Edward Strange

The current plan is to get her road worthy in my fathers imagined configuration. His paint job is a little rougher than I had hoped, but where the paint has peeled there is smooth primer visible. I'm pretty sure there is virtually no rust on this body or frame. As I get the garage cleared out I will be able to get a better assessment of its current condition. Motor was running when stored. Drive train, frame, and body were all previously restored by him. In theory, a change of fluids, battery, and brake check are all it needs to be moving under its own power. Here is the fun part. The rest of the car is stored in various corners of the garage buried under 50 years of other projects. Apparently the whole care is there except for the bumpers and running boards. Some assembly required. It needs a new wire harness and a complete interior installed. As it turns out the car is a couple parts short of a Jonny Cash song. I't a '33, '36, '39, '53 automobile. It has a Plymouth '53 motor with a '39 3 speed transmission and a '36 floor shifter. Not liking the bench seat, he tossed it out and reupholsterd a pair of bucket seats from a '33 Chevy. The dash is currently cobbled together from a Chevy as well. As I am selling their house, I will be storing the car until I buy a house with a larger garage in the next year. I will have limited wrench time until then. So the first year plan is complete inventory of parts, reconditioning of parts, acquisition of missing parts. If the financial winds favor it, a fresh paint job while it is largely torn down. With any luck it will be mostly an assembly project when it gets to the new garage. The first new part arrives today. It's a replacement tail light lens my father broke somewhere along the line. He doesn't know I decided not to sell the car yet so I had it shipped to him directly. It is the first part I bought and will be the last part I'll have my father install before we take it for the first ride. It may not be 100% complete by then, but who Sunday drives a convertible with the top up anyway.

This 1939 Plymouth convertible has fallen to me to finish a restoration my father started over 50 years ago. It was buried in his garage since before I was born. Growing up the first rule of the garage was don't touch the car. I lived in fear of scratching it whenever I did any work in there. Now I get to play with it and hopefully get it road worthy so I can take him for Sunday rides. This is the first time I've seen the whole car in at least 30 years. She was really buried in there.