Projects Building My First Roadster in San Francisco

Thanks Tim!

I was on the fence about it at first, but from what I can tell it's far easier to work with than the steel I used for the fuel lines.

I love your perspective. They're all part of the build, and they're all parts of my world. One day I'll have a spotless garage with the finished roadster sitting on the painted concrete floor, but we have a lot to do between now and then. I'm enjoying the now.

Funny that you mention the dustpan. That was a gift I received on TRJ's last day in South San Francisco. It had been in one of my co-worker's families for years. And when we swept up the last of the dust and debris from moving more than two decades worth of magazines, it was mine. I still think of those days whenever I use it.

I'm with you on that. Everything has soul. It's up to us to make sure they live on—these cars are a prime example of that!

 

So true! All we can do is keep moving.

Love the art. Nick's roadster is a huge inspiration. I love his thread, and the fact that he puts tons of miles on the car.

Hell yeah! Work all day, then come back home and work deep into the night. If that's not traditional, I don't know what is.

You and I both. It's going to be a big day when the pieces come together.

Great eye. I should break out the brushes and take a stab at striping them myself!

 

Note: There are a few pieces of this update, some of which will be told in non-chronological order. Please bear with me.

I'll start things off with this picture of Yama and I. Old bike, old car, old friends. Even with the modern background, it has the feel of the snapshots we always used to publish in TRJ from back in the day. I'll share more about this day in a future Jalopy Journal column.

 

Sidebar 110: Welcome to Welding (Or Not)

My building is old. One hundred and one years old, to be exact. Living here at the end of Loyola Terrace has more advantages than one could imagine. There's the lack of traffic, the citrus trees in the back yard, the Edwardian architecture, and Roarie and Pukka—the dynamic duo of calicos—who spend their days roaming the grounds in search of snacks (and sometimes belly rubs).

What the old building lacks, however, is a strong electrical system. When you walk through the dining room, the lights flicker. In the fuse panel, you'll find hand-labeled glass fuses. Although it's great for old San Francisco charm, it's not all that conducive to welding. Nonetheless, I decided to finally give it a try—at home.

Before I could even think about welding, I had to figure out exactly what I was doing. So, I rolled the car out, jacked up the front end and prepared to get to work.

 

Great welding and shop advice. Many of the questions will be answered in this next segment.

Picking up where I left off:

Before I could weld anything, I needed to figure out what and where I would be focusing on. The task? Tack these brake tabs to the frame.

In order to do so, I had to determine their location. Too far forward and they would hit the tie rod. Too far back and they would make the hose rub on the wheel at full lock. On a warm San Francisco afternoon, I rolled out the chassis and positioned it on jackstands. Intrigued by the process, my six and 11-year-old neighbors came over to help.

We turned the wheels full-lock left and full-lock right, strategically clamping each hose to the frame with Vise-Grips. By this point, I was ready to weld. The cul-de-sac, however, had other plans.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a warm night in San Francisco. That meant I wasn't the only one outside taking advantage of the weather. Neighbors walked down front steps and opened up garages. Dogs chased tennis balls as kids practiced pitching for their upcoming baseball games. Toddlers waddled as Fleetwood Mac echoed from an upstairs window.

I looked around and decided welding could wait. So it did. For the next hour or so, I worked on tidying up the shop and chatting with friends. Finally, when the sun began to set, people started going inside. It was my chance. I grabbed a flashlight from the hall closet and bounded down the stairs.

I positioned the gun in my hands. I was losing daylight fast. Gloves on. Welding hood down. Pssspsptput. Smoke. Sparks. A poorly aimed tack. Pssssput. More of the same—except this time I had hit my target. Success!

As soon as I did, I heard someone walk up behind me. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" she said, staring at me lying on my back on the driveway. "I don't want to see you get hurt." It was my upstairs neighbor and her daughter. "I'll be okay!" I replied with a smile. When I went to get up, I knocked my flashlight and the light went out. That concluded welding for the night.

 

I have a number of updates from this weekend, but check out what showed up in the mail today!

While I was working on the car, our very own @41 GMC K-18 was working his magic. He captured Version 2.0 in the garage like never before. The closer you look at his drawing, the more you see, from the filled Deuce shell and King Bee lights (a gift from @nickthebandit) to the dropped axle and striped cable covers. I love the textures and all the details. Check out the "GROCERY" sign leaning against the door on the left, the chrome backing plates and the Hudson steering wheel awaiting its turn.

What a treasure. Thank you, Dennis. I can't wait to hang it up!

The H.A.M.B. is an amazing place. I'm so grateful to be here.

 

Dennis, my mom was so happy to hear about the artwork. I’ll be sending her her copy soon!

Lately, I’ve been busy on all fronts. I have, however, worked to return to my original pace of working on the car a little bit each day. Even if that means hunting for parts, studying manuals, or researching the next steps. I’m heading to the East Coast this weekend, but I figure I’ll post a few photos before my flight takes off.
Double-detent prep in my state-of-the-art paint booth.

Side-shift x top-loader combo.

David at work.

That’s all for now. Details to follow!

 

Let’s rewind a little bit back to the welding:

Despite the abrupt ending, I was feeling good about having one tab secured. I clipped on the hose and proceeded to turn the wheels. Not surprisingly, my single tack snapped under pressure. The welder is 110, and I was welding upside down in the dark. "No problem," I said. "I'll try again tomorrow.”

On Monday, I got home from work around 6 p.m. That ultimately gave me 30 minutes before the sun went down. Wasting little time, I threw on my shop clothes and rolled the chassis out in the driveway. Rear wheels chocked. Car on jack stands. Frame surface prepped. Welder on. It was time to make it happen.

Before I could lower my hood, my neighbor Ben came over with his one-year-old son. As we talked, his son danced, played and looked at everything as if it were his first time seeing it. It was all new to him—a new world. He especially liked my motorcycle, with its old chrome and cracked blue paint. The whole scene made my heart happy.

Lying on my back in the driveway, I looked up at the sky. The air was calm. “One day, I’ll have a space where I can really do this right,” I said to Ben.

“You will,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

 

I love that thought. We'll get there!

It's all about making it work. The pool where we used to swim back in Michigan had a gravel parking lot. Not fun to walk across those rocks barefoot in the summertime!