'55 Chevy: Everything Old is New Again

A ’55 Chevy Convertible delivers years of memories

Owner: David L. Peterson, Valparaiso, IN

Wichita, 1967

One day in May of 1967, my parents surprised us by bringing home a green & white 1955 Chevy convertible. I didn’t know how or where they found it, or whom they bought it from, and I certainly wasn’t asked for my opinion beforehand. I was of driving age, and my siblings weren’t far behind. Since my folks owned a ’65 Pontiac Bonneville, this old Chevy was for us “kids”.

The odometer showed over 56,000 miles and the ragtop was a mess. There were numerous dents and dings and some visible rusty and poorly repaired places on the body, but at least it ran and most of the accessories were intact and worked. This car fit the description of a “beater” in the vernacular of the day. Our folks decided to buy a new black top, which would be the only significant money they put into this car. The Chevy was so unremarkable that no one in our family had ever taken a photo of it.

I have some fleeting memories of how it was to drive. Torn seats would be covered with a blanket. A damp, musty smell that was no doubt caused by too many times caught in a rainstorm with the top down. Windshield wipers that seemed to work only when they wanted to, which was rarely in the rain. It looked like a crab going down the road (dog-walking?) with the rear end about a foot to the right of the front, and the transmission slipped on most sharp left turns. It would also suck down a quart of oil every 500 to 1000 miles. However, all its shortcomings were forgotten on the warm Kansas summer nights cruising Douglas, the main drag, with the top down. (Thanks mom, for searching for a convertible.)

I would go away to college in the fall, but I had first dibs on the car during summers and any vacations that I might be home. My next brother would drive it to school as would my sister, the last sibling to drive the Chevy. By 1971, our folks needed to temporarily relocate but decided to keep the house in Wichita. Apparently our father drove the car into the garage and blocked up the wheels in 1971– the date on the license plate I removed in 2006.

Wichita, 2006

My parents had both passed away, and my siblings and I had moved out of the Wichita area. We all came back to the family home to clean out the old place, disperse possessions, and take care of final business. My siblings decided that I should have the old Chevy if I wanted it. As I looked over this car in our folks’ garage with cat paw prints in the dust that had collected for 35 years, I started entertaining the notion to somehow fix up the old beater and give it a second spin in life. I’ve never been a “car guy”, I really only considered cars as “transportation”. How hard could it be to fix this old thing up?

Indiana, 2006

At the end of 2006, I shipped the car home to Indiana. I had already begun doing some basic research–read a book or two on car restoration, visited swap meets, car shows, and talked with restoration people trying to decide what to do next. I would patiently explain to every prospective restorer that I only wanted a “nice driver” and that the car would never go to a car show. It was during this time that I began getting hints that the investment in time and money might be more significant than I’d hoped. I was also cautioned that it’s not practical to rebuild a car to a “driver” condition when virtually all pieces need attention or replacement. How do you apply a ten-year-old paint job?

I decided to restore the car to original from the ground up. However, changes to ensure reliable and safe driving would have to be made.

I had met Howard Dobuck at a swap meet 6 months before and had learned that he had sold parts for Tri-5 Chevys for many years and had restored hundreds of such cars, but only for himself. I contacted Howard again and, fortunately, he decided that rebuilding my car would be fun. Plus his brother, Dennis, was available to do all the body and paint work, and–most importantly–I was welcome to do all the grunt work I could manage.  The car and I went to Howard’s Koontz Lake shop in April, 2007, and left for the glass/interior/top shop in January, 2009, and ultimately to my house in March of 2009.

Dismantling was done very carefully. We only had to break a handful of stubborn bolts and accidentally snapped the capillary tube connecting to the engine temperature sensor. Howard alerted me to watch for paint markings made by people on the assembly line–it was fun recreating them later. The paper tags we found attached to the rear seat springs are still there.

As we rebuilt the car, in addition to tiring of endless degreasing, scraping, blasting, and sanding, I was repeatedly faced with the choice of whether to repair an original part or replace with a reproduction. Although it was sometimes cheaper or easier to replace, I usually opted to stick with the original to the greatest degree possible.

Since I wanted a safe car, all fluid tubing and hoses, wiring, brake parts (except drums), most nuts & bolts and seals were installed new. To improve handling, I opted to use radial tires, gas shocks, and installed a new, correct-appearing front sway bar.

Did I do some geeky things? How about dragging a 1955 set of 5-leaf springs to the home of a retired metallurgist to be dye-penetrant tested for fatigue cracking? Or buying four different makes of “Regal Turquoise” paint so Dennis could spray out large samples for me to show to various folks for opinions (the richness of lacquer won out hands down over the 3 basecoats).

I eventually graduated beyond simple grunt work. I got pretty good at spray painting without leaving too many runs the first time. I rebuilt the fuel pump, steering box, as well as a 1955 water pump and windshield washer pump. Amazingly they all work.

TODAY

Someone once said the journey is half the fun. It’s been more than half the fun in my case. There is fun in searching for correct parts. Or the fun in cleaning grime off the old windshield washer hoses only to find 4 brass ties holding them together. The fun in meeting interesting people with their own stories, being helpful at every turn. The fun of finding “old-timers” who remember working on these cars in their youth. The fun of calling different experts only to hear conflicting versions of originality; but, I’ve decided that they are all correct because fifty years ago the cars often were built with whatever parts were available at the time. Would I rebuild another one? Of course not–I only drove one car in high school.

There is this beautiful looking car in our garage starting to get a little dusty. The odometer is at 77,950 (we didn’t turn it back), which means that I’ve driven it for about 1300 miles. Most of that came from shaking it down and tuning it before driving it to the CCI show in 2009. And if our 12 year old son should happen to ask in a few years, I still don’t want that car going to any prom.