My "beautiful" car.
Oh, fuck me.
Since there's nothing to do in Tennessee, I'm currently restoring a 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham D'Elegance. It's a black car, about 26-28 feet long, and gorgeous. Looks like a pimp car (or will, once I get the rust off and a new paintjob on). It's huge, probably seats about ten folks comfortably, and is a really nice example of neo-classic car styling.
Well, the car's battery is dead, and the key was turning freely in the ignition, not engaging the starter. I had to rent a steering-wheel puller, and took two days to open up the steering column.
Auto Mechanics 101. When you insert the key into the ignition, you're putting the key into the lock cylinder. The cylinder in this car turns a metal bar, which in turn rotates a plastic wheel, which draws back a plate and starts the car. The plastic wheel, in my case, is cracked. Not broken, but cracked enough to allow the metal bar to freely rotate.
Undaunted, I set out for a junkyard. First one: No cadillac, it's been crushed and sold for scrap. Damn.
Second Junkyard: The guy looked at me like I was speaking Greek. Bad sign. I explained the piece he wanted, and he refused to sell me one. The reason? I have to buy the whole steering column.
Now, I could fabricate this piece out of metal, and I bet this damn thing probably cost all of twelve cents. Unfortunately, since no one takes apart steering columns (like I did), I have to spend about a hundred bucks on a piece of machinery that I'm going to be pulling apart and using for parts. Add in the sheet metal and tools to repair the body (plus new floors for the garage, and stands to raise the car), a new paintjob, and I'm looking at over a thousand dollars, just to repair this damn thing. Not to mention the hours of labor, the hours of working for money, and the hours of just figuring out how to go about this.
Folks, I'm working in the Tennessee sun. No garage, currently. I don't even have a cover for the car (which I'm going to measure and buy today). No AC, no ventilation, and so I'm working inside a car with an average temperature of 110 degrees. The plush interior (all dark colors), as well as the base paint job (lovely and black) doesn't help.
Oh, God. Just thinking about the work I've got to do on this thing makes me want to cry. But, it's going to get better. I've just got to do this in stages. Once the car is running, I can worry about the paint, the new top (which just needs to be replaced), the weather-proofing, the re-doing of the trunk lock, the exterior trim, detailing...
I'm going to go and cry in my room, after I get a measurement and buy a car cover.
Since there's nothing to do in Tennessee, I'm currently restoring a 1989 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham D'Elegance. It's a black car, about 26-28 feet long, and gorgeous. Looks like a pimp car (or will, once I get the rust off and a new paintjob on). It's huge, probably seats about ten folks comfortably, and is a really nice example of neo-classic car styling.
Well, the car's battery is dead, and the key was turning freely in the ignition, not engaging the starter. I had to rent a steering-wheel puller, and took two days to open up the steering column.
Auto Mechanics 101. When you insert the key into the ignition, you're putting the key into the lock cylinder. The cylinder in this car turns a metal bar, which in turn rotates a plastic wheel, which draws back a plate and starts the car. The plastic wheel, in my case, is cracked. Not broken, but cracked enough to allow the metal bar to freely rotate.
Undaunted, I set out for a junkyard. First one: No cadillac, it's been crushed and sold for scrap. Damn.
Second Junkyard: The guy looked at me like I was speaking Greek. Bad sign. I explained the piece he wanted, and he refused to sell me one. The reason? I have to buy the whole steering column.
Now, I could fabricate this piece out of metal, and I bet this damn thing probably cost all of twelve cents. Unfortunately, since no one takes apart steering columns (like I did), I have to spend about a hundred bucks on a piece of machinery that I'm going to be pulling apart and using for parts. Add in the sheet metal and tools to repair the body (plus new floors for the garage, and stands to raise the car), a new paintjob, and I'm looking at over a thousand dollars, just to repair this damn thing. Not to mention the hours of labor, the hours of working for money, and the hours of just figuring out how to go about this.
Folks, I'm working in the Tennessee sun. No garage, currently. I don't even have a cover for the car (which I'm going to measure and buy today). No AC, no ventilation, and so I'm working inside a car with an average temperature of 110 degrees. The plush interior (all dark colors), as well as the base paint job (lovely and black) doesn't help.
Oh, God. Just thinking about the work I've got to do on this thing makes me want to cry. But, it's going to get better. I've just got to do this in stages. Once the car is running, I can worry about the paint, the new top (which just needs to be replaced), the weather-proofing, the re-doing of the trunk lock, the exterior trim, detailing...
I'm going to go and cry in my room, after I get a measurement and buy a car cover.