete the Maxwell. If I don't, Lord knows who will (or, more likely will never).
Larry's visitation earlier this week was well attended by many people, some of whom wore hot rod club shirts or racing attire. Photo albums sat on the dark stained wood tables showing him tinkering with his automobiles over the years in happier---and healthier---days. Most poignantly, though, were that his Ford and Mercury sat just outside of the funeral home door underneath the metal awning and out of the rain. The cold wind blew some of the falling drops onto their bumpers, seemingly throwing tears about where you'd expect them to be if cars had faces. I imagine---tears or not---that they, too, were mourning the loss of their best friend and caretaker, the man who had given both of them life. I imagine he'll miss them as well, especially since cars like that have an uncanny ability to give their owners such satisfaction and happiness. Any car guy will agree with that. More importantly, though, everyone who knew Larry Lamb would agree that he was dearly loved and truly will be missed.
03 December, 2010
13 September, 2010
The Details of the Craftsmanship
If I were actually an outside reader of this blog (of which there may be one or two poor souls), I would be inclined to think that Woodsie was dead. Certainly from the frequency of which blogs have been posted it would appear that someone so eager to work on and report on old cars and racing must be dead or else he would have published something earlier. Well, contrary to popular belief I have not been dead nor have I been excommunicated or detained for unwittingly chasing a small rabbit across the Iran border. No, the factors influencing the blog frequency have been slightly more normal (like summer class, medical school applications, radio stuff and current schoolwork). Nonetheless, I'm trying to get myself caught up on all of the many topics that have run through my head since June about which I'd like to write.
For now, though, a brief update. My time that I can spend working on the Maxwell and Corvette have been pretty limited, normally to weekends now that school has commenced again. As a result I can't spend a great deal of time doing something as intensive as opening the rear axle of the Maxwell or affixing the new brackets and soft top frame to the '61. Instead we have been trying to appeal to the Garage's needs first. My father decided a couple of weeks ago that our incessant sweeping of the earthen-looking floor up there wasn't working, so we decided to power wash the concrete. It was a mildly interesting experience peeling back layers of dirt and loose concrete; I began to see old dried paint from the many years my dad used to paint cars for extra money. There was some Roman Red from the Corvette and some silver from my car. There were also countless colors belonging to cars that had been born and sold from the Garage's confines long before I was a fleeting thought in my parents' minds. In the end, though, it was nice to get the floor looking good again (well, as best the uneven floor can these days).
When I wasn't doing that or some other random cleaning task (like moving the old Maxwell fenders off the floor before the winter), I would periodically go back and work on the Maxwell. I began by employing the incredibly powerful carb cleaner that comes in a bucket. I took the oiling caps from the rear axle, originally covered with black grease and dirt, and I put them in the metal basket that gets dipped into the solution. After leaving the caps for anywhere from 15-30 minutes, I would remove them, douse in water and wipe off, and voila! I would have shiny caps again! It was pretty neat, but more importantly it was easy. No spraying or wire-brushing, just dunk and leave!
While the caps were off I would scrape the rust off and apply some spray paint, and overall I'm happy with the product so far. Over time the car gets more and more covered with protective rust, and it's neat to see the car for what it is, not what it looks like covered in distracting rust that blurs the details of the craftsmanship. After all, thus far I've found the car living up to its old tagline of "Perfectly Simple, Simply Perfect." I couldn't agree more, even though I'm yet to understand how this car can come to life when it's all put together.
Oh well, that's for another post. This was just a teaser, though, for what's to come. Now off to bed!
For now, though, a brief update. My time that I can spend working on the Maxwell and Corvette have been pretty limited, normally to weekends now that school has commenced again. As a result I can't spend a great deal of time doing something as intensive as opening the rear axle of the Maxwell or affixing the new brackets and soft top frame to the '61. Instead we have been trying to appeal to the Garage's needs first. My father decided a couple of weeks ago that our incessant sweeping of the earthen-looking floor up there wasn't working, so we decided to power wash the concrete. It was a mildly interesting experience peeling back layers of dirt and loose concrete; I began to see old dried paint from the many years my dad used to paint cars for extra money. There was some Roman Red from the Corvette and some silver from my car. There were also countless colors belonging to cars that had been born and sold from the Garage's confines long before I was a fleeting thought in my parents' minds. In the end, though, it was nice to get the floor looking good again (well, as best the uneven floor can these days).
When I wasn't doing that or some other random cleaning task (like moving the old Maxwell fenders off the floor before the winter), I would periodically go back and work on the Maxwell. I began by employing the incredibly powerful carb cleaner that comes in a bucket. I took the oiling caps from the rear axle, originally covered with black grease and dirt, and I put them in the metal basket that gets dipped into the solution. After leaving the caps for anywhere from 15-30 minutes, I would remove them, douse in water and wipe off, and voila! I would have shiny caps again! It was pretty neat, but more importantly it was easy. No spraying or wire-brushing, just dunk and leave!
While the caps were off I would scrape the rust off and apply some spray paint, and overall I'm happy with the product so far. Over time the car gets more and more covered with protective rust, and it's neat to see the car for what it is, not what it looks like covered in distracting rust that blurs the details of the craftsmanship. After all, thus far I've found the car living up to its old tagline of "Perfectly Simple, Simply Perfect." I couldn't agree more, even though I'm yet to understand how this car can come to life when it's all put together.Oh well, that's for another post. This was just a teaser, though, for what's to come. Now off to bed!
17 June, 2010
Purged From the Car's Skeleton
February sixth was the last time my words managed to find their way into a blog such as this, and I'm sad to say that not a ton has happened up in the garage during that time. It's only been in the last week and a half that I've been able to get back up to that old stone edifice to get my hands dirty again, and I must say that I've been incredibly happy for every minute of it.
I won't go into a ton of details about my year, as that would be for another, more introspective blog entry, but I will say that a few of my friends were abroad, I was taking a few tough classes and I had to study for and take the MCAT. Needless to say, it was an insanely long marathon, especially the latter two of that list. But, thankfully, all that is over for now and I'm finally able to feel completely like myself up in the Garage.
Most of the activity began when the brake lights in my Pontiac came on. The "Trac Off" light as well as the ABS light was on which, according to the seemingly-useless manual, means that the "brakes need to be serviced." Thanks? I hooked up an error reader to the dash, but it said that there weren't any errors to correct. Talking to my dad, we made the decision that the brakes should probably be changed (at least the pads), so without really asking me he went and bought brake pads. I immediately jacked up the car and tore into the brakes, and everything went fairly swimmingly. The right rear rotors were really rusted and pitted, though, so we had them re-ground so they're smooth and shiny again (and we all love shiny things, right?). With everything back in working order, the car is now parked back in our yard by the driveway, although I'm yet to put the fragile and cracked (and cheap) hubcaps back on. Oh, I lost one over the winter, by the way. Went over a pothole on the interstate, and when I arrived at school I found my car looking a bit destitute without a hubcap on the front. Thankfully we've purchased extras in the past, so the next time I came home I was able to put one on.
Whilst up in the garage, though, I didn't just spend time on my car. I climbed to the back of the garage to get my hands on the old Maxwell for the first time in ages. Trust me, that car has invaded my thoughts so many times during the school year. Constantly I imagine what I can do once the weather warms, and I'm always trying to figure out what to do next. The upside to all of that was that I could jump right in when I got a chance to work on it. Never mind the downside of not focusing on schoolwork, etc.
Anyway, I spent quite a bit of time in the past week scrubbing rust off of the frame with a wire brush. Oddly, though, that's much harder than it sounds (or maybe I just get really into it). By the time I'm finished, normally my heart is pounding and I'm covered in sweat and dust from the rotting metal I purged from the car's skeleton. Once it's off, though, I quickly spray over the cleaned area with primer. This is taking a page from my the first Woodsie's book (my grandpa), for when he cared for the Maxwell, he sprayed some random paint on the front end of its frame. That seemed odd at the time, but as I learned decades later when I started to work on the car, that meant that not a bit of rust was growing on it. The way I figure, even if I don't get much done on the car this summer her metal will be sealed beneath the primer waiting for me to get back.
It's great to see the car transforming slowly from a piece of rust to a primed car that actually looks like progress is being made on it. I can't wait to post some pictures! But the car is still a long way from being completely covered, so don't get too eager. Every little piece I do, though, is an important part of her completion. The rear axle is still sitting on the ground, and I'm still having trouble getting the tires off. Removing the lug nut and the little protective plate (a pseudo-washer) should do it, even with the use of a wheel-puller, yet neither wheel budges. It appears that the actual center hub is attached to the brake drum, but that would take some loosening of the brake pads in order to get it off. Who knows, though. I may not even need to take them off, but we'll see. Either way, I'll have to open up the rear end and try to catch all of the grease and lubricant that comes out (I'm praying there won't be any little nuts or bolts that fall out, too. Or gears). That way I can inspect the splines of all the gears and mechanisms in there to make sure that they won't break when we first try to drive the car. My father says that I should just leave it alone because if you grab the driveshaft and turn it one of the wheels turns too. That's true, but the last thing I want is to put the whole pressure of a finished car on those uninspected gears and have something go horribly wrong at speed. Then we'd have a really nice museum piece to permanently store in the back of the garage. I don't know. It'll be a tough decision.
With parts of it primed, though, I decided to take a break from the Maxwell and focus on the soft top bows of the old Corvette. In the "offseason," so to speak, my dad remembered that he had a friend from a long time ago (appropriately called Graybeard") who works on old cars. We talked to him quite a while back and he said he's done soft tops before and would love to do the old Corvette's. First, though, I would need to finish those bows. In order to do that, I made sure that they were well-covered in paint and that we had all of the pieces (we're close). I made sure that I can open and close them well and that I had the design of the top ingrained in my head. I made sure not to paint over some of the screw heads and that all of the old staples (shot into cork to affix the original fabric to the top) were removed. I'm about halfway done with that last job, but I'm getting there. The next step will be to call Graybeard and see what he thinks about a timetable for finishing it.
Aside from the soft top frame, I decided to lift the cover off of the '61 and clean her up just in case there was a car show tonight (there wasn't one). I got the entire driver's side cleaned off and shiny before moving to the other side, but when I did I couldn't believe it. On the front right fender was a giant spot of paint missing. It was probably half an inch by half an inch, and interestingly the primer was gone as well. I can't figure out what caused it, either. I don't see an impact mark that would mean something whacked it, but I highly doubt that, as my dad kind of thinks, that there was a bubble in the paint that finally came out over the winter. I looked on the ground but failed to find the chip, which makes it even more mysterious...That also meant, though, that any hopes of going to a car show with it would be dashed until we can get some touch-up paint on it. The spot is so deep, though, trying to fix it ourselves would look awful. I talked to my parents, and my dad went up and looked at it, and I think we've decided that we'll need to take it across town and get it professionally touched up. This also ruins our chances of going to the Goodguys show, unfortunately. That's alright, though. Our goal has always been to get it up to the show and back, and we accomplished that goal last year (if you were reading the blog then).
The car has done a great job since then, and it's neat that we're finally starting to look at it with the attitude of "What can we do to make it better?" as opposed to "What do we have to do to get it done?" She's coming along, though, and she'll definitely go to some local car shows this summer. It's a little disappointing, though, that such an odd thing (and something so small, at least by measurement) would stop us. Oh well.
I'll leave the neatest part of my experiences in the Garage until next post, though. I was trying to move the new fenders from the front of the garage to behind the Maxwell, but this meant cleaning and moving a few things. In doing so, I not only sorted through car parts, but I found the equivalent of a time capsule buried in the back of the Garage. This capsule ended up taking me back three generations and would give me some more mysteries that only deepen the pathos of that building. Stay tuned for that, plus a really neat find that relates to the Maxwell---something that I had forgotten all about needing!
Either way, though, I'm glad the blog is alive and well again. More soon...
I won't go into a ton of details about my year, as that would be for another, more introspective blog entry, but I will say that a few of my friends were abroad, I was taking a few tough classes and I had to study for and take the MCAT. Needless to say, it was an insanely long marathon, especially the latter two of that list. But, thankfully, all that is over for now and I'm finally able to feel completely like myself up in the Garage.
Most of the activity began when the brake lights in my Pontiac came on. The "Trac Off" light as well as the ABS light was on which, according to the seemingly-useless manual, means that the "brakes need to be serviced." Thanks? I hooked up an error reader to the dash, but it said that there weren't any errors to correct. Talking to my dad, we made the decision that the brakes should probably be changed (at least the pads), so without really asking me he went and bought brake pads. I immediately jacked up the car and tore into the brakes, and everything went fairly swimmingly. The right rear rotors were really rusted and pitted, though, so we had them re-ground so they're smooth and shiny again (and we all love shiny things, right?). With everything back in working order, the car is now parked back in our yard by the driveway, although I'm yet to put the fragile and cracked (and cheap) hubcaps back on. Oh, I lost one over the winter, by the way. Went over a pothole on the interstate, and when I arrived at school I found my car looking a bit destitute without a hubcap on the front. Thankfully we've purchased extras in the past, so the next time I came home I was able to put one on.
Whilst up in the garage, though, I didn't just spend time on my car. I climbed to the back of the garage to get my hands on the old Maxwell for the first time in ages. Trust me, that car has invaded my thoughts so many times during the school year. Constantly I imagine what I can do once the weather warms, and I'm always trying to figure out what to do next. The upside to all of that was that I could jump right in when I got a chance to work on it. Never mind the downside of not focusing on schoolwork, etc.
Anyway, I spent quite a bit of time in the past week scrubbing rust off of the frame with a wire brush. Oddly, though, that's much harder than it sounds (or maybe I just get really into it). By the time I'm finished, normally my heart is pounding and I'm covered in sweat and dust from the rotting metal I purged from the car's skeleton. Once it's off, though, I quickly spray over the cleaned area with primer. This is taking a page from my the first Woodsie's book (my grandpa), for when he cared for the Maxwell, he sprayed some random paint on the front end of its frame. That seemed odd at the time, but as I learned decades later when I started to work on the car, that meant that not a bit of rust was growing on it. The way I figure, even if I don't get much done on the car this summer her metal will be sealed beneath the primer waiting for me to get back.
It's great to see the car transforming slowly from a piece of rust to a primed car that actually looks like progress is being made on it. I can't wait to post some pictures! But the car is still a long way from being completely covered, so don't get too eager. Every little piece I do, though, is an important part of her completion. The rear axle is still sitting on the ground, and I'm still having trouble getting the tires off. Removing the lug nut and the little protective plate (a pseudo-washer) should do it, even with the use of a wheel-puller, yet neither wheel budges. It appears that the actual center hub is attached to the brake drum, but that would take some loosening of the brake pads in order to get it off. Who knows, though. I may not even need to take them off, but we'll see. Either way, I'll have to open up the rear end and try to catch all of the grease and lubricant that comes out (I'm praying there won't be any little nuts or bolts that fall out, too. Or gears). That way I can inspect the splines of all the gears and mechanisms in there to make sure that they won't break when we first try to drive the car. My father says that I should just leave it alone because if you grab the driveshaft and turn it one of the wheels turns too. That's true, but the last thing I want is to put the whole pressure of a finished car on those uninspected gears and have something go horribly wrong at speed. Then we'd have a really nice museum piece to permanently store in the back of the garage. I don't know. It'll be a tough decision.
With parts of it primed, though, I decided to take a break from the Maxwell and focus on the soft top bows of the old Corvette. In the "offseason," so to speak, my dad remembered that he had a friend from a long time ago (appropriately called Graybeard") who works on old cars. We talked to him quite a while back and he said he's done soft tops before and would love to do the old Corvette's. First, though, I would need to finish those bows. In order to do that, I made sure that they were well-covered in paint and that we had all of the pieces (we're close). I made sure that I can open and close them well and that I had the design of the top ingrained in my head. I made sure not to paint over some of the screw heads and that all of the old staples (shot into cork to affix the original fabric to the top) were removed. I'm about halfway done with that last job, but I'm getting there. The next step will be to call Graybeard and see what he thinks about a timetable for finishing it.
Aside from the soft top frame, I decided to lift the cover off of the '61 and clean her up just in case there was a car show tonight (there wasn't one). I got the entire driver's side cleaned off and shiny before moving to the other side, but when I did I couldn't believe it. On the front right fender was a giant spot of paint missing. It was probably half an inch by half an inch, and interestingly the primer was gone as well. I can't figure out what caused it, either. I don't see an impact mark that would mean something whacked it, but I highly doubt that, as my dad kind of thinks, that there was a bubble in the paint that finally came out over the winter. I looked on the ground but failed to find the chip, which makes it even more mysterious...That also meant, though, that any hopes of going to a car show with it would be dashed until we can get some touch-up paint on it. The spot is so deep, though, trying to fix it ourselves would look awful. I talked to my parents, and my dad went up and looked at it, and I think we've decided that we'll need to take it across town and get it professionally touched up. This also ruins our chances of going to the Goodguys show, unfortunately. That's alright, though. Our goal has always been to get it up to the show and back, and we accomplished that goal last year (if you were reading the blog then).
The car has done a great job since then, and it's neat that we're finally starting to look at it with the attitude of "What can we do to make it better?" as opposed to "What do we have to do to get it done?" She's coming along, though, and she'll definitely go to some local car shows this summer. It's a little disappointing, though, that such an odd thing (and something so small, at least by measurement) would stop us. Oh well.
I'll leave the neatest part of my experiences in the Garage until next post, though. I was trying to move the new fenders from the front of the garage to behind the Maxwell, but this meant cleaning and moving a few things. In doing so, I not only sorted through car parts, but I found the equivalent of a time capsule buried in the back of the Garage. This capsule ended up taking me back three generations and would give me some more mysteries that only deepen the pathos of that building. Stay tuned for that, plus a really neat find that relates to the Maxwell---something that I had forgotten all about needing!
Either way, though, I'm glad the blog is alive and well again. More soon...
06 February, 2010
An Interesting Dichotomy
So, with quite a bit to do this evening, I don't feel like I have time to go over everything. I feel as though I owe it to the few readers of this blog, though (and to my peace of mind) to try to update as much as I can. It has, after all, been nearly three months since my last post. I assure you this blog is not dead, nor do I want it to be. I feel like now moreso than in the past I kind of need it to stay alive. It serves as an important chronicle of the restoration of the cars, yes, but it also serves as a retrospective self-analysis. That's kind of the topic that I was wanting to dwell upon in this post, but I'm not sure if I'll get there. Part of me says that soon I should close the browser and get to work on my homework; I've been highly unmotivated lately, and I feel like I haven't done near as much as I should lately.
Anyway, business first. After over two years of work, we gleefully received the Maxwell fenders that had been made for us by a gentleman in Indiana (I think it was Indiana, anyway). Some coworkers of my father were driving in the area anyway so they picked them up and brought them to us. The man used 100+ year old machines to craft these fenders, and we sent him the originals from our car to pattern. I have to say that unwrapping them for the first time was an awe-inspiring moment after so long, seeing them be crafted into being and knowing the problems that he had to overcome. I can only imagine that's what our fenders looked like when they first came off the assembly line in 1910; his work wasn't absolutely perfect and flawless, but that makes it perfect for our Maxwell. All of those cars were hand built. All of them had welds showing and seams not perfectly straight. It imbues a sort of charm, and I absolutely can't wait to see them on a nearly completed car sometime. There's so much to do to her, though, before we can think about attaching them.
We also found a man in town a couple of weeks ago who is fully capable of putting the soft top on our frame for the 1961 Corvette. He's giving us a wonderful discount to do it, and I think he'll do a fantastic job. He's been in the business for 40+ years and is someone my dad has known that whole time (but honestly forgot about his services for years!). I'm glad he remembered eventually, though!
But aside from that, school has been keeping me very busy, and the crippling cold kept all of us out of the garage this winter break. It hasn't been pleasant. In fact, today was one of the first days in a while that we could get the garage door open since it's been frozen in many inches of snow. I wasn't even the one to open it, as my dad did that early this morning. Either way, I was sent up to the garage today to grab some drill bits for a project back home, and it felt strangely good to be back in there. It was one of those moments, I guess, that's hard to describe to people who weren't there. It's just been so long since I've seen the old cars and tools and such, and since that place has so many great memories tied in it actually made me a little sad that I don't get to go in there very often anymore.
The bigger issue that struck me as I stood by the '61 was how almost humorous it was that simple things like seeing cars that are the fruits of my labors and my family's labors and being back in a place where I've loved to be all of my life. It is an interesting dichotomy that I live in that I have chosen such a difficult path for my life (in medical school and such), yet part of me always wishes that I could have an easy way out and be happy doing something simple. Part of me has always said that if medical school doesn't work or something else I could restore cars and antiques for a living, or work on the radio and be happy doing that. I'm not sure if I could, though, when I really think about it. I'm really passionate about going to medical school and following through on my degree (even though I don't know which exact facet of my field I want to pursue), and while I could be happy toiling away in a garage every day I know that after a while I would wonder what could have been.
And so for now I'll get to my homework and end this blog post before it gets too long and uninteresting. I do hope to update this more often as the weather improves and as I get back to working in the garage. For now, though, I have to keep doing what I'm doing. Best of luck, everyone, and stay warm! It's good to be back, by the way!
Anyway, business first. After over two years of work, we gleefully received the Maxwell fenders that had been made for us by a gentleman in Indiana (I think it was Indiana, anyway). Some coworkers of my father were driving in the area anyway so they picked them up and brought them to us. The man used 100+ year old machines to craft these fenders, and we sent him the originals from our car to pattern. I have to say that unwrapping them for the first time was an awe-inspiring moment after so long, seeing them be crafted into being and knowing the problems that he had to overcome. I can only imagine that's what our fenders looked like when they first came off the assembly line in 1910; his work wasn't absolutely perfect and flawless, but that makes it perfect for our Maxwell. All of those cars were hand built. All of them had welds showing and seams not perfectly straight. It imbues a sort of charm, and I absolutely can't wait to see them on a nearly completed car sometime. There's so much to do to her, though, before we can think about attaching them.
We also found a man in town a couple of weeks ago who is fully capable of putting the soft top on our frame for the 1961 Corvette. He's giving us a wonderful discount to do it, and I think he'll do a fantastic job. He's been in the business for 40+ years and is someone my dad has known that whole time (but honestly forgot about his services for years!). I'm glad he remembered eventually, though!
But aside from that, school has been keeping me very busy, and the crippling cold kept all of us out of the garage this winter break. It hasn't been pleasant. In fact, today was one of the first days in a while that we could get the garage door open since it's been frozen in many inches of snow. I wasn't even the one to open it, as my dad did that early this morning. Either way, I was sent up to the garage today to grab some drill bits for a project back home, and it felt strangely good to be back in there. It was one of those moments, I guess, that's hard to describe to people who weren't there. It's just been so long since I've seen the old cars and tools and such, and since that place has so many great memories tied in it actually made me a little sad that I don't get to go in there very often anymore.
The bigger issue that struck me as I stood by the '61 was how almost humorous it was that simple things like seeing cars that are the fruits of my labors and my family's labors and being back in a place where I've loved to be all of my life. It is an interesting dichotomy that I live in that I have chosen such a difficult path for my life (in medical school and such), yet part of me always wishes that I could have an easy way out and be happy doing something simple. Part of me has always said that if medical school doesn't work or something else I could restore cars and antiques for a living, or work on the radio and be happy doing that. I'm not sure if I could, though, when I really think about it. I'm really passionate about going to medical school and following through on my degree (even though I don't know which exact facet of my field I want to pursue), and while I could be happy toiling away in a garage every day I know that after a while I would wonder what could have been.
And so for now I'll get to my homework and end this blog post before it gets too long and uninteresting. I do hope to update this more often as the weather improves and as I get back to working in the garage. For now, though, I have to keep doing what I'm doing. Best of luck, everyone, and stay warm! It's good to be back, by the way!
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