John Trybulec documents the speedy transformation of his vehicles.
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The time had come to not… be… together… anymore.
I tried during the last year to reignite the flame but we had to go our separate ways.
So, I put her out in front of the house.
After a bath and 1/2 a bottle of Turtle wax, my 1971 Mustang Convertible was looking her best. Surely the “Acapulco Blue” shiny paint and strong body lines – with the top down – would catch a buyer’s attention in a day or 2.
2 days quickly turned into 37 days.
Too many reality TV shows featuring car/buying/selling negotiating techniques had infiltrated the minds of passerby prospective buyers.
These people walked around my beloved car and made fun of her… to supposedly give me reasons why I should lower the price. Offers lower than the tire tread were made. Negative negotiating comments were abrasive as 80 grit sandpaper.
“The bodywork was cobbled together by an amateur.”
The car was restored by a quality restoration shop with an excellent history.
“You have a remanufactured replacement engine. I want a numbers match engine.”
$50,000 collector cars have a numbers match engine which has the same serial number as the frame and transmission. The ’71 Mustang was a daily driver that was worth about 10 grand. A newly remanufactured engine in this car is a desirable asset, not a liability.
“The convertible top needs a person to put in up and down… manually”.
It’s an old classic car that needs some repair.
The paint has some tiny scratches. The upholstery is slightly worn”
It’s an old classic car that needs some repair.
The 37 days of Mustang-for-sale-out-in-front-of-the-house adventure was irritating and depressing.
I then put 2 ads on the internet and received many calls and emails.
Some offers were so low that I wanted to, but didn’t, use cuss words in my responses.
Finally, an English chap sent an email that wasn’t overly irritating. We then talked politely on the phone and he made a promise.
He would meet me, with the Mustang, at 5:00 P.M. with a fistful of images of dead Presidents.
A real offer was now 6 hours away and hinged on one group of words, “if the car is as described, I will make you a serious offer.”
I looked at the Mustang and decided that the driver’s side seat was leaning about 8 inches incorrectly into the back seat area.
“I’m fixing the seat on the Mustang so I can meet this English guy at 5 this afternoon with a seat that works”, I said to my wife, Linda.
“Can you fix it in time?” she said, half poking fun and half serious.
How could I not fix one seat in 6 hours?
11:05 A.M.
First I unfastened the 4 nuts that held the seat frame to the floor of the Mustang. Easy.
Then I took the seat to my carport/shop/exercise area and gave the seat a through inspection. I pushed on the back support and felt that the back support couldn’t support anything more than 3 small butterflies.
11:30 A.M.
The faux leather was held in place by bull nose rings – about 12 of ‘em. Think of the letter “O” with a slight open area. That slight open area goes over the faux leather and around 12 openings in the frame keeping the fabric and cushion taught with the frame. 2 more bolts connected the seat to the backrest.
12:20 P.M.
After removing the runners that allow the seat to slide from front to back, separating the layers of cushion, springs and fake – I mean faux leather from the steel frame – I saw the problem. 44 years of people, including me, plopping down on the seat, crushed and cracked the metal seat frame in 2 places – about 2 inches from where the backrest meets the lower seat.
1:05 P.M.
First, a 10 minute gobble it down lunch. I then used my handy persuasion devise, a 2 pound hammer, and began coaxing the metal back into a useable shape. The metal had curves and places that had to be aligned before I could use my trusty wire fed welder to make the 2 pieces in contiguous 1 piece.
1:55 P.M.
After a 20 minute lunch I began positioning the metal for welding. Jagged edges, tension that made the metal “do its own thing” and I only having 2 hands made clamping the 2 piece of steel a chore. I had to wait for areas to cool so I could inspect my welding handiwork. A wire brush cleaned the slag. I used all I learned in 5 years of making yard art to make this frame worthy of holding an adult man.
2:35 P.M.
I welded around the left clamp. Added some metal for strength. I took off the clamp and moved to the right side and welded. “I need to really do a thorough job. I wouldn’t want some guy do a repair job that only lasted 45 minutes on something that I just purchased.” I flipped the frame over and welded the back side. After pushing and shoving and sitting on the bare frame, I felt satisfied that my repairs were to the best of my ability and strong enough to hold the weight of a person.
3:50 P.M.
Reassembly of the runners, seat springs, repaired frame, nut and bolts and upper back rest into one working seat was mildly difficult… and amusing. My wife helped using her calmness and rational thinking to guide and participate in the remaking of the 1971 drivers side seat. We work well with each other about 90% of the time and the other 10% of the time is because I would say something senseless. I was calling Linda my “helper” during the reassembly process – which made her give me the evil eye only 1 time.
4:10 P.M.
The clock on the wall was now silently yelling the time at me. I had 50 minutes to bolt the seat into the floor of the car, shower and travel 15 minutes to meet the English chap who might buy my car. I finally found my misplaced bolts and began reattaching the seat to the floor of the Mustang. The area between the floor and seat is tight and I have “meaty hands”. The seat has a spring which fought me until… finally… the last of… 4 nuts and bolts… were mated together.
4:15 P.M.
A quick shower and the final test. The seat sat up straight and looked good. I sat on the seat and leaned back. My welds held. I leaned back with more pressure – my welds continued to hold.
4:42 P.M.
I took the Mustang on what I thought would be our final moments together. Warm memories flooded my brain, but it was time for somebody else to own the car. I was sitting up with my back supported via my own hard work, aided by my wife Linda’s effort.
4:57 P.M.
I arrive 3 minutes early to my “sell the Mustang appointment”. Linda followed me in my 93,000 mile MXK.
5:30 P.M.
After 23 minutes of negotiating, I was given many pictures of dead presidents – less than I wanted, but, the moment had arrived – I let go of the ’71 Mustang.
5:31 P.M.
A bank deposit was made and my wife mentioned that she would go car shopping, if I wanted go car shopping. I was going to get the kind of car I wanted since I was 15 – a Hemi Challenger. Was I available to go shopping? Is water wet? Do bears defecate in the woods? Is the Pope a Catholic? Yes… I was available to go car shopping for a second generation Hemi Challenger.
6:31 P.M.
The first dealership had great people and a few Hemi Challengers, but a deal didn’t happen
7:31 P.M.
We drove to a second Dodge dealer. I saw a row of Hemi Challengers and the red one spoke to me.
8:31 P.M.
The dealership agreed to take the MXK in on trade along with a good sized check, partially from the proceeds of the ’71 Mustang. Papers were signed, license plates were bolted on and a 58 year old man drives away in a dream.
The Next Day – 6:35 A.M.
More Turtle wax.
Photo courtesy of the author.