Therein Lies the Rub

What do I think about when I think about my old Wildcat? What does my wife Lydia probably think about when she thinks about my old car? Probably something red, shiny, lots of chrome inside and out, two doors, bumpers, an interior inside the car. You know, the images an average person would conjure up only having seen the car in old photos. How much could it have changed?

My father and I decide on a time and meet at the current owner's house and we see the car. She's nowhere close to what I remember, although the lines are still there. The passenger side door is missing, there are huge holes in the floor, the interior gutted.

We managed to locate what seems to be the entire interior of the car in Glenn's shop and loaded it into the back of the pickup. I laid all the bendable trim inside the car, put the windows up front with me to keep them safe. I know that the last thing I want to have to buy is glass.

With all the parts loaded, the car was heaved onto the roll back and we watched it leave. I was hoping, for he current owner's sake, that once it left their wooden gate it would be out of eyesight as it's always painful watching a cared for car leave. No such luck, as the wrecker turned onto the road, the Wildcat rode the rollback just above the fence, in full view, until it met the wood line.

On the way home I read the receipts he had kept. It was apparent it was driving when parked as he had just spent $1000 in suspension parts and $400 in brake work. Not something someone does on a car that isn't a driver. With a handful of dusty receipts, an igloo cooler full of old chrome parts, and a truck bed full of things that should be inside the car, one thought kept coming to me; "Lydia is going to friggin kill me."

We arrive home and the car has already been dropped off. We look it over, excited but amazed at the amount of work that is going to have to be done. While the body is straight and rust free, the interior is absolutely gutted and I've got no clue how it all attaches back. Sure, I've got an idea where most parts go, but as far as what exact screws, what bolts, what clips I need... who the heck knows. One door is severely rotted, so it was removed to be repaired, but wasnt finished. The headliner looks like loose skin hanging from the ceiling. There's some sort of rodent crap (much too large to be a rat) on the dash, there are holes in the floorboards large enough to drop a child through. The window rubber is gone, the trunk has been cut out of the.... trunk.. (does it still qualify to be called a trunk?), the seats are moldy, everything is covered in a green mildewy powder.

We take the seat and hit it with the pressure washer. It does a decent job in removing the loose debris from the seat and I'm greeted with the ivory pleather I once knew. Then, Lydia showed up and judging by the look on her face, she doesn't really share my enthusiasm for the task ahead of me. I'm not going to say she's changed her tune necessarily, but she's thrown her hands up at the situation and for a married man, that's as good as you can ask for.


Next up, I better start making what can look pretty, look pretty.