It had all started, innocently enough, during a weekend excursion to a gathering of the extended family. However, due to the nature of the get-together, my husband Ken and I were left with a little too much time on our hands between events. So, as usual, we purchased the local “Auto Trader” magazine and sat down to leaf through it, while enjoying a cup of coffee.
After a little browsing we found a car we both liked. To our surprise it was in reasonable running order and came with a parts car. Naturally, it was just a dream because we really had no intention of buying anything. Besides that, it was out of the question; it was located forty miles away and we were to return to the next family event within a short while. We had to admit that in fact we just liked the thrill of the hunt and the prospect of future potential.
However, the next day, we once again found ourselves with some additional time on our hands. At that point we thought it might be fun to take a little drive ‘just to have a look’. After all, it was only forty miles. What harm could there possibly be? Right? We convinced ourselves that we were not going to buy; we were just going to look.
Well as it turned out, it was a little like entering the local Starbucks in the morning, in search of that incredible first cup of fresh coffee. Who could resist it, and really, why would you go there just to look? So of course, we couldn’t resist the attraction of a new undertaking either. Therefore, we soon found ourselves going to the bank and making plans for a return trip to pick up our two new cars. What a thrill! A new experience of driving a British ragtop awaited us!
However, it was actually during that trip home with our new prize that I found myself somewhat taken aback by my introduction to the pleasures of British sports car driving. My husband drove our mini van and I myself was given the first opportunity to drive our new acquisition. It wasn’t exactly the thrill that I had initially been led to believe it would be. It happened to be raining that day and I found that the quantity of water which dripped on my head seemed to be directly proportional to the intensity of the rain which fell outside. I could not remember my husband ever having informed me of the possibility of such an event occurring while driving a ragtop. Nor could I remember him telling me how inconvenient and uncomfortable it would be to have to open the window and stick my arm out into the pouring rain every time I had to signal during the three hour drive home, for it also turned out that there was a problem with the electrical system.
Regardless, we had a new British project car, a 1974 Triumph Spitfire. How sweet it was! My husband informed me that we would just drive it as it was for the first summer and that it would provide an infinite number of hours of entertainment with perhaps just a little bit of work. I was relatively easy to convince because in my books it rated high on the cute scale. In addition, I was quite anxious to experience a more positive side of sports car driving than that of my initial trip home.
We spent many hours driving about with rather foolish looking grins upon our faces as we enjoyed the British sports car experience. It didn’t take me too long before I began to more fully understand what that experience truly was. Yes, the top did leak a bit, the paint was definitely oxidized, the gas tank contained some rust, and the rats nest called a wiring harness was an absolute nightmare to remedy but it was fun and it was ours. We were officially British sports car owners. Of course we did not let the fact, that on a road trip to visit the family we had to make more frequent stops to check the oil level than we did to check the fuel level, prevent us from having a fun time. In fact, once all of that was taken into consideration, that summer experience was a delight.
It may truly be said that time flies when one is having a good time. For we found that 'one' summer of temporary repair jobs actually became 'several' summers. We decided we should carefully plan what we were going to do to our little prize, which by now we had lovingly named Buttercup. We didn’t want to make any serious mistakes and we did have to consider the financial aspect as well. Somehow those thoughts translated into, “Let’s look for a different car that we can practice on. Then we’ll sell it and complete the Spitfire”.
Yes, believe it or not we were on the hunt again. Eventually we found a 1979 MG Midget, only three years after the purchase of the Triumph, and we were off on yet another project. This one was not nearly as scary, for this was the ‘practice’ car. We then proceeded to spend the next three summers (weather providing, for we had no garage in which to work) restoring the Midget. By this time we had convinced ourselves that it would be foolish to sell the product of such hard work and so many long hours. Its status had changed from the ‘practice’ car to, Junebug. How could one even consider the thought of selling something with its very own name?
It took my husband a number of years before he decided that it was time to begin the Spitfire’s restoration and time to part with the beloved Junebug. However, once that was accomplished he was anxious to start on the Triumph, which by now was definitely worse for wear. It was time to restore the temporarily forgotten Buttercup to her original splendor of 1974. Ken further insisted that the work which awaited us would be well worth our while as this was actually the better of the two projects.
From past experience, I knew that those words translated into, what was sure to be, many hours of blood, sweat, and tears. All of which would relate to a painfully tedious list of what to do, how to do it, when to do it, who should do it, what works, what doesn’t work, and on and on. The general break down of work tasks finally amounted to something like this: Ken would do all the mechanical, the electrical, the body work, and the paint priming; I would find the parts, do the ordering, check the weather reports for our outdoor work area, and keep the records; our friends, Reg and Elaine, would be approached to do the final paint job, as that seemed to be a bit out of our combined range of expertise.
If all went according to plan, a nuts and bolts restoration of the Triumph was to be completed within two years. However, in the interim, Ken experienced a heart attack. As a result, it actually took three years and a slight adjustment to the original list of responsibilities. For the remainder of the project I was promoted from desk jockey to assistant grease monkey and we continued working very closely together in an attempt to complete our British sports car.
The Spitfire’s wiring problems had been numerous when we originally obtained the vehicle but most of them had been regulated during that initial summer of driving the car. That meant that the first order of events was to work on the transmission. This would be followed by the engine, and finally the body work.
We discovered that the transmission from the donor car was in much better condition than that of our project car. However, it still required minor repairs. As a result we replaced a bearing, inserted a shift lever kit, two thrust washers, a rear seal, a needle bearing on the input shaft and it was ready to go.
Ken then dismantled the engine only to discover that the cylinders were worn. This meant they had to be rebored and oversized pistons had to be used. Next, the crankshaft was reground and new rod bearings and main bearings were fitted. A new camshaft and lifters were then installed along with new valves and valve guides. Finally a new timing chain and a new oil pump concluded this phase.
The next step was the body work. This stage of the restoration was most certainly a new and major learning experience for both of us. After close examination, it was determined that the body was straight and that there was very little rust that couldn’t just be sanded out. However, the sill on the driver’s side was not reparable so a new one was welded in. This then brought us to the final leg of the body work, which was the sanding of the entire car. The undertaking was not so much difficult as it was tedious, for with the exception of an airboard, the job was mostly done by hand - and mostly done by Ken.
At this time I was grateful to return to my desk job for a while, where I was more in my element. I continued the search of the internet and other sources for a few more items that would lend the finishing touches to our project. For example, I hunted for a new zip-out soft top, a limited edition chrome luggage rack, trim rims, British flag decals, gear shift boot etc. In addition the seats had to be sent out to recover, and a new emergency boot had to be made to match. The carpets had been replaced before we purchased the car and were still like new, so we left them. However, the carpeting in the trunk had to be changed. Some of the finishing chrome was in excellent condition but a few small pieces were taken from the donor car.
The final phase of our venture was the painting. Ken did the primer himself, but he found the idea of actually painting the car somewhat daunting. Therefore, we had to turn to two very good friends, Reg and Elaine, for the final chore of painting. They were an extremely knowledgeable and efficient team, and so another task was completed in short order.
We were starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and it was invigorating. There only remained to reattach all previously removed parts, to install the new top and the luggage rack, and to complete the detailing. Before we realized it was all back together.
We stood motionless and stared at the finished product that had occupied us for three years. We could hardly believe our eyes. Our persistence had indeed paid off…Buttercup was back… and she wasn’t just older, she was definitely better. At this point, it certainly wasn’t whether our sports car was the fastest or even the prettiest that mattered to us. What mattered was that we had done it together and most of the time we had had fun!
For the next few months, our biggest decisions were about whose turn it was to drive and where we would go next. Of course, the little yellow Spitfire made it to some car shows and club events but mostly that was to give us a reason to drive through the countryside enjoying the convertible experience. However, none of it really mattered because wherever we went, it was always a thrill and we always had those rather huge smiles that one tends to see on the faces of all those rag top drivers out there.
Now, we look forward to the next sports car season, to many carefree miles on the road in our Triumph Spitfire, and to making memories that will always be cherished.
