Just over three years ago I bought this lovely 66 Buick Skylark. I couldn’t believe I was finally buying a classic car. I was actually laughing out loud the whole way home. She ran pretty good when I got her. She was finicky though… had quite a few issues (like the massive exhaust leaks that filled the cabin of the car with fumes) but it still was a fucking cool ride. Problem is that I wasn’t (and still am not) mechanically inclined… AT ALL.
When it started to give me endless trouble (more fumes giving me really strange headaches, failing brakes, slipping transmission, dying in the middle of the 101 freeway…) I concluded that it would be a “great idea” to learn how to restore this car to it’s former glory.
With one Buick website as my only guide, I ripped out the interior, bought new seats, took out the tired motor, bought a new motor and transmission to drop in… new suspension… new brakes… even more I can’t remember. With over 2 years of tinkering (with a lot of help), and way to much bread spent… somehow it still remained only about 20% complete. After almost cutting off three fingers in a freak engine stand accident I decided that I was done wiith this shit. I think that she was telling me she didn’t want to be saved. I guess it was her time. And I really don’t have any business working on a car. I didn’t spend weekends as a kid “wrenchin'” on the Chevy with my dad. I was too busy writing dumb songs on my 4-track.
Now her pieces and parts are separated, off to be used in other Buicks by people that are way smarter than I am. The hood gets sent to a guy in Kentucky. Her tailights get used in a Skylark in Maine. Her frame gets a second life in a ’66 GTO. I was hoping that she wouldn’t die. And I don’t believe that she did.