Yahoo Autos Elana Scherr: Project Cars
From the July/August issue of Car and Driver.
At the moment of this writing, the 1972 Jensen Interceptor that had me convinced I was under a family curse [March/April 2024 issue] is not only running and driving, but it's doing so with working turn signals, lights, and power windows, as well as an eight-track player blasting Dolly Parton's greatest hits. No fires have been reported—the only smoke came from an overly enthusiastic clutch dump while leaving an intersection. The Interceptor also took first place in my local Chrysler show's Mopar Related category. Granted, it was the sole entrant in that category, as the only other Jensen owner had to leave his car at home. Because it wouldn't start.
I bring you this update because so many of you wrote in after the Jensen column to share your own family memories and stories of ownership, and that was very encouraging during the dark days of rewiring. Jensen imported fewer than a thousand Series III Interceptors to the U.S., and according to your letters, they were all purchased by Car and Driver readers or their uncles. My compliments and sympathies to you all.
Now that the Jensen is running, you might imagine that my husband and I are resting happily, waiting for our busted knuckles to scar over. That would be wise, but we aren’t (resting or wise). It's on to the next project, since while we were making the Jensen better, the rest of our cars were all making themselves worse. I find project cars to be quite a bit like puppies: Left unattended, they shred things and make puddles.
A 1981 Pontiac Trans Am Minus an Anti-Roll Bar
Somehow, I broke the rear anti-roll bar on my 1981 Trans Am. A fellow Pontiacker on Instagram asked whether I had gone up a driveway at a slight angle. I had, and at a perfectly normal single-digit speed, but apparently '80s-era GM cars were not designed for such brazen stunt driving. I need a new bar. I could also use some new decals since the rain seems to have put out the flames on my firebirds. They're all curled up like overcooked Shrinky Dinks. On the plus side, that beast with its nonintercooled, carbureted 302-cubic-inch V-8 is still running; it even passed California emissions testing.
An Opel GT with Running Water
Speaking of California, Los Angeles has gotten more rainfall than Seattle so far this year. As a result, my nasturtiums are going gangbusters, and I now know which of my cars have window-seal leaks. Answer: all of them, but the Opel GT has one that's so bad it's more like an indoor water feature. That car needs a windshield seal and possibly new carpet. It could also use a paint job, since its current one is so oxidized that running a hand over the fender leaves your fingers more orange than a road-trip bag of Cheetos.
Have I mentioned that we burned a valve on the 1915 Dodge? Surprisingly, you can still get parts for a 1915 Dodge. Unsurprisingly, not through the internet. Instead, you call a number, and on the other end a person who sounds like they might have been around for the launch of the 1915 Dodge takes your information and tells you they'll send some valves when they remember where they put them. I'm pretty sure those came in, so I'll get right on that—once I remember where I put them.
A Smoking '70 Dodge Challenger
I've also decided that it's time to bring my 1970 Dodge Challenger out of retirement. I parked it a few years ago with a blue-smoking tailpipe and suspicious bubbling paint on the roof. I hoped both would magically disappear, but it's still smoking, and the clear-coat is peeling like a postvacation sunburn. That car has needed a roof the whole time I've owned it; the original was peppered with tiny rust holes of the sort that happen even in California when a car spends too much time parked next to a neighbor's sprinkler. I filled them the first time I restored it, but now, 20 years later, I want to do it right. Luckily, new roof skins for the Challenger are available on the internet. Unluckily, shipping a roof panel doubles the cost of a roof panel.
A Squirrelly '69 Plymouth Wagon
I should really sell something to offset the cost of fixing other things, but it's easy to fall into a trap there as well. I could sell the '69 Plymouth station wagon housing squirrels in the backyard, but a quick check of collector-car prices suggests that cars full of squirrels bring less on average than cars with carburetors that aren't stuffed with acorns. And while I'm addressing that, wouldn't this car look great and bring some serious dollars with a new interior, a paint job, and a manual swap? If any of your uncles have Plymouth station wagons, send them my way. I've got a to-do list for them.
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