Projects What Drives Us (Not What Do We Drive)

At almost 80 years old I sometimes catch myself pulling up and asking “Why am I doing this?” Continuing to chase some foggy Valhalla of hot rod holiness. Living in a dream that has no end, except when death comes.

When I allow myself to look back at my meager start at this seemingly unattainable goal, I have to honestly ask myself, “Why?”

Why did I start reading and hoarding all of those little pages car mags, and model cars?
Why did I buy that first old Model A coupe that was destined to be sold off from a lack of progress?
Why, with a new family responsibility and zero money, would I drag home a POS coupe shell that got traded off for a pickup body?
Why, with that new family, would I buy an Austin Healey 3000 with barely enough room for a kid? That VW was good enough.
Why did I haunt swap meets looking for cheap junk, and go to car meets with no car?
Why did I finally buy a finished, running 40 Ford sedan with a family member’s benevolence when I lacked the funds?
Then there was the 36 cabriolet, followed by the 33 coupe!
There was room for that 56 Chevy parts hauler pickup, so why not. A great deal!
Why did I sell that nice 40 in the quest of the almost impossible dream of a real roadster?

Too many projects, languishing due to a lack of funds and or the skills required to finish them.
Sell something, buy something.
Some new, disguised temptress with imagined promises. Living in some rust influenced dream land that they would get on the road someday. Refusing to turn loose of any of those hoped for dreams, for years.
Keeping cars instead of funds to settle the crisis of a long marriage ending.

Retirement from a corporate career, and a long distance move with a new spouse, made it a little easier to face reality.
But building that retirement dream shop just made it easier to fill the beckoning empty square footage. A Model A pickup was pieced together, “just to drive to town”. Then it got traded for the ultimate hauler, a 40.
Like a hound chasing a pork chop pulled on a string,
Then the 56 pickup got sold to buy and build a 32 sedan, one that was a beater but went down the road. But another temporary pleasure, whose body was traded off for a 32 Brookville roadster when the roadster fever relapsed. Relapsed because the one faithful HotrodA roadster was sold off after 30 years of life together. Soon to be replaced by another 40, this time a coupe. It was/is a vicious cycle.

So here I am today, another long distance move completed just to be closer to family, facing building a shop addition, and unpacking boxes filled with years of ac***ulation. Even after selling and s****ping tons. Why?

Is it an addiction? Is it a mental abnormality that few others understand? Is it some inherited gene from a long gone forefather who was a millwright and blacksmith, years before cars were even thought of? Is it just a weakness and a refuge to run to in order to escape the burdens in life? Is it enjoying a sense of pride and accomplishment when that part or objective is finally finished to the best of your ability. Yes to all of these.

Is it fueled and perpetuated by the like minded folks on this daily adventure called the HAMB? Yes, thankfully.

If you can answer yes, or even comprehend any or all of this, welcome to my world.
Thanks for the 23 years of refuge and for fueling the p***ion.

 

I admire your at***ude…although at 73 I’ve done the opposite this year. I’ve sold our home and property, only keeping two cars and most of my tools and equipment. But extending my shop is out of the question now. Not that I wouldn’t like it but I just don’t want to go through the construction effort.
Anymore. Just give me a running old ford and a boat with plenty of fishing gear and I’m happy.

 

An addiction/obsession? Yes. A refuge from the world at large? Oh, Hell yes. And it’s the mechanism through which one can feel a sense of accomplishment each and every day with or without an abundance of money.
Will it ever get finished or even running? Will it be sold and replaced with another one? Who cares? It’s often worth it to just close the door, sit down and simply enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by essence of old cars, old parts and old tools. But to walk out and close the door after accomplishing something is personal and very satisfying. I hope it never stops.
So, yes, you have company in your thoughts…..

 

Addiction or obsession are not strong enough words, I can't articulate what it means to me. All I can say is that it's life, shelter and focus.

I'll never get tired of the sound of rain hitting the roof of my panel as a drive without traffic to pick some parts.

 

I'm pushing 82, working on old '''stuff" gives me a reason to get up out of the chair and go do something. I guess I've see. a few folks retire and sit...and they are dead in a year or two. Although during the Studebaker build and this Unibody F100 there are times I have asked my self "WHY"???

I am luckier than some folks in that my wife doesn't balk on dollars spent on old iron but she is in the shop shaping metal into works of art, far more artistic than I but it's working. She knows that I don't handle sitting around and if I croak there is no one to keep all of the shop equipment running

 

P***ion drives me. Old cars are not a hobby for me they are a p***ion.

 

It's just who I am.I don't drink alcohol,smoke cigarettes or weed.It's my p***ion and addiction!And I love it!!

 

For me, it was just the idea of having fun with cars. I became hooked ( addicted that is) when I was 10 years old and after 43 years of enjoying cars I haven’t stopped.

 

Just face it. We aren't as smart as we should be even though we are old enough to know better.

 

I can't work out what you're whining about. Sounds to me like you've been living the life of Riley.......