Amateur Car Restorations Done Badly
The indelible thinker and author, G.K. Chesterton, wrote “”If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” While you may think Chesterton was thinking of nobler endeavors than playing with cars, you’d be mistaken; Chesterton clarified that he was writing, “…in defense of hobbies and amateurs and general duffers…”
I’ve come to realize that I do things badly.
Shortly after reading the above quote I drove my son to Cars and Coffee on a brisk Saturday Morning, the event being a 10 mile highway trip from my home. On the way there I nervously watched the poorly aligned wheels shake the steering wheel, as the car stuttered at certain RPM bands. These things had never bothered me until that morning with precious cargo on board. The thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to walk down the highway with my five-year-old, if we broke down. I’d never cared enough to consider the possibility before.
Now, you might think that these considerations are typical to old car ownership. They are not. My car shook because I haven’t taken the time to align the wheels after the body was placed on them, and the engine stumbles because I haven’t checked the plugs or timing since the first day I fired it. These symptoms are because I’m doing the hobby badly.
But still, there I was, at Cars and Coffee, with my son, cruising-in with a 1957 MGA, blasting rockabilly music, after 15 minutes blaring down the highway. We were having fun together.
Chesterton was right, although my efforts were done badly, we were still enjoying the fruits of my labor.
In the Cars and Coffee parking lot, I realized the driver’s side of my car sits lower than the passenger’s side. I’ve since verified this with a tape measure. I have no idea why. I’m doing badly.
My recent projects have included adding a convertible soft-top and a heater. I will dare to say that I did these things well. There were a few dozen curse words as I stretched the convertible top over its frame, but the end result has been quite nice. Several of my kiddos and I have taken 20-minute drives in the dead of winter and haven’t been cold.
I had grand visions of having the side windows and windshield wipers installed too, but some over-used quote regarding mice and men springs to mind.
Did I mention the car looks rough too?
When I look at the MGA, I must constantly remind myself of two things:
1. I made the choice to quit hammering out the dents when my neighbor was complaining about the hammering sound,
2. And, there’s not a drop of Bondo on the car (why I have pride in this, I don’t know… I just don’t like the stuff).
I might despair, but I don’t think I could do any better. I added up my receipts tonight, and to-date, I have spent $16,000 dollars on the car. It doesn’t need any more parts. From here on out, the costs should be limited to maintenance and repair.
So I jumped on Hemmings, that veritable purveyor of fine automobiles, and looked at all the cars I could have bought with $15,000-$18,000, pretending I might have saved that money to purchase outright instead. There wasn’t anything that impressed that was listed for sale. A rough summary includes Model Ts and As, several Dusters and some ratty Triumph TR3s. I’d rather have my MGA. I came out ahead, even doing it badly.
But this test of self-awareness led me to consider what both of my vehicles, combined, might have brought me.
I dug out the receipts for the Lotus 7 I built. Curiously, they add up to almost exactly $16,000.
I think I’ve discovered that a cheap amateur restoration, where all the work is done by the owner, ends up costing about $15k. The cost of a restoration done badly is just cheaper than a brand-new Nissan Versa. I can live with this.
But, with the money in both cars added together, I would have had $32k dollars to buy a car outright, if I would have saved (in this scenario, I’d be getting my first “fun” car at forty).
What options would Hemmings show me for $30k-$35k?!
While $32k sounds like a lot, it turns out it’s not that impressive in the classic car market. My choices seem to be a number of base model cars, including Chevelles and Camaros, a decent full-convertible early Blazer, a Porsche Boxster, some clean (but not special) Corvettes, a handful of MGs, more Triumphs… and that’s about it.
Oh, and a micro-car, but that’s just silly. Who’s buying those at those prices?
So, if I would have practiced delayed gratification, I could now be buying a base model “performance” car at 40. Instead, I bought my first “fun” car in 2010 (a MGB for $1,500). I went through a MGA Coupe and a BMW M3. I now own a 1957 MGA and a (fake) Lotus 7. Also, if I had saved instead, I would have missed out on 13 years of adventures (and some friendships, I think).
On average, with $32,000 now invested, I’ve spent $2,500 per year on this hobby. More, when you add in registration and insurance. Is the enjoyment I get out of it worth that investment?
I think so, but I wouldn’t die on that battlefield.
In comparison, if someone spent $7 a day at Starbucks, it would also add up to $2555 per year.
The car hobby certainly has nice moments. For example, today one of my kiddos wasn’t having the best day, so I took her for a 20-minute backroad cruise in the 1957 MGA, while listening to Elvis and Chuck Berry. Ironically, we almost hit some robins while listening to “Rockin Robin.” The drive brightened her day, and that’s certainly a nice thing.
Chesterton was a wise man, it seems. I agree, things worth doing are worth doing badly. With that in mind, I’ll end with another hard-hitting Chesterton quote I recently read:
“Never perhaps since the beginning of the world has there been an age that had less right to use the word “progress” than we. In the Catholic twelfth century, in the philosophic eighteenth century, the direction may have been a good or a bad one, men may have differed more or less about how far they went, and in what direction, but about the direction they did in the main agree, and consequently they had the genuine sensation of progress. But it is precisely about the direction that we disagree. Whether the future excellence lies in more law or less law, in more liberty or less liberty; whether property will be finally concentrated or finally cut up; whether sexual passion will reach its sanest in an almost virgin intellectualism or in a full animal freedom; whether we should love everybody with Tolstoy, or spare nobody with Nietszche; — these are the things about which we are actually fighting most. It is not merely true that the age which has settled least what is progress is this “progressive” age. It is, moreover, true that the people who have settled least what is progress are the most “progressive” people in it. The ordinary mass, the men who have never troubled about progress, might be trusted perhaps to progress.”
