When I bought my first Model A (see the December 2023 Script), I convinced myself that I wanted a project. That delusion featured such phrases as”it will be more fun to restore one as I learn about them”, and “I might finish before my six-year old son moves out”. Turns out, the dream didn’t quite match up with reality in the end.
The car I purchased was a relatively rare 1928, Canadian-made four door phaeton. I genuinely enjoyed working on the car, but in the end, it was just a bit too much work for the time I have in this phase of my life.
The challenges were, in no particular order:
- Having rotten top bows and a long wait time for interior and tops
- Being a multi-disc clutch, but having worn out transmission teeth and ring gear (replacement parts not being easy to source (even the disassembly tool isn’t easy to find)
- Having body damage on just about every panel
- Having brakes so worn out they’re being held together by nails
- and so, so very many other things
At the same time, I’d had a lot of fun working on the car. I’d learned a lot about every system, and it became a father-son bonding activity on a lot of different days. My little guy learned about working on a vintage car, using heavy tools, and using critical safety gear.
We even discovered that the car was numbers matching, with frame and engine numbers matching:
That said, with life being busy and only a few hours a week to work on the car, I found myself going out to the garage less and less each week. Despite trying to take each task one at a time, the mountain was just a little too tall to climb. On top of which, I attended meeting after meeting and heard about all the fun SMCAFC members were having, and realized I really wanted to be out there driving.
I my heart of hearts, I wanted a drivable car.
With only a double car garage on a little city lot, and having an electric car to charge in the other bay, I didn’t have the luxury of keeping the phaeton if I wanted to pick up a drivable A.
The last thing holding me back was the story of the car. When I’d picked it up the gentleman I bought it from had been trying to find restoration homes for a group of cars. He was a hot-rod guy himself, but had been helping out with an estate disbursement and was carefully auditing people to find folks who wanted to restore the cars instead.
The phaeton on the day it came home
After I committed to selling the car, I started down the same road of trying to audit people as best I could. I talked to a ton of folks, and finally found someone who said he wanted another project. He’d restored a few cars and talked an educated game, and though he talked me d own in price to next to nothing “because it’ll take a lot to restore this one”. I was losing a bunch of money on the deal, but I figured it had been an education, and I felt good that I was doing the best I could to keep the original owner’s restoration goals alive.
The phaeton on the day it went to its new home
Unfortunately, it turned out I got fed a good line. A week after I dropped the parts off at the buyer’s house, he had it relisted for more than I’d paid for it. You never can tell with some people, and it definitely left a sour taste in my mouth, but such is life! Hopefully the car ends up with someone who treats it well, but I have to confess, I don’t hold out too much hope (the tow truck driver who dropped it off said he didn’t realize anyone restored these anymore).
That said, when my new car arrived from BC, all my regrets went right out the window. The car has been wonderful, and I’ve already put a ton of miles on it with more to come. Though I hope to restore an old one again sometime in my life, the driver route really was the right one right now, and there’s hopefully time for both later.
Life is never boring, is it? See you on the road!
Adam
