Securing a spot for vintage vehicles in a warehouse seemed like a cost-effective solution, yet the drawbacks were significant. The remote location, an hour's drive away, made spontaneous visits impossible. Coordinating with the property owner for access, navigating around obstructive RVs and trailers, and the absence of power sources compounded the inconvenience. A particularly wet summer had even led to a battle with mildew, prompting a rigorous desiccant regimen.
With the onset of winter, the cars, cocooned in their storage space, awaited their caretaker's return. The anticipation of reawakening these slumbering beauties was tinged with the certainty of maintenance needs, yet nothing could have prepared for the near-mutiny that ensued.
The '74 Lotus Europa, affectionately dubbed 'Lolita', had been resting in the warehouse since the previous autumn. Despite the hurdles of registration and the longing to bring her home, the first order of business was a thorough inspection. The lack of power in the warehouse meant that the usual battery maintenance routines were not an option, leading to creative solutions and the hope that the vehicles would spring to life after their hibernation.
While Lolita's engine hummed to life, a routine check revealed a more sinister issue. A flashlight's beam caught the glint of a liquid pooling beneath the car. A swipe of a paper towel confirmed the worst - gasoline. The discovery brought all plans to a screeching halt, as the risk of fire loomed large without a fire extinguisher on hand.
Without electricity, the simple act of keeping a car's battery charged becomes a complex affair. The practice of rotating a single good battery among the vehicles or bringing them home for the winter was no longer feasible due to physical constraints. Instead, disconnecting the negative cables had become the norm, with the hope that the cars would awaken after a few months of rest. However, as time stretched on, the likelihood of complications grew.
Despite these challenges, the Lotus's engine roared to life with relative ease. A drive back home would typically suffice to recharge the battery, but with the extended period of inactivity, the certainty of this routine was cast into doubt.
The fuel leak presented a daunting obstacle. The culprit: two plastic plugs in the carburetors, a common issue with British and Swedish vehicles equipped with Stromberg carburetors. A quick online search offered a simple fix - replacing the O-rings. Yet, the fragility of decades-old components turned a straightforward repair into a setback when a plastic prong snapped off in hand.
With the Lotus immobilized, attention shifted to the remaining fleet. Yet, the specter of the fuel leak loomed, a reminder of the delicate balance between the joy of classic car ownership and the vigilance it demands.
'Sharkie', the '79 BMW Euro 635CSi, greeted with a more cooperative spirit, its engine starting without protest. However, the handbrake lever betrayed a hidden flaw, its ratchet refusing to engage. The discovery of a broken anchoring bracket spelled certain failure at inspection, necessitating a swift return home for repairs.
Armed with a pop-riveter, the broken bracket was swiftly reattached, restoring the handbrake's functionality. The satisfaction of a successful fix was compounded by the relief of passing inspection, a testament to the resourcefulness and resilience required in the stewardship of these mechanical relics.
The quest for replacement plugs for the Stromberg carburetors became an odyssey through online vendors. Calls to suppliers revealed a frustrating pattern of scarcity, with each inquiry leading to the same disappointing revelation - out of stock. The journey up the cost curve ended with a purchase from a reputable source, albeit at a premium. Sometimes, the pursuit of preservation demands a willingness to 'pay the man'.
With new plugs and a fire extinguisher in hand, the return to the warehouse marked a victory over the Lotus's earlier defeat. The successful installation of the new components banished the fuel leak, clearing the path for inspection.
The inspection station presented a new set of challenges, with the Lotus's idiosyncrasies eliciting skepticism from the inspector. A detailed briefing on the car's peculiarities, from the unconventional horn button to the delicate wiper stalks, was met with reluctance. Yet, a shared understanding of the quirks of low-slung sports cars, like Corvettes, eventually led to a successful inspection, culminating in a triumphant, legal drive across state lines.
The joy of this moment was a bright spot in the often arduous journey of classic car ownership, a reminder of why the passion persists despite the trials.
'Louie', the '72 BMW 2002tii, presented a perplexing puzzle - a nearly empty brake fluid reservoir with no visible signs of leakage. The enigma of the disappearing fluid had occurred before, with no resolution in sight. A temporary fix allowed for a successful inspection, but the mystery remained, a silent specter waiting to be unraveled.
The recurring issue underscored a harsh truth: automotive ailments seldom resolve themselves, and the quest for answers is often a marathon, not a sprint.
'Bertha', the '75 BMW 2002, echoed Louie's brake fluid dilemma, albeit with a twist pointing to the clutch hydraulics. The car's infrequent excursions had left the battery lifeless, a stark reminder of the importance of regular use and maintenance. The decision to postpone further investigation was a strategic choice, prioritizing immediate needs over long-term solutions.
The inspector's growing familiarity eased the process, allowing for a smooth inspection despite Bertha's temperamental performance. The prospect of a future journey on a transporter loomed, a potential solution to the car's reluctance to run smoothly.
The '73 BMW Bavaria's battery was the most depleted of all, its voltage too low to even attempt a start. The absence of the usual tools and supplies compounded the frustration, leading to a shift in focus to the essential task of moisture control. The meticulous process of replacing the desiccant in each car was a tangible reminder of the ongoing battle against the elements.
As the day waned, the Bavaria's inspection and the Lotus's journey home were deferred, a decision shaped by practicality and the unpredictable nature of traffic. The contemplation of the reasons for enduring these challenges was a meditation on the essence of classic car ownership - a labor of love, fraught with frustration but fueled by an unwavering passion.
Rob Siegel's latest literary offering, 'The Best Of The Hack Mechanic: 35 years of hacks, kluges, and assorted automotive mayhem', is available for the avid reader on Amazon. His complete collection of works can be found there as well, or for those seeking a personal touch, signed copies can be ordered directly from his website, www.robsiegel.com. For more engaging automotive content, be sure to visit the Hagerty Media homepage, bookmark it for easy access, and subscribe to the newsletters for stories delivered straight to your inbox.