Fellow fiends:
I wish to report on a new disease (one, at least, that I have not yet heard
described on the net). It can be considered an opportunistic infection that
occurs in people suffering from Shipwright's disease. I have toiled over a
suitable name for this disease (after all, it can hardly be credible if it
doesn't have a name), but I have failed to come up with anything either
memorable or appropriate. I leave this to some more clever than I.
On to the symptoms:
As I say, I think it is an opportunistic infection that occurs in people
suffering from bad cases of shipwright's disease. The basic symptoms are
that approximately 2/3 of the way through a complete restoration (with the
rebuild engine off to one side, the finished shell on jack stands, the new
bright work, glass, hydraulics and electrics mounted on the car) the owner
of said car experiences a virtually completely debilitating weakness that
prevents him from finishing the restoration. He is relegated to the back
porch on hot summer evenings sipping iced tea (or some such stimulant),
brooding about when the h**l the d**n car will be done and why can't some
angel of mercy just sprinkle some magic dust on it and bingo: cool restored
car ready to bomb around in!!!??? Spouces report that he spends long hours
staring into space or aimlessly paging through parts catalogs. Really bad
cases have been know to cry (inapporpriately) at car shows and to drool over
the inside pages of Hemmings. Saturday mornings he rearranges his box
wrenches and then leaves for a hair cut. Sunday night finds the car no
closer to completion than it was the previous morning. Spouse worries, but
silently.
Of course the great tragedy here is that in fact a few more hard working
weekends and the d**n thing really would be pretty near done and our victim
could really bomb around in his cool restored car. Friends even offer to
help! New and refurbished parts litter the basement floor. People walk
daintily past to get to the washing machine.
I suspect that the severity of this affliction is in direct proportion to
the ratio of new parts to refurbished ones. Perhaps there is an element of
simple shock here: new parts tend to cost money.
I am not clear on what the cure is. One could attempt a cold turkey
treatment of total restoration immersion: starting at, say, 6:00 AM on
Saturday, with a scalding hot cup of coffee and several powdered donuts (Ah,
donuts!). The alternative is a lingering slow death to summer followed by
moribund storage during the winter followed by hope and prayer that with the
coming spring somehow we have all forgotten our past weaknesses and are
willing to give the thing another shot.
I for one plan the total immersion approach this coming weekend (or didn't
you know that I suffer from this horrible affliction!) I will report on its
outcome sometime next week (If I am able).
Will "Is this Glaubner's disease?" Zehring
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