Projects Building My First Roadster in San Francisco

That's right! I'm enjoying every step of the way.

Thank you! I'm looking forward to that day.

Amen to that. Thank you so much for coming along for the ride.

Nothing beats recycling neat old parts!

 

Thank you! It's amazing how one day's great idea is another day's blunder. Glad to be trending in the right direction.

 

As soon as my battery tray showed up, I had to mock it up. It's absolutely perfect. Dennis does exemplary work. I plan to drill a single hole in the K-member tomorrow to finish up the install. More updates happening soon!

 

I had many updates that I planned to post on my flight, but the wifi was down and no writing could be done. That said, here's how it sits. Notice anything different?
(Don't worry, the painted King Bees are in reserve until the whole car is one color again—soon!)

 

Last Sunday, I made my way up to Petaluma for the V8 club swap meet. Per usual, it was a great time hanging out with David, Justin, and the whole North Bay gang.

The scene at the front gate is worth the price of admission.

No shortage of traditional equipment for sale. No subrails on this '30 roadster, but it looked like a fairly solid start for someone.

Cad-LaSalle, anyone?
This wagon was the ideal swap meet hauler. Love the trim.

 

I didn't really plan to buy anything, although I did say, "If I can find a hood or any old upholstery for a decent price, I'll probably buy." Well, next thing I knew, I had found an old paint 1930 Model A hood for $20 and a bench seat for $10.
I planned to reupholster my minivan seat with the red and black, although I'm now realizing the red may be too bright to match my survivor tuck'n roll. The old chrome backing plates will clean up nicely. Maybe they'll be for sale? Maybe for a future project? We shall see.

 

The swap was a blast, but the true joy of Sunday came after the fact when David and I headed back to the shop. "Would you like to go for a spin in Sean's roadster?" he asked. I couldn't say yes fast enough. Over the past few years, I've watched David build this car from the ground up—frame, body, everything.

The build quality is immaculate, and it brought a huge smile to my face to be cruising the back streets of Petaluma in such an incredible A-V8. With its Mandarin Maroon paint, 2x2-fed flathead, and big-n-little blackwalls, the car looks like it rolled right of a Don Montgomery book. I couldn't be more excited for David and Sean.

 

I have a flight back to the West Coast this afternoon. If the wifi is workin', then it'll be time for a long-overdue update.

In the meantime, here's some East Coast inspiration.

 

Responses and replies to come, but I'm up in the air and the wifi is somewhat working. Let's jump right in.

Before I left town, I got my fuel line in order with the correct hose clamp orientation. Looking at the weekend ahead, I planned my next move.

 

Last Saturday morning, my plan was a straightforward one: pack for my trip, head to Pacific Heights Hardware—per @51504bat's recommendation—and then work on the car. But on the way back from my morning hike at Land's End, something caught my eye: an estate sale. Taking my time, I parked the truck and strolled over on foot.

Like many SF sales, the journey started on the ground floor. My eyes widened as I entered the cavernous space, studying the wood paneled walls, 10-foot ceilings, and what seems like miles of square footage for parking. "Man, I can't imagine what I would build if I had this much room," I said to myself.

The owner, Kerry, soon noticed my sense of wonder and struck up a conversation. His parents bought the house in 1961, and much of it has remained unchanged since then. I eyed the workbench where a brown pegboard sagged from 60 years of duty. Fasteners filled coffee cans and a tattered piece of paper stuck to a belt-driven bandsaw said "$75.00. No reasonable offer refused."

"My father worked in the San Francisco shipyards in the 1940s," Kerry told me as I sifted through a can of wing nuts. "He was a really resourceful guy. He could do it all. The things in this workshop got us through a whole lot." I nodded.

From the workshop, I made my way into the back room and was greeted by an unexpected occupant.

"Did you paint that?" I asked Kerry. "I did not," he replied. "It was there when we moved in." I thought he looked a little Von Dutch-esque, so I snapped a photo.

Before we parted ways, I made an offer on this old toolbox filled with hardware. The story goes that the collection started in the 1950s, and I have no reason not to believe it. After paying my $7 cash, I latched it shut and cradled it in my arms. "Better hold on to it tight," Kerry said. "Because I don't want you playing 52 pickup on your way home!"

 

Meanwhile, at Pacific Heights Hardware, everything was 50% off. I could tell that it was a special place, from the cat that greeted me near the cabinet pulls to the items that look like they've been on the shelf for longer than I've been alive.
Of all the items I picked up, I was most excited about my wing nuts that I found in a Tupperware tub of miscellaneous nuts and bolts.

Yes, they're metric, but they're absolutely perfect. I just need longer bolts.

$3.70 apiece may seem pricey, but they were half off, and I'm happy to put some bread back in Pac Heights Hardware's pocket. I bought a few extra, too. Note that the header caps are aluminum and will be polished to a mirror-like finish.

 

On Friday night after dinner, I removed the grille shell and brought it in the living room. Our new Khruangbin album played on vinyl. I pulled out some tape and ads and got to work.
It was a little bit tough to paint over this survivor metallic blue, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

 

Saturday afternoon was spent fitting the shell to the Johnson's radiator.

Unfortunately, pretty much nothing lined up.

The bottom mounting points were so far off that I decided to make little tabs for them...
...out of a Model A front spring clamp.

Secured using era-correct hardware from the estate sale.