The beginning

Way, way, way back, when I was 7 years old, I decided that all that was really needed to make my life complete would be to own an antique car. My family thought I was nuts. What 7 year old in his right mind wants a car? What’s wrong with a nice bike? So a bike it was. That still was not very satisfying, so off to visit neighbours that puttered with their cars, and would let me help out, or at least watch. And my Grandfather (Pop) was a great mechanic/inventor/builder/fix-er-upper.

At age 11, one of the neighbours gave me a 1956 Morris Minor with a blown engine. Eureka, a car at last! A few friends pushed this beauty home to my parents garage. How come the rest of the family didn't share my enthusiasm? Maybe it was the fact Dad would have to park his new car out in the cold & snow for the rest of one Winnipeg winter. (Little did he know this was only a small taste of what was to come.) Maybe it was the rust, the torn upholstery, or the bald tires? Anyway, the car could stay if I promised to do all the work without spending any money on it. ( That is another story all by itself.).

The car was put back together by the time age 13 came around , and I sold it to one of my friends older brother who had a drivers license. Wow!! Ten Bucks. Maybe that could be used towards getting a real antique car. The family was getting seriously worried about me. This car thing might not be just some phase I was going through. Professional help might be in order here.

The car

Out at the lake the next summer, some friends and I used to tool around the countryside on Honda 65, 75, or the big cc 90’s that we had ripped the fenders off so they could chew through the clay back roads. As we traveled farther and farther, I started to spot old cars in fields, and beside barns. Later I would go back, check them out and often talk to the owner. Even though many were available, none really appealed to me.

That was all to change. On one of these excursions, nestled next to an old shed, were two large headlights on a bar between two sweeping fenders; behind, a thin chrome radiator outline followed by a long hood.

I had to get a closer look, but that dog sure looks mean. That dog is mean!! I'm outa here. What to do now? A couple of more tries, but that stupid dog is always there. Think I'm going to need some help here. Let’s see, Pop can usually be counted on to support my harebrained schemes. Off to the farm in his car, into the yard with this dog gnashing his teeth at us. Honk the horn until the lady in the house comes out to call off the dog. Is the old car for sale? NO. Can I at least look at it? NO. This is not a good start. Fortunately Pop was very charming with the women, and in a short time I was looking at looking at the grill of a???? Gee, what is this, there is no emblem on the radiator, and I can't make out the emblem in the hub cap. Pop and the lady come over and I get the long story of this 1929 Chrysler.

To make a long story short:

The car had belonged to her son who had been killed in a car accident in 1955. She was keeping it where he had last parked it (which was in good view of her kitchen window), in memory of him. Her husband had also since passed away, and there was no way she was going to let the car go. She had many people wanting it. Well, I wanted it ,too.

We left after a couple of hours, and pop told me he never remembered selling a 1929 roadster from his dealership in Winnipeg, so it must have come from elsewhere. His dealership?? I had never heard about that before. This was going to be interesting. I found out more of my Grandfathers history that afternoon, than I had heard in the previous 14 years. Not only that, Pop was hooked, too. We were going to get that car.

We made a couple of more visits, Pop would have coffee, and I would sit in, poke at, look under, and just generally admire the car. I didn't care that it had been painted with red barn paint, had Ford wheels & diff. on the rear, had a fire in the interior, mice living in the remains of the upholstery & trunk, and that the whole back of the car had severe wrinkles. It had great fenders, a radiator shell, and great lights. These where what attracted me to the car in the first place.

After one of the visits Pop said "Give Mrs. Pasaluko $100". and we can tow the car home on the weekend.

Really??? The car was going to be mine. I was ecstatic!

Getting the prize home

I would say ecstatic was not the reaction I got from the rest of the family, or friends. I think it was more of "we support your decision because you are family, and that you are nuts, and need our help."

Anyway, plans had to be made to get this great prize home. When Dad arrived for the weekend, we arranged to pick up the car the next morning. This was more exciting than Christmas!!

We arrived at the farm early the next morning, Dad got his first look at this Beauty. Although he had his doubts, I think he could see the potential. We loaded all the parts that had been taken off, or fallen off in the trailer, threw 50 feet of rope off the back of the trailer to the front bumper of the Chrysler and gave it a short pull out onto the driveway. The brakes did not work , but the hand brake was one of those contracting type around the drum on the drive shaft. That should do the trick, and if I really had to I could jam it into any gear and let the clutch out. It would definitely stop. The engine was seized. After all, we only had to go about 15 miles, 3 of them on the highway. It was a memorable trip, the tires were seriously out of round, the steering extremely loose, and the right front brake dragging so badly that smoke was coming out from under that fender after half a mile. Let the brake cool down, and this time seemed to be free. At least the car didn't seem to want to continuously head into the ditch now. It was great , wind through my hair, bugs in my eyes & teeth. ( The windshield fell off at about the 10 mile mark). Almost there, but still the section of Highway 12. Well , there is this long hill on the highway just before the turnoff for the cottage. We are only doing 20 MPH at the top ( the speedo did work erratically). The hand brake seems to work okay. Unfortunately, after the first heavy application, it is smoking badly, and definitely not as effective. We are only a quarter way down the hill, and now at 30 MPH. I think Dad can tell there is a problem, as there is only 20 feet between the trailer & the Chrysler. He speeds up, the rope snaps, and he pulls off onto the shoulder. I zoom by, holding on for dear life, and as the road levels before the turn off, pull the hand brake as hard as I can . The rear tires are actually screeching. Surprising enough, I didn't need a change of underwear. Reconnect the tow line and finish the tow into the cottage. This should be the happy ending to this chapter, BUT, when we arrived in the driveway at the cottage (:also downhill) the hand brake would not work at all, and I plowed into the back of the trailer. Crushed both lights, and rumpled both fenders.

The good news was that it turned out these were the wrong lights for the car anyway.

Something isn't right here

The car is home so lets get serious. Find all the information possible, and of course get it running. Pop still knew people at Chrysler, (like the president) so after a few phone calls, we had some very interesting information from the archives department. The car was a special edition model 65- 5window Rumble Seat Coupe, of very limited production in Canada. This body style was produced in substantial numbers in the United States. Wait a minute, doesn't a coupe have a hard top??? This is a convertible. Upon further inspection, we could see the roof, doors , and even the body hinges for the upper door sections had been carefully cut off and filed to shape. The trunk lid was missing so I had no idea that this car had a rumble seat instead of a trunk , but I think the steps up the right rear fender should have given me a hint. Well, I wanted to restore the car properly, so where is the rest of the car. Back to the farm to search some more. We wandered out into the fields and to my surprise actually found the remains of the roof, & about 50 feet further away found the rumble seat deck lid (although somewhat flattened from the cows walking on it).

As we were dragging these remains back I thought I spotted some rusting metal along the fence line behind the old shed. Better check that out as well. Pay dirt!!! The rusting metal was the original differential with the wooden wheels still attached. It looked like an antique car was to be in my future after all, even if it wasn't the same model I started with.

It Runs

The best part about having a car is to drive it, however this one didn't currently move. And if it did move, wouldn't be capable of stopping. We will worry about stopping later, lets see if we can get it to run. The major problem here is that the engine is seized. Well, Pop had a solution to this . First pull the plugs, and pour as much of a combination of Cassitte oil & Diesel fuel as the cylinders will hold. Plugs back in. Jack the front end up as high as possible, Drop the pan, and clean every thing out well. Spray the solution that we put in the cylinders everywhere. Put a huge wrench on the front of the crank shaft, and a equally large pry bar on one of the crank journals in the crank case. Each day apply as much pressure as you can on the crank in each direction. Not much fun, but on the 5th day, "Yes", I’m sure I feel a little movement. Each day for a week it moved some more. Pull the plugs out, and try again. Success!! A stream of fluid spewed from the plug holes, and the engine could be completely turned over. Now more boring stuff. Pan back on, fill with oil, more oil in the cylinders, and turn it over 20 times 2 or 3 times a day for a few days. The big day was here, so borrow a battery from a buddy’s Volkswagen, throw some gas on the Vacuum fuel tank. It turns over, but nothing. Oh, Yeah, put the spark plug leads back on. Tried again, and it fires right up. Fortunately it was mosquito season, so the neighbours just thought we were fogging. Man, did it smoke. It was also my grandparents 65th wedding anniversary party, so we had quite a crowd looking on in disbelief when this rusty old wreck came to life.

The restoration process

For the next 3 years every spare dollar, and every spare minute went into the car. It was definitely a restoration on a budget. The engine and transmission were just cleaned up, the differential seemed fine once the wheels and brakes were pried off, most of the wood spokes in the wheels were good ,so only replaced two spokes with definite dry rot. The wood body framing was in terrible shape, so most was replaced, dents hammered out, chassis wire brushed & painted . The front end required new king pins & bushings. The brake cylinders were in terrible shape, and no amount of honing could clean them up. Eventually better used cylinders were found, and used until the 90’s when new cylinders were located. All the glass was replaced with safety glass. Missing parts were scrounged from across the continent. Original headlights were found in Parksville, B.C.. Steering wheel in Kalispell, Montana . A perfect original winged rad cap at a Chrysler dealer in L.A. This was from the first car delivered to the dealership in 1929, and had been kept in a display case ever since. After much negotiating, it could be had for $100, and he would pay shipping. He promised to carefully pack, and insure. Of course it arrived with both wings snapped off, and wasn't insured. But they sure were beautiful wings. And hundreds of small parts out of a closed section of a wrecking yard called Princess Auto in Winnipeg. There was no way I could afford a professional body job, so that was tackled after practicing on a Datsun SPL610 Roadster. By now enough was done that the car could be driven.

I was 18. Maybe it’s time for a road trip???

You are going where???

"Yes Mom , I’m going to drive the car to Banff!!!" My whole life I seem to get these looks of disbelief.

"But its not finished!!!!" "You don't need an interior to drive it, and those orange cushions from the couch fit great on the platform I built." A whole group from the local vintage car club were driving West with a group coming through on a cross Canada tour. How much trouble could you get in? "And I'm taking Bill with me." "What!!!!" Bill was my 11 year old brother, and he really wanted to come. Mom & Dad finally decided this was actually a good idea, and the trip was a GO. I had the oldest car from the local group but there were several of similar vintage in the cross country group. And it would do 50 MPH with a good tailwind & downhill.

The trip was staged in a series of short runs of about 200 miles each day, so we would arrive in Calgary in 5 days. The first day out was uneventful , and we arrived in a small camp ground near the Saskatchewan border about 2:00 p.m. The temperatures were over 100° F. and the cars were definitely feeling it. We left extra early the next day, to try to beat the heat, but by 10:00 a.m. the car was seriously overheating. Took the louvered side covers off the engine and strapped them to the running boards. That helped somewhat, but temperature was still running way up there. Outside temperature was 105° F. & felt like 2000° inside the car. Shortly after passing through Regina, power dropped considerably, then the engine just stopped. I coasted to the shoulder, and there we sat. The cars were quite separated by now as they were all experiencing heat related problems. A couple of the cars stopped , and it was agreed that if I didn't make it into the Moose Jaw campground by 10:00 p.m., they would send back help. The engine was completely seized. There was lots of oil so I assumed that it was probably a pistons & rings problem. I allowed the engine to cool down totally( which takes a long time in that weather). Then took off the head, and poured some oil in each cylinder. I found a piece of 2X4 in the ditch, and with my trusty 60 ounce hammer proceeded to systematically pound each cylinder. By now I had the attention of the RCMP, who didn't really want me parked on the side of the highway doing repairs. One particular officer checked on me periodically, and even brought some soft drinks out for Bill & me. They were the best drinks I have ever had. Eventually the pistons broke loose, and I put the head back on. It fired right up, but power & speed was way down. Smoke poured out. (In the rest of the trip we used 16 quarts of oil) At least with all that oil ,it was unlikely we would get a seizure again. The RCMP followed us on the shoulder for the next 20 miles with there lights flashing. We made quite an entrance to the campground.

Many of the other cars had experienced a very different heat problem. The wood spokes were shrinking, and allowing movement on the rim. Most people had the rims soaking in the stream to swell them up. It was a problem that never affected us, as Pop had insisted that I soak all my wheels in a vat of heated linseed oil for about a week.

The engine ran better as time went on and eventually it would cruise comfortably at about 45 MPH. We were able to participate in all the events in Calgary, and Banff. And with all the exhaust smoke ,we never had any mosquito problems. The trip back to Winnipeg was done in 3 days.

Finishing the car

The engine needed a complete rebuild, which was accomplished the following winter, the interior was completed, and miscellaneous maintenance items carried out.

The car has run faithfully to this day, although I have never put it through so arduous a journey again. In 1998 the rumble seat was finally upholstered. The left front fender carries battle scars from a hit from a 1990 Ford Tempo. Damage to Chrysler $380.00, Damage to Tempo $2,350.00.

The car still brings smiles from all who ride in it, and waves from all those it goes by.



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