Roadification Begins

It's been a couple of weeks, but Ariel's dad finally came out and worked on me. He checked out the condition of my rear brakes; the shoes could use replacing, but the rest of the system back there is fine. He then disassembled my rear wheel bearing assemblies and thoroughly cleaned and repacked the bearings with synthetic grease.

According to Ariel's dad, roadification is the process of replacing and repairing just enough parts to get an old car safe and reliable. That's what they'll be doing to me. That's fine because that means I'll be back on the road sooner, rather than later.

They're discovering some of my history. For instance, a lot of my trim is from a 1964 model. I wasn't built with wheel-well trim, and 1964 was the only year of early model Corvairs that had that chrome. My differential is from 1964. He can tell that because my differential's got the '64-only accommodation for a transverse leaf spring. I've got two different axles. I don't remember why, but at some point one was replaced.

Moving Day

It's been a couple of weeks, but today's the day I go to my new home. Ariel, her dad, and her grandfather arrive with a tow dolly. I'm pushed out of my carport and onto the dolly. Ariel's dad checks my transmission fluid level, attaches the safety chains, and tightens the straps that hold my wheels to the dolly. Then we're on our way. It only takes about a half hour to get to my new home. I'm unloaded, and the first thing Ariel does is give me a much-needed bath. Here I am, shiny again. I do look sharp with my chrome trim and wire wheel covers.

As I'm drying off, Ariel's dad returns with a surprise. He'd also bought the sibling of mine that my previous owner had. I wait patiently while Ariel's youngest sister gives that car, a red '63 Corvair coupe, its bath.

After that car is moved into the garage, I get pushed in next to her.

I Run

It's a beautiful day. The sun's shining and I've just been visited again. The guy that took the pictures the other night has returned and he's brought two girls with him. The older one checks me out and seems real excited. When the guy, who turns out to be her dad, asks her, "Ariel, what do you think," she replies, "I like it." The next thing I know Ariel's dad has installed a battery and she's turning my key. My engine spins a bit until gas flows into my carburetors and then I'm running. I sound good through my dual glasspack mufflers. There's a problem with one of my carburetors, so I don't idle well, but Ariel's dad says he can fix that. Ariel shuts me off and I hear her dad telling my owner, "We'll be buying it to restore together. A father-daughter project. When we're done, the car will be hers" How exciting, I'm getting a new owner.

A New Owner?

I've been sitting in this carport for over a year and a half and the most exciting thing that's happened to me is a squirrel dying on the ground underneath me. It's just past dusk, and I hear the sound of a car in the driveway. Like a hundred other disappointing times, I know that I'll be ignored again. Suddenly, the gate opens and headlights are shining on my dusty rear. Footsteps approach, my driver's door opens, and a flashlight shines on my bright red interior. I look so dusty and smell so musty. Hopefully this guy can see past that.

I've run out of patience with my current owner. I'm sure he's busy with other stuff, but I certainly hate being ignored for so long. So maybe I'll be sold again. This time to someone who's going to get me back on the road.

This guy opens my engine and trunk lids, takes a bunch of pictures, closes everything up, and leaves.