Twistex
Well-Known Member
"Sunset lights the sky, and there's a shadow over me..
Black clouds in the east
And there's a twister underneath.."
I've done something rather silly.
I've bought another car.
Now, my friends and relatives wouldn't define that as silly, but when my friends and relatives think of buying cars, they think of a few things. Going to the local dealer, finding a car you like, working out payment plans, haggling with the dealer, and then driving off in your shiny new car. Sometimes, just new-ish. Not "Yegods, that thing is 10 years older than you are!" You have shiny metal, not patina and rust. The question is never asked "What kind of fuel does it take?"..
Unless you're buying a classic. Which I have done.
I like the car, hence why I bought it. It's still not quite the car you show off to the folks, though. Especially if your folks have told you several times "No buying a project car, it's a stupid idea." So, I blame them. They told me not to.. so I did it.
I've been looking for a project car for some time now. I've always had a fondness for classic rolling iron. The delicious burble and healthy rumble of a V8 warms the cold, dead places of my heart. The sloping backs, meaty sides, and healthy appetites of these old machines make all my happy places tingle in just the right way. My attraction has only grown stronger over the years, as my lust for a classic car became something of a feasible idea. However, the more that time passes, the more things came up, the fewer good deals there were, and seemingly, the less money I had.
I remember when I was 15, and I wanted to buy my first car. I had my eyes and heart set on a 1972 Mercury Montego. It was in great shape, a little cosmetic damage, but overall solid. They wanted $1000, and that was pretty much all I had saved up. I talked with the owners. I chuckled with absent delight at the ignition in the center of the dash. I fondly prodded the 8-track player. It was huge, white, and packed a 351ci Windsor v8 under the hood. Bench seats big enough to sleep on, and more ashtrays than a cigar club. I was smitten, to say the least.
The parentals, of course, were less than thrilled. Well, we'll refine that. My father thought the idea was hilarious. He grew up in California, drag racing with his brother in various clubs. They used to spend the weekends destroying slicks in his brother's Pontiac GTO, or blazing down the ventura freeway in a blueprinted, dropped, fully-kitted Volvo p1800, or laughing at the rookies who challenged the local 440 Charger that had more getup and go under the hood than a saturn 5 rocket. His biggest concern was how much money I would wheedle from him for gas. He even tried to defend my choice to my mother; "Well, if he gets in an accident, he'll always be at least 16 feet from the point of impact!"
My mother, however, was less than thrilled. Adamantly opposed. Indignantly against. Deviously, underhandledly, schemingly against. She bought a 1987 Toyota Tercel for $400 off some family friends, and shut the door on my classic car lust. I decided to one-up her, and just buy another project car. When wind of this reached her, it came down with furious anger, and swift repirmanding. No car older than I was would "disgrace" her doorstep. My dreams of classic iron would wither on the vine until I was old enough to move out. Of course, I should have realized this all many years previously, when my father had attempted to buy a 57 Belair to restore, and she took the checkbook away. Downside of your wife being an accountant by trade, and in control of all the money.
Years passed, I grew older, learned technology, moved out, went through a series of apartments, and harbored a secret dream, filled with carbuerators and steel.
Oh, and the Toyota? I never even drove it. My sister wrecked her new Mazda after owning it for three months, and the parentals gave her the car. So, my father and I snuck off and bought me a 1980 Ford Granada the next year. Well, at least it was a big white boat... of some sort.
The granada gave way to a Neon, which in turn, helped finance a Mustang. The Mustang has only served to reignite the once blazing lust, and I started browsing craigslist with renewed interest.
Last year being the year of the president randomly throwing money at the population in order to shut them up, it became possible again. I began setting up a budget for the project, and looking at possible purchases. However, it was much too soon, and I didn't have the money. Then, I had half the money, and it was still too soon. So, I made a list of requirements for my project car, to waste some time until I had more cash, and the market was a bit larger. When people unload their projects to get some winter money in. The requirements were as follows.
#1: Nothing from 1960 or earlier. It'll just be a that much harder to find parts, and the car will need a hell of a lot more work if it's much older. Colorado is not classic-car friendly when it comes to rust.
#2: I have to *really* like the car. If you like the car, but it's not the one you always wanted or whatever, then it becomes harder and harder to invest time and money into it.
#3: It has to be running. That way, it can work as a rolling restoration, and a backup car if needs be. I can also use it as a runabout for parts and etc. All in the name of saving my empty wallet from further abuse.
#4: It has to be less than $1000, but I'll push up to 1.1k if it's something fantastic.
#5: Nothing extremely rare, or foreign. It just makes it harder and harder to find parts, and shops who can do work on the car that I'm incapable of doing.
#6: Nothing awful. By this, I didn't just mean condition, I meant.. the car itself cannot suck. No VW Bugs. No Corvairs. No fox body mustangs. No 4 cylinder anything. It has to exude cool. Or, at least.. potential for high quality style and cool.
etc, etc.
I mean, it's all just a waiting game, right? Right?
So, I set these rules, and the next week, I promptly broke them. Luckily, only one; number three. A big one, high up on the list.. but I'm an idiot, and can therefore be excused from the rational thought process when it comes to things I really like.
A 1974 duster.
Here it is, in all of it's rusty, speed-hole filled, "what the **** color is that?" glory.
I love Dusters.
Another story, bear with me here...
Back about.. 10 years ago, I was involved in a rampant fight with a family member. The kind where doors are slammed, harsh words said, and later regretted. I had stormed out, taking a long walk around several short blocks. My mind boiling and festering with black clouds of upset and anger. I was barely noticing where I was going, but a Gold Duster in somone's driveway parted the clouds. All thought of anger and frustration vanished. I just stood and stared at this car. My mind was clear of all thoughts but one, "Damn.. That's a nice car... I want one." I must have stood there for 15 minutes, examining every detail, walking around it, peering inside, wishing I could pop the hood. It finally dawned on me, "Hey, this is somone's driveway. Let's not get arrested." I quickly scampered off. The car stuck with me. The color, the lines, the small whirlwind logo on the rear. Especially the name.
I've always been a very general car-fan. I never really gave thought to preference of Mopar vs. Chevy vs. Ford, etc. I've oggled classic Mustangs and Camaros.. But deep in the pits of my gasoline-fueled heart, the top spots of favor and unbridled lust have always gravitated to the 69 Chargers 440's, Hemi Cudas, 340 Dusters, Dart Swingers...
So when it came time to hunt for a project, what's the first thing I searched for? Yep. A bankruptcy attourney. ;) Nah. Dusters, of course!
So, storytime done with, here's the log of my restoration. This entry is actually about 10 months old, and I've been putting in as much weekend time as I can muster, so more updates to come, along with a hell of a lot of questions. As I've said elsewhere on here, I have a good bit of general knowledge but am sadly lacking in hands on experience. So, bear with me as I fumble with my carbs, and drop my headers, and punch holes in my sheet metal, and completely screw it up until I get it done right.
Black clouds in the east
And there's a twister underneath.."
I've done something rather silly.
I've bought another car.
Now, my friends and relatives wouldn't define that as silly, but when my friends and relatives think of buying cars, they think of a few things. Going to the local dealer, finding a car you like, working out payment plans, haggling with the dealer, and then driving off in your shiny new car. Sometimes, just new-ish. Not "Yegods, that thing is 10 years older than you are!" You have shiny metal, not patina and rust. The question is never asked "What kind of fuel does it take?"..
Unless you're buying a classic. Which I have done.
I like the car, hence why I bought it. It's still not quite the car you show off to the folks, though. Especially if your folks have told you several times "No buying a project car, it's a stupid idea." So, I blame them. They told me not to.. so I did it.
I've been looking for a project car for some time now. I've always had a fondness for classic rolling iron. The delicious burble and healthy rumble of a V8 warms the cold, dead places of my heart. The sloping backs, meaty sides, and healthy appetites of these old machines make all my happy places tingle in just the right way. My attraction has only grown stronger over the years, as my lust for a classic car became something of a feasible idea. However, the more that time passes, the more things came up, the fewer good deals there were, and seemingly, the less money I had.
I remember when I was 15, and I wanted to buy my first car. I had my eyes and heart set on a 1972 Mercury Montego. It was in great shape, a little cosmetic damage, but overall solid. They wanted $1000, and that was pretty much all I had saved up. I talked with the owners. I chuckled with absent delight at the ignition in the center of the dash. I fondly prodded the 8-track player. It was huge, white, and packed a 351ci Windsor v8 under the hood. Bench seats big enough to sleep on, and more ashtrays than a cigar club. I was smitten, to say the least.
The parentals, of course, were less than thrilled. Well, we'll refine that. My father thought the idea was hilarious. He grew up in California, drag racing with his brother in various clubs. They used to spend the weekends destroying slicks in his brother's Pontiac GTO, or blazing down the ventura freeway in a blueprinted, dropped, fully-kitted Volvo p1800, or laughing at the rookies who challenged the local 440 Charger that had more getup and go under the hood than a saturn 5 rocket. His biggest concern was how much money I would wheedle from him for gas. He even tried to defend my choice to my mother; "Well, if he gets in an accident, he'll always be at least 16 feet from the point of impact!"
My mother, however, was less than thrilled. Adamantly opposed. Indignantly against. Deviously, underhandledly, schemingly against. She bought a 1987 Toyota Tercel for $400 off some family friends, and shut the door on my classic car lust. I decided to one-up her, and just buy another project car. When wind of this reached her, it came down with furious anger, and swift repirmanding. No car older than I was would "disgrace" her doorstep. My dreams of classic iron would wither on the vine until I was old enough to move out. Of course, I should have realized this all many years previously, when my father had attempted to buy a 57 Belair to restore, and she took the checkbook away. Downside of your wife being an accountant by trade, and in control of all the money.
Years passed, I grew older, learned technology, moved out, went through a series of apartments, and harbored a secret dream, filled with carbuerators and steel.
Oh, and the Toyota? I never even drove it. My sister wrecked her new Mazda after owning it for three months, and the parentals gave her the car. So, my father and I snuck off and bought me a 1980 Ford Granada the next year. Well, at least it was a big white boat... of some sort.
The granada gave way to a Neon, which in turn, helped finance a Mustang. The Mustang has only served to reignite the once blazing lust, and I started browsing craigslist with renewed interest.
Last year being the year of the president randomly throwing money at the population in order to shut them up, it became possible again. I began setting up a budget for the project, and looking at possible purchases. However, it was much too soon, and I didn't have the money. Then, I had half the money, and it was still too soon. So, I made a list of requirements for my project car, to waste some time until I had more cash, and the market was a bit larger. When people unload their projects to get some winter money in. The requirements were as follows.
#1: Nothing from 1960 or earlier. It'll just be a that much harder to find parts, and the car will need a hell of a lot more work if it's much older. Colorado is not classic-car friendly when it comes to rust.
#2: I have to *really* like the car. If you like the car, but it's not the one you always wanted or whatever, then it becomes harder and harder to invest time and money into it.
#3: It has to be running. That way, it can work as a rolling restoration, and a backup car if needs be. I can also use it as a runabout for parts and etc. All in the name of saving my empty wallet from further abuse.
#4: It has to be less than $1000, but I'll push up to 1.1k if it's something fantastic.
#5: Nothing extremely rare, or foreign. It just makes it harder and harder to find parts, and shops who can do work on the car that I'm incapable of doing.
#6: Nothing awful. By this, I didn't just mean condition, I meant.. the car itself cannot suck. No VW Bugs. No Corvairs. No fox body mustangs. No 4 cylinder anything. It has to exude cool. Or, at least.. potential for high quality style and cool.
etc, etc.
I mean, it's all just a waiting game, right? Right?
So, I set these rules, and the next week, I promptly broke them. Luckily, only one; number three. A big one, high up on the list.. but I'm an idiot, and can therefore be excused from the rational thought process when it comes to things I really like.
A 1974 duster.
Here it is, in all of it's rusty, speed-hole filled, "what the **** color is that?" glory.
I love Dusters.
Another story, bear with me here...
Back about.. 10 years ago, I was involved in a rampant fight with a family member. The kind where doors are slammed, harsh words said, and later regretted. I had stormed out, taking a long walk around several short blocks. My mind boiling and festering with black clouds of upset and anger. I was barely noticing where I was going, but a Gold Duster in somone's driveway parted the clouds. All thought of anger and frustration vanished. I just stood and stared at this car. My mind was clear of all thoughts but one, "Damn.. That's a nice car... I want one." I must have stood there for 15 minutes, examining every detail, walking around it, peering inside, wishing I could pop the hood. It finally dawned on me, "Hey, this is somone's driveway. Let's not get arrested." I quickly scampered off. The car stuck with me. The color, the lines, the small whirlwind logo on the rear. Especially the name.
I've always been a very general car-fan. I never really gave thought to preference of Mopar vs. Chevy vs. Ford, etc. I've oggled classic Mustangs and Camaros.. But deep in the pits of my gasoline-fueled heart, the top spots of favor and unbridled lust have always gravitated to the 69 Chargers 440's, Hemi Cudas, 340 Dusters, Dart Swingers...
So when it came time to hunt for a project, what's the first thing I searched for? Yep. A bankruptcy attourney. ;) Nah. Dusters, of course!
So, storytime done with, here's the log of my restoration. This entry is actually about 10 months old, and I've been putting in as much weekend time as I can muster, so more updates to come, along with a hell of a lot of questions. As I've said elsewhere on here, I have a good bit of general knowledge but am sadly lacking in hands on experience. So, bear with me as I fumble with my carbs, and drop my headers, and punch holes in my sheet metal, and completely screw it up until I get it done right.
