Thanks for the Help

[John Simion]

In October 2014 I bought my car “Murphy” off eBay — that was Mistake #1, although I doubt I knew enough at the time to recognize the problems that would be coming.  I spent the next 26 months either restoring the car myself or having it sit for months at a mechanic.

I have previously mentioned my first mechanic, who was incompetent and cheated me horribly.  Almost all of his work had to be redone.  My upholsterer cheated me; took money and never completed the work before going out of business.  The painter didn’t exactly cheat me but he overcharged me for the quality of work.  The plating company overcharged and did a poor job; the second plater slopped through the job and it had to be redone a third time.  Only my second mechanic was competent and honest.  Thanks to his work, I finally got the car finished and licensed last October.  He also referred me to a decent upholsterer who finished off the first guy’s work and corrected a lot of the sloppiness.

In another post this morning I described my problems with door and hood fit on this FiberFab kit.  It’s incredibly poor.  As a result, I finally had to reconcile myself to the fact that my car was never going to show the perfection I expected for the time and money I wasted on it.  Nevertheless, it looked beautiful to anyone who didn’t look too closely.

I’ve also previously described here how the incompetent mechanic had my spark plug wires reversed, so I had a persistent “miss” that he covered up by setting the idle speed so high that it wasn’t very noticeable.  I’ve also recently described here my persistent problems with the howling brakes.  I am sorry I have vented so often to this forum; I just needed someone to vent to other than my wife, whose response over and over was simply, “Get rid of that car, it’s nothing but trouble.”

After multiple trips to the new mechanic — including three trips alone for the howling brakes — finally the car seemed to be running great.  I finally had an answer to my wife’s pressure for me to sell the car.  On Christmas Eve we had nice sunny weather here in Las Vegas, so I decided it was time to get out and kindle my love for my car.  I started it; it ran great although the idle seemed really fast, which I assumed was due to the weather being in the 50s and that it would slow down once it warmed up.  Sooooo … off I went on a little drive.  My car ran wonderfully for five miles, then stopped and thereafter would not run more than 10 seconds; even touching the accelerator killed it.

AAA towed me home; I rented a U-Haul to take it to the mechanic after Christmas.  The mechanic found (a) something had come off in the fuel pump (not broken, just off the track); (b) there was a vacuum leak where the first mechanic hadn’t properly tightened down the carburetor and it was actually leaking fuel at the manifold; and (c) there was dirt in the (new) carburetor notwithstanding two new fuel filters and all new fuel lines.  Anyway, he got it running fine.  On the 20-mile trip back home, the brakes started howling again … not too bad, but that’s exactly how it started last time.

Thanks to all of you who have tried your best to help me, but I have to recognize that as much as I like antique cars, antique cars don’t like me.  I’m not enough of a mechanic to fix this stuff, I have no friends here with mechanical skill to help, and I have so many other things going on that I don’t have time to keep messing with this.  Constantly being frustrated and tossing money into a bottomless pit just isn’t fun.  I’m doing now what I should have done two years ago, and that’s to get rid of this mess.  I’m thinking of getting a brand-new motorcycle with a full warranty to replace it.  At least the motorcycle would be fun and reliable.

I’ve already shipped my MG to Gateway Classic Cars for consignment.  It should be listed on their web site for sale shortly.  I don’t know what they’re going to ask for it but they think based on my pictures that it should sell well.  I don’t really care that much what I get back out of it, I just want out.

[edward ericson]

Dang. John, yours is just about the saddest TDr story I’ve yet heard. Sorry for your troubles, and hope you recoup at least most of your money spent.

[billnparts]

Sorry for your loss. I understand and hope you enjoy the bike.

Bill Ascheman
Fiberfab Ford
Modified 5.0, 5sp., 4:11
Autocross & Hillclimb
"Drive Happy"

[newkitman]

I understand your frustrationJohn. I’ve been building/asembling my kit since 2102 and although I’m now almost there I thought of tossing in the towel a number of times. I wish you the best of luck in selling the TDr and hope you get enough to offset the purchase of the new bike. Best of luck in the future and don’t forget…you can drop in and visit us anytime.

Allen Caron
VW based 53MGTD - "MoneyPenny"
"If one thing matters, everything matters" - from the book The Shack

[John Simion]

Well, I did learn a lot of things out of this:

1.  Don’t trust a mechanic unless you know what questions to ask and get references from real people who’ve used him to do the same work.  What goes on in dealerships and most repair facilities is “parts replacement.”  The older vehicles require a true mechanic, and those are hard to find.  You can’t trust Yelp or Angie’s List for things of this nature.  What you’re getting are reviews by people who got an oil change or parts replacement, which have no bearing on the kind of work needed on a TDR.  My first mechanic — the incompetent asshole who cheated me so much — has good reviews on Yelp.  If all I needed was an oil change, he’d probably be okay.  The second mechanic I used was pretty good, but my friend in Missouri who’s a mechanic himself found the guy for me — because he knew what questions to ask.
2. Know yourself.  I didn’t.  I imagined myself as Walter Mitty, the brilliant mechanic who was going to restore a prize-winning car.  In reality I am a retired lawyer with no mechanical training.  My real expertise today is in reading s*** on the internet.  Realistically that is all I have time for anyway, since my hands are full with a wife’s honey-do list of home improvement projects, a house filled with electronics and equipment that seems to break every time I turn around, and three other modern cars to maintain.
3. Don’t expect perfection.  I am a perfectionist.  A perfectionist should NEVER own a TDR.  Ever.  These cars cannot be made perfect no matter what you do.  My experience with the doors and hood on my replica proves that.  I could work on them a hundred times and spend $10K in repaints and those doors and the hood would never fit right — because FiberFab didn’t make them right in the first place.
4. Buy your TDR for love, not money.  Not only do TDRs not “appreciate” in value, you can easily spend just as much restoring one as you could buying a 99 point “real TD” off Hemmings.  I’m losing several shirts and a couple of pairs of pants selling my car now because I ignored my personality and exaggerated my abilities.  It might have been different if I could have done the work myself.  Having someone else do the work for you when you don’t know what you’re doing leaves you at the mercy of unscrupulous persons every step of the way.  Also, having tools in your shop does not mean you have the time or expertise to use them.
5. Restoring a built car is the height of stupidity.   I was saddled from the beginning with the mistakes of the DPO (“Dreaded Previous Owner”).  The DPO is a joke that is no joke.  This guy that originally built my car in 1999 obviously had some skill but he also slopped through a number of areas that conflicted with the perfectionist in me (see #3).  I actually think I have enough skill to have assembled the body myself from a kit and done a better job; instead I spent hours and hours trying to fix his mistakes.  Mechanically speaking, I would have been FAR better off to have bought one of those completely rebuilt VW pans you can buy on the internet, together with a completely rebuilt high-performance engine and high-performance transmission.  In hindsight, I could have done all that and had my second mechanic put it all together.  I would have had a better car for half the money.  Of course, hindsight is always 20-20.
6. Safety of the TDR is questionable.  I built seats with built-in headrests and put in seat belts.  I was not able to find anything solid enough to mount shoulder belts.  Without shoulder belts, I would slam into the dashboard in a head-on collision and probably be killed even with the lap belt.  Then there’s the gas tank that’s almost directly above your lap and separated by a smidgen of highly flammable fiberglass, and the lack of side rails if hit from the side.  My second mechanic kept referring to my car as a deathtrap and I really think he’s not far off.  I thought it would be safer than a motorcycle but the more I think about it, the more I think that’s wrong.  Modern motorcycles have ABS and stability control to avoid accidents, and you’re presumably wearing a helmet, boots, and armor in your jacket in case you get in one anyway.  Back when I had my 1930 Ford Model A in high school, I figured it was safe because it sat up so high and went so slow that nobody could miss seeing it.  That’s not true with a TDR.
7. If you’re 6′-4″, you might fit in a TDR but you’ll look like a clown.  It’s difficult to accept, but I’m just not designed to fit in really small cars.  I spent all that time lowering my TDR seat and cranking it back, and I still can barely get in.  Then, when I looked at my pictures of me in it, I thought, “Man, I am way too big for this car.”  I suggest the following rule of thumb for big guys who want a TDR:  If you can’t fit in a Miata, you can’t fit in a TDR.  I can’t fit in a Miata.  I don’t know why I ever thought I’d fit in a TDR.

• This reply was modified 7 years, 3 months ago by John Simion.
• This reply was modified 7 years, 3 months ago by John Simion.

[edward ericson]

Can’t argue with any of those observations or advice.

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