Hello, everyone.
Am in a rather awkward stage in the restoration of TS 58667, the '59 TR3A
project I took on exactly two years ago, when I traveled from New Hampshire to
just north of New York City to pick up a car that had sat in a shed since 1975
and, in the interim, had become the fecal focus of a gang of racoons. It is
forever etched in my memory, the experience of breaking loose the brake drums
when every movement brought a fresh up-puffing of racoon dung-dust. When I
finally winched it out of the shed through the mud and past a '49 MG, and
jockeyed it by a Sunbeam, and used the come-along to get it to the point where
my 4WD Tacoma could get traction to tow it to dry land, then at last trailered
it home, it was necessary to pressure wash the racoon detritus before the
final 8 miles home.
...So, it's been two years. The frame is done. The engine rebuilt. The OD
transmission procured. The suspension done. The guages cleaned. The seats
rebuilt. The heater, steering wheel, wiper assembly, etc., etc., etc.,
disassembled and rebuilt. ...And yes, I looked at my pitted upper fulcrum
pins and replaced them after some internal debate.
And now, not only is the front half of the body at the body shop with a guy
who loves cars, but last week I trailered the frame/running gear there so the
body can be made a part of the project again.
So, the awkward stage: I don't have a lot to do this summer. Instead of
working on a TR3A, I'm in my New Hampshire back 30 acres cutting firewood for
next year. What does this mean? ...That I hope I didn't do a very good job
of restoration, so I can have something to fix in future years?
Good lord. Is this a virus, or am I permanently schizoid?
Terry Smith, who has never driven a TR3A, but has dreamed of and loved this
car for 2 years anyway. Is that sick or what?
New Hampshire
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