5 years and counting
Preserving American history...using an Italian masterpiece
To make a childhood dream come true, it takes massive amounts of time, patience, ingenuity and sometimes -- a motorcycle.
In the spring on 2014, the Ducati 999 that I had ridden regularly for eight years (one that I also raced, crashed and rebuilt to show quality), was on the block and I was downsizing. During this sad quest for a "park & ride level" auto as a replacement, I did the "car guy" opposite and performed a search for what I really wanted - a 1964 Ford Thunderbird Convertible. Since the early 1990's, this stunning ride was high on my list of goals but was seemingly always out of reach. I couldn't believe my luck when the listing for this car popped up with, "will look at trades". Serendipity!
The car was located just a scant one hundred miles away from our home near Seattle, so I made the call and set off on the adventure. When I arrived at the seller's place, the definition of "project car" became quite clear. It had been sitting outside under an awning, along with a number of other project classics. The interior was mostly gutted, the non-functioning top was rotted away and it hadn't been started in six months. It had a clear title, but no previous owner history beyond the seller was obtained. The frame-stamped VIN numbers all matched the door plate VIN showing a birthday of November 15th (assuming 1963), when the car was delivered to the Los Angeles sales office.
A mechanic at some point had installed a new fuel pump, sparkplugs and replaced the points. The tires and drum brake linings were new-ish but the remaining components were either in place and completely inoperable or tossed loose into the disheveled interior. By inoperable, I mean these parts looked like they were brought up from a shipwreck! No brake lights, although that didn't matter since the brakes gave out on the way to the inspection (where it failed the majority of the other inspection points). Everything leaked and was worn out. Glancing back at my gleaming and faithful (albeit, branded title) Ducati, I had to wonder if this was in fact a trade-down?
It included other fine accoutrements such as critter nests, a large toothy skull (maybe a cat or raccoon?) and had rust in all the quarters and front floor pans from years likely spent outside in fields. The retractable top mechanisms were half missing or disconnected; a stick was used to prop up the heavy deck lid. Fortunately, the trunk pan had a coating of some sort of bed liner, so it hadn't rotted away yet. Despite all of these issues and uncertainties, it was a rare opportunity and I decided I needed this project. I felt I could work with what was there, one piece at a time, to bring it back into shape. We installed a battery and remarkably after the its long nap, the T-Bird roared back to life once again!
I was motivated to learn this car through and through. It had most of its original parts including the FE 390 engine (the good, non-export version), the standard Cruise-O-Matic transmission and a 3.00 ratio axle. I didn't mind the leaky parts, because they were original. I truly wanted to save this iconic vehicle that had one foot in the scrap yard (although I'm fairly certain it had both feet in at one time or another). With a little cash over trade, the seller agreed to deliver it to my garage that afternoon on his flatbed. Diving into the unknown and peeling back the layers of history was thrilling!
Someone had rescued this car before me, completing an amateur restoration circa 1970's. It had only one (and very thorough) silver paint job above the factory color along with some pin striping. The lettering on the hood was shaved off and it had an aftermarket top. The back of the deck lid had gray carpet adhered to it (which later only made rust removal more challenging). The junkyard theory comes from finding that some areas of the car came from a blue 1964 donor T-Bird. This included the hood, both front seats, the center console, radio covers and a few minor odds and ends (hood bumpers for example). The windshield had been replaced. The hood cowl and fender skirts were from a yellow car. The visors were from a white interior. When I stripped the car to bare metal, it revealed that it was hit on the passenger side and had rather extensive body work previously performed on the passenger door and quarter panel -- most likely the reason it was scrapped early in its life. It also still had evidence of shattered glass residing in the bottom of the door. At some point after this owner gave it up, I believe it was back in a yard again. Chalk numbers on the underside of the hood indicated this. To top it off, someone tried to pry into the trunk not knowing to release the jackscrew receivers from underneath which resulted in a nice crowbar-sized dent behind the package tray. Despite all of these challenges in front of me, however, underneath the dead silver paint lay a bit of a treasure...
...this is an original "L-code" Thunderbird, which means it is one of only a handful of Thunderbirds that were painted in a very rare color called 'Samoan Coral'. Ford produced 9,198 convertibles in 1964 and this was the ONLY year Ford produced this exact color. That being said, I've always envisioned the formal, crisp lines of this car best suited in a deep black. With its expansive metal panels, creased beltline and elegant flairs that run the length of the sides, it catches light in a way that increases heart rate. Dressed in black it also shares some resemblance to its eccentric cousin, the 1955 Lincoln Futura -- aka the 1966 Batmobile. My kids can cash in on the Samoan Coral code after I'm long gone!
A couple of dog-eared and oil covered shop manuals later, in the end not only was this build incredibly rewarding, the amount of knowledge gained through rebuilding virtually every part of this car was like having another college education! Take a look around -- I've added quite a few before and after photos as well as my complete restoration log (see Flight Recorder section), that documents every mile of the flight.
Enjoy!