The Local Source for News and Information Since 1980
I saw a post on social media recently where someone was nervous about making a one-hour drive; after all, their vehicle was a 2019. Downright scary, indeed, to be forced to drive such an old car! The newest rig in my drive is a decade beyond that, but most of my miles lately are behind the wheel of a 75-year-old Chrysler. One thing I have in common with that online poster: as a human, I’m never satisfied. They want a newer model, and in the meantime, I went out last summer and purchased a sedan built when Calvin Coolidge was in the White House.
The string of vintage cars joins a wide array of ancient gear that I’ve acquired, often to my wife’s chagrin. At the root, I suppose, is a desire to tinker, which is an actual a love of learning. I find great pleasure in researching each machine: where was it built, what was its place in the market, and what made it tick? As the automobiles in my garage have grown older, they have also become easier to work on, naturally. In the 2020’s cars have become all but zero maintenance, but in the 1920’s they needed nearly the same amount of attention as the horse they had replaced.
It has been my goal to resurrect this 1928 Nash entirely on my own; among other things I was able to change the tires myself, using only hand tools. One detail (which some may find boring) caused some delay. Between the steel rim and the inner tube is placed a protective flap, to prevent chafing and cutting. Generally, this will be of rubber but within two of these old tires (last changed in the early fifties) the flap was of a heavy cotton material. The drawback? It absorbs moisture, thus promoting rust. This made dismounting and remounting the tires a real challenge. By the time I had reached the spare I had taken a much needed break that lasted several months! Finally, knowing I could put it off no longer, I set to work on getting that last tire in place. It actually came together well at the end. I grabbed my airline, started pumping it up...and found I had a leak! Well!
I would like to take a bow, telling you about the fantastic attitude that overcame me at this moment. The truth is, I actually DID have a rather positive feel, but I can take no credit. No, it must have been something from above. I’m really not such an elevated human!
I knew I would “get” to tear the tire down again, then wrestle it back together. In between, what would I find? Had I somehow ruined that brand new inner tube? You can’t just run up to the corner filling station these days and grab ‘em, especially not for such an antique. There was a calm swelling over me, though. Actually, more than that: joy! I praised God.
The tire came loose easier than it went on. Quite a bit easier. The tube slipped out; finding the puncture was easy-peasy. I knew right away it would be the perfect candidate for a patch, an operation I’d never performed. And this excited me! You see, once every schoolboy knew how to repair an inner tube. The little kits were easy to find. There’s a decent chance that, if you waltz through Dusty Finds or Denton Station, you might find such a kit dating back to the twenties or thirties. Yet, in this modern world, I’d driven hundreds of thousands of miles never needing this basic skill. Until now!
A year or so ago I was nursing back to life another of my nutty projects, a 60-year-old snow blower, and had picked up a patch kit at the hardware store...in vain, as the tire was well beyond what it could do. Ha! I thought I was making the purchase for that Snow Bird when I was actually getting it for a car I didn’t, back then, even knew existed. But somebody knew. I followed the simple instructions and in no time, all was all right, if not with the world, at least with my inner tube.
It practically fell back together, that tire and rim. 24 hours later and, whaddya know? It still holds air! Thank you, God!
As many do, I often battle depression. I was a bit glum when I walked out to the garage that day but a couple hours later, I was grinning and thanking God. Challenge into praise. Remember earlier I talked about the root cause of why I work on these old devices? I think now, perhaps, it’s not about learning skills after all. It’s about putting me in touch with Him. Oh, you should have been there the day I removed the head from the engine, readying for a valve job. Any of those umpteen bolts could have snapped, but with each one (since nobody was watching!) I danced and I sang, and I praised God! I didn’t get that head off without a single broken bolt; He did. And now, another simple lesson with some rubber and steel, that left me better than before. Because of Him. Thank you, God!
