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The Philosophy of Car Restorationby:John Baird I as debating with my friend John, a dilemma I was having with the dash clock of my 1967 Malibu. As you might have guessed, It didn't work. Of course it didn't work. Everyone I have ever seen was broken. One would like to know if any of them ever worked? Just the shear number of broken dash clocks tooling around the American roads leads me to believe that they never worked. When my Great Aunt Ruth first drove the '67 I have now off the show room floor, I'm sure she looked at the dash to see the time and it read the same 17 minutes after 3 that it does now. What does this have to do with philosophy, what is this philosophy, and what place does philosophy have under the hood of a rusty Chevy? I hope to answer all three of these questions for you, but first, back to the clock debate. We weren't debating whether or not to fix it. We were debating how to fix it. You see, if I had it rebuilt with quartz movement, as John suggested, I could not consider my car a "complete" restoration. If I repaired the corroded connections, changed the coils, and lubed the gears, I could achieve "complete" restoration status. Conversely, I would have a clock that I am convinced would eventually have to be fixed again. So, do I follow john and have a partially restored car, or do I repair a mal-engineered piece of crap and cause myself years of hassle? The solution eluded me yet my problems did not end with my inability to measure time. This was only a symptom. The problem was spread much further than that. If fact, it was spread over the entire car. It was the paint. You see if I was to succeed in a complete restoration, everything must be as it was in 1967 when the car was new. This posed a tremendous problem to me. I did not want my car to have a 1967 type paint job. I wanted my car to shine and glimmer in the sunlight like the new cars I see today. Yet this still was only a symptom, though, as odd as it may seem, this was the prima facie of my root dilemma. Now, if your mind is reeling with how a clock and the paint of a 1967 Malibu could ever be related don't worry I assure you that they are. It was only after the problem with the paint that I finally realized what I was looking for. I was not looking for a complete restoration of reality. I was looking for a restoration of fantasy. I do not want my car to be as it was in 1967. I want it to be as I imagined it in 1967. These are two very distinct things. My mind has concocted a vehicle that has never existed, and that is what I want. I want the paint to shine with a modern clear coat, and I want the hands on the clock to actually move in some sort of rhythmical pattern. The car in my mind is better than it was in 1967 because my mind has grown accustomed to the technological advances of modern cars. It has burned these things into the mental picture of my dream car. This car is actually a hybrid of the beauty of the past and the function of today. It is this, and that unyielding ideal of a complete restoration that was causing all of my problems. I realized that the cars that we've been sweating, bleeding, and sometimes crying over are now substandard. Let's face facts. If our beloved cars were actually sold, as they were new on the lot next to cars of today, they would never gain a second glance. Yes, the chrome and sharp distinct style lines would gain interest, but it would be apparent at first glance, that when held to today's standards, they're crap. The paint would not glimmer, the brakes would be laughed at, safety is non-existent, the engines and suspension could not even be compared on the same sheet, and, of course, the clock still would not work. So, does this mean that all is lost? That we should scrap the whole idea of restoration, buy Volvos, and put the all the money we've been using on our cars in low risk mutual funds? Not on your life! As hopeless as our situation may appear, have no fear. Though I stand upon the precipice of automobile oblivion, facing sure motivational destruction, I am able to turn adversity into salvation with my philosophy of car restoration. This philosophy involves almost no effort, no pain, and no Volvos (you may still want to do that mutual fund thing though). It's as simple as this: Build the car you want to build. It's your car. Do what you want. Don't worry about "complete restorations" and other such silliness. Unless, of course, that's what you want. Don't let some silly notion that your car has to be either this or that creep up and destroy the car you've been dreaming of. Those silly notions are just that, silly. They are created by people who don't own your car. They own their own car. The one in their head. The beauty of this hobby is that those cars our minds have created are as distinct as we are. It doesn't matter if you want to turn your Pacer into a 500 horse asphalt chewer, or if you want a lime green Camaro. The cars you have in your garage are just like you, one of a kind. As for me, I plan, very shortly, to be driving my sleek shinny beautiful Malibu down a twisting country road with nowhere to be and no time to be there. Of course, if I did, I would be able to look down at my cash clock and be assured I would get there on time.
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