Restomod Roundtable
To restore or modify, that is the question
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of authenticity purists
Or to take arms against a sea of old fuddy-duddies
And by slapping on new engines, trannies, steering and suspension, end them in a cloud of your dust. . .
We now take up the issue of restomodding, or restoration/modification, in which an old car is restored but with some modern equipment added to make it faster and/or better handling and/or more comfortable. Basically, to one extent or another, to make a modern car with the look of a classic.
This isn't a new concept, of course--people have been modifying stock cars probably since the first one rolled off the assembly line (heck, probably before there were assembly lines) and the whole hod rodding hobby is built around modifying the snot out of dad's old Buick to make it into a mean street racer. At the other extreme are the concours-level restorations in which individual parts are compared to the original for authenticity and woe to he who has '57-style floor mats in his '56.
We'll ignore these established extremes and instead concentrate on the relatively recent "project car" phenomenon in which classic--and sometimes not so classic--cars are thoroughly upgraded to drive like an Accord while looking like a Matador. Why? As we here at Car Lust often say, old cars suck. They're generally slow, handle poorly, are unsafe, and often have all the creature comforts of a trip to the urologist. Still, many of them are achingly beautiful, and even if they're not, they very often have a hold on our psyche such that we long to see and be seen driving them as they were in the old days. So why not throw a few new parts in and make them drive like new? Well, to some it's like the old joke about owning an original walking stick carried by George Washington; except the shaft has been replaced three times and the handle four.
And so we convene another installation of the Car Lust Round TableTM in order to hash out this issue. Is it cheating to take an old car and turn it into the equivalent of a Hyundai? What about that feeling of nostalgia as you motor down the road feeling what your father must have felt when he bought a similar car new? On the other hand, many of those feelings amount to noise, harsh rides, lousy steering, and standing by the side of the road while the engine cools down. For some useful background, see this bit by the boys at Top Gear:
Anthony Cagle
I am a bit schizophrenic on this one. On the one hand, I have a great appreciation for cars kept to their original specs. Most of the reason I like old cars is because, well, they're old cars. They're history on wheels. They're a time capsule whereby you can hop in and really experience what it was like to drive it when it was new. And basically, they still do the job well, getting you from point A to point B. Not like most old stuff that either doesn't work or does the job poorly. I mean, I love old computers, but you can't do much with them anymore unless you're into writing simple Basic programs with lousy graphics. But yet, you can hop into a Pacer and drive it on the highway, on a date, to grandma's house, whatever.
On the other hand, I know firsthand the trials and tribulations of actually owning a typical Car Lust automobile. Especially if your objet d'Lust is, how shall we say, horsepower challenged, it makes it tough to keep up on todays 70 mph-plus freeways. If your pseudo-classic is your only car, it's tough for me to argue--having modified my own car--to keep the thing totally stock.
Cookie the Dog's Owner (below) and I are probably in the same chapter if not quite on the same page on this. Once a car gets to a certain age--say, 15 years old and unmodified--then it becomes something like a historical artifact and seems to me it deserves to be conserved as it is as much as is possible or feasible. When I see something like a 1959 Impala all tricked out as a low-rider, or chopped and rodded out to within an inch of its life, my first thought is "That poor car." Of course, my second thought is usually, "Well, better than being in a scrapyard, I suppose."
I prefer to think of myself as an idealist rather than a purist. When I was debating whether and how to restore and/or modify my own 1978 Mustang II (linked above), I wrestled with these same issues. Were it my second car, no question, I would have kept it as completely stock as possible. But it is my only car and thus needed to be as reliable and functional as possible. But apart from the engine and exhaust system, I've kept it pretty much original. I even repainted it in the same boring Dark Metallic Brown, even though I've always secretly (well, not anymore, I guess) wanted a car in British Racing Green. I love its squishy steering, soft suspension, creakiness, draftiness, and the all-around 1970s-ishness of it. And for some reason, my lower back likes those old lumbar-challenged seats much better than the new models. I guess I have a Classic Back as well.
My next Big Issue is the wheels. They don't make many 13" tires anymore and the ones they do make in that size are cheap budget ones (though I suppose they are arguably better than the originals). Even a few years ago you could still get performance tires in this size, but not anymore. The wheels are an important part of preserving the look of the car, so that will eventually test my preservationist resolve as well. But, eh, we'll see. By then I might have changed my mind and decided to turn it into some low-rider monster.
Restore or modify? It depends on what you're starting with.
I have recently become the proud owner of a lovely postwar capital ship of a sedan , which the previous owner restored to nearly original condition. (The only modification is an aftermarket fuel pump; everything else looks like the day it left Willow Run.) I plan not to change a thing, partly out of respect for the man who restored it, and partly because the car is as much an historical artifact as a means of transportation.
Were my "new" ride not in such gloriously original condition, I would certainly give some thought to upgrading some of the mechanical systems to improve the driving dynamics--quicker-ratio steering, better brakes, a clutch that doesn't feel like it came off a Hoyt-Clagwell tractor, maybe even a small-block V-8 with fuel injection. I suppose I could do some or all of this anyway, but since the car is not going to be used for much more than summer ice cream runs, I have no real need to compromise its historical accuracy.
If I were starting with a "barn find" with a seized-up engine, then so long as it wasn't a vehicle with particularly great historical value I'd be more interested in making it functional than in making it original. I rather like the idea of old-school wheels with modern drivetrains. One of my enduring daydreams is to find an Avanti with no engine or transmission, drop in a Mustang V-8 and a modern manual gearbox and sway-bar and coil-over the suspension to within an inch of its life. Even if I'm going all mad scientist with the drivetrain and suspension, I'd still want the car to look absolutely stock--but that's a matter of personal taste.
Oh, there is one mod I could see adding to any older car--a well-concealed CD changer playing historically correct music through the original speaker.
I'm all for restoration and I appreciate those who go to extreme lengths to return a car to it's pristine and original state. There's a real historic and cultural value to this kind of effort, and I'm glad that there are people out there who are this specific and detail-oriented, and willing to engage in this kind of project.
I'm just not one of them. Restoration without modification just does not make sense. Cars can be modified, so why not do it? Each original design is to some degree a compromise of cost, comfort, and function. What that means is that if you like a particular car, and a particular aspect of that car, then enhancing that effect just makes a lot of sense. The question is, how far do you go? With my Civic Si, I loved the look and the classic lines. Everything was visually perfect for me. So changing that did not make sense. It would have been like gratuitous plastic surgery for one's nine-year-old offspring. Even using
body parts from the JDM version would have been like giving my kid a nose job or something.
But modding suspension, engine, bushings, engine mounts, a very subtle drop in ride height while keeping the look stock--oh yeah, that works very nicely. While these mods did push things in a great performance direction, they also showed me the limit of how far I'd want to go. The original car had great smoothness and a lot of isolation. The modded Si has much less isolation. At first I was not sure how I felt about the change. The effect was like transforming the family dog from a gentle soft puppy to an assertive muscular alpha dog. The feedback to the driver is greatly enhanced, comfort is somewhat reduced, and sound levels are higher, mostly at low rpms. The car tracks and responds amazingly well, and at higher speeds and engine revs close to original smoothness returns.
In all of these mods I've kept a sense of the stock as a touchstone; I did not want to stray too far from that. There are a lot of highly modded Civics out there. There are few that look really stock and have a lot
going on under the radar.
One thing that is nice about getting a car that's modded to start is that one feels less attached to the original stock condition. If someone has, for instance, added a NACA duct for the intake, right there you are not stock. Modding more extensively seems like less of a stretch.
One change I recommend as a real money and annoyance saver is a good stainless steel exhaust. Hondas (and other cars) tend to go through exhausts fairly quickly. The amount of money I spent replacing exhausts on Civics over the years amounted to way more than the cost of a good stainless exhaust. Get a good one that sounds nice; it will be a pleasure to listen to and it will last for a very long time. I'm not talking about just the muffler. Replace everything from the exhaust ports all the way back to the tip of the tail pipe. This is especially true for the rust belt, where exhausts go even faster.
Count me among those who are inclined toward restomodding. I want to be able to drive my ride, and I want it to perform. I don't want something slow and sloppy that looks new--I already own slow, old and sloppy (a reference to my vehicles, not my hot wife!), and new-looking isn't enough of an upgrade for me to look past slow and sloppy.
I know I am not a purist. I want safety, power and comfort in my cars and trucks. I don't care if it came with an inline six that cranked out 142 horsepower. I want to know if I can shoehorn a big block in there. In fact, you can have the inline six if you'll get it out of my way.
I want shaved handles and paint that pops. I want stereos that rearrange your internal organs and rims with bling. Give me fat tires and free flowing exhaust. I see the base car as a canvas for the artist, not the completed work.
Nathan of Brainfertilizer Fame
Since I'm just over 40 now, however, by the time I'm 80 I would probably want to restore it to perfect condition just to have a pristine cruising car. If we still use gasoline by then, that is.
A quarter-century ago, when I was a (very minor league) collector of roadgoing vintage cars, I cast a heavily jaundiced eye on any modification that compromised the originality of the objects of my lust. This was, it must be said, an era during which bone-stock older cars could be expected to be considerably more reliable and satisfying to drive than their modern counterparts. With that in mind, I bought those cars to enjoy, and despite keeping them in their original state, every one of them saw regular use, and none of them every left me standing at the side of the road. Today, by contrast, you can choose a ten-year-old car almost at random and be fairly certain that it will start, run, and drive with little or no indication that it's been around the block a few times. (This can be said, in fact, of my 1992 Mercury Grand Marquis.) In the mid-1980s, by contrast, even new cars hadn't reached that level of goodness. Those from the previous decade were--despite the oft-inexplicable love with which they're showered here at Car Lust--mostly craptastic in every respect.
Thus, when I bought a gently used 1963 Riviera, it was clear to me that a) it was much nicer than the shiny new 1983 model that was giving so much grief to my next-door neighbor and b) any modifications I might choose to inflict on it would turn around and bite me on the keister. I was not alone in this opinion. Older readers might recall a succession of "Boss Wagons" featured in Car and Driver during its glory days. The first one was, I'm pretty sure, a '65 Plymouth Fury; another was a Volvo 265, and I believe a W123 Mercedes and Olds Vista Cruiser got the Boss treatment as well. More recently--within the last five years or so--David E. Davis Jr. admitted that every one of those wagons was, overall, a worse vehicle for having been modified.
And so, I must say, are many of the vehicles that have been subject to modification today. I can't imagine that even the most naive driver of a slammed Civic believes that a fart-can exhaust improves performance, or a spoiler that's all right angles enhances stability.
But what about that '63 Riviera I wish I still had? Or, for that matter, my neighbor's sad '83 model? What about any older car that's getting a little tatty but still has enough appeal to warrant thoughts of restoration? Some aficionados take the hard line saying "by virtue of having survived, this car has become a part of history, and nothing should be done that will compromise its originality." To them I ask, "Are you talking about one of the handful of remaining Duesenberg SJ roadsters, or are you getting your panties in a bunch about a '65 Mustang, of which there are countless examples spewing blue smoke through exhausts that are mostly old frozen OJ cans?"
I can get behind the notion of certain vehicles transcending their original mandates and becoming true museum pieces. But in the case of that first-generation Mustang it's a different story. A car like that, despite its age, can be used and enjoyed by its owner, and that enjoyment will only be enhanced by the application of judicious modifications to the drivetrain, chassis, and other components. Purists will point out, and quite rightly so, that those modifications might--no, will--reduce the car's value on the collectors' market. But the cost of a 99-point restoration to original condition will almost certainly exceed the finished car's market value, so that argument doesn't hold water. And, of course, once the big bucks have been spent on a "real" restoration, the car becomes too valuable to allow out of the garage unless it's going to be presented at a show.
In the end, we all get to vote with our checkbooks. If someone buys an old Mustang and decides that every nut, bolt, and body panel should be exactly as it was was when the first Mustang was unveiled at the New York World's Fair, more power to him. And if that someone's evil twin buys that old Mustang's own twin and retains nothing more than the sheet metal and VIN, I wish him nothing but happiness.
Of course, despite my attempts to live up to these laissez-faire sentiments, some modifications simply go too far. Here is a picture of a familiar-looking car--a real Cobra, not one of the replicas--that was involved in a fairly dramatic wreck. It could have been restored to its original condition. Instead, it became a cartoon character. Just looking at the picture makes me want to sit down and sip a small scotch, and that is just what I'm going to do right now.
I think all of the contributors to this round-table agree that there are some cars that are so old, rare, and significant that they simply should not be modified. These cars are historical artifacts, and owners have both a responsibility and a financial incentive to act as stewards of those artifacts. Just as one would not cleanse an ancient Mesopotamian bowl in a dishwasher, so should one not cut apart a Cisitalia dashboard to install a CD player. Happily, most of these truly historic vehicles are valuable enough that they are already protected and preserved.
Beyond those rare cases, modification is a matter of individual taste. And, for the record, my tastes indict most visually obvious modifications as tacky, pointless, and horribly gauche. Generally speaking, the more obvious and dramatic the modification, the less I like it. I have great respect for hot rodders who have the skill to perform wild modifications to make a car into an entirely new, strongly personalized creation--but I usually see the finished product as an expensive cartoon car about which I just can't quite be bothered to care. I applaud the enthusiasm of the guy--it's almost invariably a guy--who schemes and saves to put a custom body kit and exhaust on his Dodge Neon, but I wouldn't be caught dead behind the wheel. Like Anthony, I am bemused by classic American sleds that have been lowered, metalflaked, and installed with hydraulics. I'm glad the cars are appreciated and still on the road, but I mourn the fact that it's now almost impossible to find an unblemished vomit-green 1976 Chevy Impala.
Obviously these are fringe cases of dramatic modification; there are more subtle and less visible cases where modifications become, well, totally bitchin'. For me, the breakdown takes place based on the rarity of the car, tastefulness of the modification, and consistency with the car's original purpose.
As an example, I am in deep smit with resto-modded muscle cars; invariably my favorite part of SEMA week is gazingly lustfully at vintage 1960s and 1970s muscle cars redone with modern bucket seats, high-horsepower crate engines, gorgeously sinister paint, and imposing brake discs and calipers peeping out from behind modern rims. To me, these cars are the ultimate expression of the muscle car art--it's a classic shape wrapping modern hardware, and the package simply updates those cars' original mission to look stylish and menacing while eviscerating the roadway. Likewise, I love the resto-modded E-Type featured in the Top Gear clip above. It's more useful, faster, and completely consistent with the purpose of the car; it's a classic car you can actually drive.
And, frankly, unlike pre-war Packards, the muscle car population (and, likewise, the E-Type Jag population) can spare a few tastefully and aggressively resto-modded examples. While muscle cars are rare compared to, say, the population of Toyota Camrys, they are in no way an endangered species. I have attended several car shows across the country that have been absolutely stuffed with pristine muscle cars. One such show, held in the infield of the 1.5-mile long Lowe's Motor Speedway in Charlotte, NC, contained so many acres of absolutely perfect 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS454s, Mustang Boss 302s, and Camaro Z/28s that I hit stimulus overload and lost interest. We are in no risk of running out of meticulously restored muscle cars any time soon. Yenko Camaros, yes. Camaro Z/28s or clones, no. As a muscle car lover, I would enjoy the whole phenomenon more if there was a better mix of originally restored, clapped-out and well-loved originals, and kick-butt resto-modded muscle cars on the road.
Likewise, as a fan of international touring car racing and off-road rallying, I have an irrational affection for street cars that manage to pull off the purposeful, lowered, and aerodynamic look of those stock-bodied race cars. It's a look that fails roughly 90 percent of the time--sloppy or incomplete execution dooms most attempts--but when it's done right it's stunning.
That's what I like, but the my position gets even more conflicted and inconsistent when I think about what I'd like to own. For example, when I bought my 1983 Malibu Wagon, I was enthusiastic about the idea of keeping the car visually stock but dropping in a torquey crate engine that could turn it into a supremely under-the-radar sleeper that could stalk Porsches and move an apartment's worth of boxes at the same time. As I began to bond with the Malibu, though, I began to rethink that strategy.
You see, I loved the car's character as it was; I loved it because it was such a clean, stock example in a world in which most Malibus of its era have been turned into street racers. I loved it for its push-button radio. I loved it for its soft, pillowy ride. I even loved it for the gutless dependability of its V-6. That car and I created our own relationship, and that relationship wasn't about speed. From my post on that car:
"I've driven my share of performance cars, and the Malibu experience was just as intoxicating. It was made to cruise comfortably. I'd roll down the windows, instinctively assume the typical American car bench-seat slouch, and float along with the engine burbling happily. At night, the 'Bu would motor along placidly while I listened to the vintage radio, the warm yellow instrument lighting illuminating my smiling face."
After wrestling for some time with different scenarios--should I put in a beefier engine and keep the V-6 in storage? Would it be possible to get more power without changing the car's feel?--I just shelved any idea of modification. I loved the Malibu too much just as it was to modify.
I feel the same way about other clean older survivors, and that goes back to my point regarding rarity. It's much harder to find a clean, original 1983 Chevrolet Malibu Wagon, or 1986 Saab 900 SPG, or 1978 Volkswagen Scirocco, or a 1989 Audi V8 than a nicely restored 1960s Ford Mustang. This will seem batty to most, but I consider those cars actually more rare than the Mustang, and a greater shame to modify. As a guy who recently completed a used-car search--more on that next week!--I can also attest to the fact that finding original, clean examples of used cars that are generally unloved is incredibly hard.
I drove a 1990 Saab 9000 Turbo that was a nightmare of performance upgrades--some of which were functional, some of which posed a dramatic threat to the engine's continued existence--and that was graced with a rear wing and a shift knob. I passed up several old domestic cars that were botched or partial projects where the added modifications simply made me want the car less. Even if those cars had some modifications that I would consider myself, I didn't want them--a car that has already been modded brings that car into conformity with somebody else's vision, not mine. Their changes only limit my options.
So, what would I do? I am completely open to tasteful modifications to make a classic car more modern. Those might include an engine upgrade, changing drum brakes to discs, a decent paint job, a better sound system; any modification that improves the car's usability without blemishing its underlying personality or appeal.
With a car that I really loved, though, I would be incredibly careful and painstaking not to ruin it, following the example of Gimli the Dwarf in The Lord of the Rings when he describes the care he would take to protect and enhance some beautiful caves he encountered:
"No dwarf could be unmoved such loveliness. None (of us) would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap--a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day--so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock."
Mochi Mochi
The dividing line between a good and bad mod or restoration is good or bad taste. Who determines what's good or bad taste? I do. And when I'm not around, you do. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm the arbiter of
good taste.
Some believe that the original design of a car is and must be an optimal design. The belief is that "experts" designed the car so making changes or enhancements really just ruins the "purity" of the original and degrades the overall design. The problem with this argument is that it assumes that the original design is without flaw and that it was designed in an atmosphere that was "pure." Any car that is on the road is compromise before it ever hits the street. One could say that it's a "balance" rather than a compromise. But if I told you you could replace an OEM axle that had a tendency to fail with a lighter, stronger one, that would last four times as long, was less prone to bending, had a proven track record, it came with a 10-year, no-questions-asked warranty, and cost half as much as the OEM part from the dealer ... would you buy it? Of course you would. Welcome to the first step in modding your car! I don't think anyone would argue about the merits of such a modification to an original design.
If we think of good taste vs. bad taste we often associate bad taste with a garish display of excess. Things taken to extremes don't often get associated with good taste and refinement. The garish is easily
identified by a lack of balance or good sense--a muffler that is loud but lacks a good tone, an enormous wing on the tail of a car that clearly does not need it, or worse yet a wing that is installed backwards, or angled in such a way as to provide lift instead of downforce. These are all things that lack sense, sensibility, or balance.
How one applies "sense, sensibility, and balance" to restoration and/or modification of a car is part of the creative challenge in a project car. There's also the question of what you are going to work on. There's a bit of a difference between an Aston Martin DB5 and a Datsun 510. Projects involving these cars have a different sets of constraints.
The DB5 is a car that is such a classic it's hard to imagine modding it, but given that this is a British car of a particular time it's hard to imagine that it could not use some improvements. There are those who actually race these cars. Whether you think that's right or wrong depends on how much cash you have. If you are going to race that DB5 then you better plan to do a lot of mods. The form that defines the car is very refined, that's part of being a "classic design," so changing the appearance of the car beyond a few subtle adjustments in the tire and suspension area would really be unwelcome.
The Datsun 510 is a classic in its own right, with its clean crisp lines. It is a car that looks good in its innocuous, friendly and cute stock family-car form, or as a nasty snarling little brute set up for the
track. I'm always happy to see a 510, stock or race. The canyon and track racing 510s I've seen have all the classic looks of an original but with an aggressive quality that extends from the functionality of
adhesion, transition, braking, and acceleration. There has come to be an aesthetic of minimalism in 510 modifications that is completely appropriate to the clean original lines of the car. That minimalist
aesthetic is something that is sorely missing from a lot of the modded rides one sees on the streets today. I wish Hondas were treated with the level of restraint that 510s are. Perhaps this difference extends from and reflects the personalities and cultures of the people who are doing the mods, the people who are crafting their personas in their cars.
I'm guessing that a lot of the differences we perceive in the appropriateness of mods to cars are associated with class, culture, and age differences. We all notice those modded cars we think of as
garish or wrong - they stick out in our memories. Subtle and refined mods require more of an "eye" to be noticed or appreciated. Everyone remembers the jerk who acts out on the road in a boy-racer-crap-bucket, but not everyone remembers that lovely glossy black 1967 GTO that is both beautifully restored and beautifully modified.
My preference for mods and restorations is for the aesthetic of the sleeper. Enough shows to let the intent be known but it's never more than is necessary to make the point. Keeping the visual cues below the
radar also gives the sleeper its ability to surprise and humiliate.
Cookie the Dog's Owner
Let me add to what Nathan and Mochi said.
I'm attracted to the idea of the "sleeper," and so my personal preference is for a modified older car to look stock or plausibly stock, even if what's under the sheetmetal is anything but. I appreciate the craftsmanship and personal expression inherent in a hotrod, lead sled, lowrider, or tuner car, I just don't particularly want one for myself.
There's a '59 Plymouth Belvedere that shows up at the local cruise-ins that I've written about here a couple of times. The body and interior have been lovingly restored to honest-to-Virgil-Exner day-it-left-the-factory perfection. In the engine bay is a 413 "Max Wedge" engine with a cross-ram induction setup--something Chrysler only put into the 300"letter cars." I'm cool with that--it's got a little of that sleeper vibe going for it. What sort of bugs me about this car is that he has modern alloy wheels on it. The rims look nice, don't get me wrong, but they don't look like 1959. If it was my ride, It'd be wearing stock hubcaps.
Nathan
The Fiat 126 monster car is from BigFun.be.
The Impala low-rider is from the Italiano nel Frattempo blog.
Shawn on November 05, 2009 at 01:51 PM
I'm all for mild modifications to older cars as long as some conditions are met: they are reversible and the replacement parts are quality and from a reputable manufacturer. If I upgrade the stereo in an older car, I'm very careful with the wiring, and the old unit goes on the shelf (if it still works). If I go to sell the car later, the original can be popped back in if it seems to be more desirable to others.
I think many people get trapped when they upgrade engines and suspensions with fly by night tuner parts. Those modifications may be great for a while, but when their normal maintenance life comes due, will that brand still be there to sell you a replacement?
Paul C. Perkins on November 05, 2009 at 02:09 PM
Replacing stock parts with modern counterparts - OK.
Stuffing a 350-ci Chevy into a Jaguar 3.8 Litre Saloon - Not OK
Upgrading safety related components on muscle cars (replacing drum brake systems with disc systems) - OK
Making a 1958 Chevy Bell-Aire dance about like it's experiencing seizure activity. - Not OK
Making the same Chevy Bell-Aire drag belly on the pavement. - Not OK.
Making any utility vehicle dance or drag belly - Not OK.
I haven't sat down and codified what is OK or not OK. These are just what I can think of off the bat.
jjd241 on November 05, 2009 at 03:19 PM
I am of a similar opinion as our illustrious panel. My latest daydream for the never ending road trip is a small vintage travel trailer and the ugliest/coolest early 70's station wagon. Take the wagon and do the required brake/suspension upgrades and drop in a modern diesel (6 litres or so oght to do it). There are guys making modern stereos that look vintage as well (hidden CD players and MP3 jacks etc.). It seems there are lots of guys willing to share their restomods on the internet...here are a few...
http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=restomod&hl=en&emb=0&aq=f#q=restomod&hl=en&emb=0&aq=f&start=20
Anthony Cagle on November 05, 2009 at 03:30 PM
Hey, do I get points for actually restomodding Shakespeare?
Y'know, I still don't like the extensive modifications to the Jag in the Top Gear video. That just seems like too classic of a car to mess with to that extent.
Bill T. on November 05, 2009 at 05:47 PM
This is a distinction between the two camps - the purists who show off their possessions for the Grand Concours ribbons, and those who want the looks of the old iron with the reliablility of the new. Since the purists often don't drive their vehicles, which includes trailering them to shows, where is the fun/enjoyment? My preference is definitely with those who make the car run well and enjoy driving it. A good example is Jaguar. The XK-120's through the XKE's look sharp, but were mechanical monsters/hypochondriacs. For a decent price, one can get an XK-140 or 150 look-alike with modern running gear that is DEPENDABLE, so why not go that way? In my view, if one enjoys their ride, that is what counts.
David Colborne on November 05, 2009 at 09:52 PM
I think it really comes down to the spirit of the vehicle. For example, the spirit of the DB5 was a top-notch road carving machine. Turning it into a better road carving machine while maintaining the original style is, in my book, okay (albeit rather risky with that particular car). On the other hand, adding hydraulics, dropping the suspension, adding spinners, or throwing ridiculous engines into places where they don't belong (e.g. replacing a VW Beetle engine with a Chrysler 318) detracts from the spirit of the original vehicle, and that rubs me the wrong way. If you have a Beetle, you have a cheap, dependable economy car. If you can make it a more dependable, more economical car, great. Just don't make it into hotrod - that was never the point.
John B on November 06, 2009 at 08:05 AM
BillT: I don't disagree as longas people don't wreck a real classic in the process of upgrading a car with modern mechanicals.
If someone MUST do something irreversable to a fairly rare classic...please use a kit car.
Luckily many of the great cars are too expensive for those kind of mods, but it still pains me for someone to take a nice stock car that is rare (unlike a 55-57 Chevy or early Mustang) and ruin it for future generations.
Bill T. on November 06, 2009 at 01:14 PM
John B. I also can't see ruining a nice classic, but the "clasic" bodies are becoming fewer and farther between. I also like the idea of turning to a kit car for someting unique, but in most cases, that involves a lot of work. The kit car that appealed to me was the Sterling/Sebring that was designed for a VW engine, but how easy is it to get a VW engine that is in decent running shape? If one has a different engine, the adapters needed for those are expensive. Overall, the world of kit cars is pricey.
educatordan on November 06, 2009 at 04:25 PM
I personally love the idea of restomod for your average run of the mill cars that might tug at your heartstrings for some reason but otherwise are pretty worthless. I have a soft spot in my heart for either an 82 Chevy Celebrity or a 87 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme because of them being my fist cars but would I want one with the anemic all original 92hp 151 cubic in Iron Duke or the 307V8 limited to 140hp? Of course not!
Let me get the motor mounts to drop a 3.1 V6 (biggest engine that platform was ever offered with) in the Chevy and a Corvette V8 between fenders of the Oldsmobile, then I would be happy and proud to drive them around. (And living in rust free NM I might just be able to do that one day.)
kenny heggem on November 06, 2009 at 11:41 PM
Some Engine Transplants I have always thought were lust worthy:
Volvo 240 with a 5.0 Liter Mustang Engine
A2 GTI with a 1.8t
A1 Scirocco with 2 liter 16v engine
Corrado G60 with a 1.8t
Vanagon with Subaru WRX Turbo Engine
Jaguar XJ6 with a Corvette engine
Yugo with Fiat 1.5 liter X19 engine
Chevrolet Sprint with Mazda 323 GTX engine
Morris Mini with Suzuki Swift GT engine
Paul C. Perkins on November 07, 2009 at 12:55 PM
Watched the You-Tube Video about the Jaguar E-Type.
I have the same problem with this car as I do with M-Type BMWs. Fist off - they cost about twice what they're worth. Secondly - In order to get them to deliver the performance they visially promise - you're talking about spending the price of the car again. When you're done, you have a really nice performing vehicle with all the styling elegance of a baked potato. . .
I don't see the point.
Paul
Phil R on November 10, 2009 at 01:32 PM
The age old question is well answered by the crowd's current responses. The bottom line is to take restomoding on a car by car basis. A current question mark on the subject is the 68 Volkswagen double cab pickup we are attempting to drive regularly. It is a kick to drive, but in need of upgraded brakes, desperately in need of updated brakes. After a little research, the hot set up is to use the later bus brakes, 73-76 which will add front discs instead of drum, and add a power brake booster. This will make a substantial change in the driveablility and safety of this truck without hurting it's value or upsetting the stock only crowd. The decision is not a hard one in this case as the upgrades will not change the overall look of the vehicle, but make the everyday use substantially better. Keep it stock, but upgrade the brakes and steering before the engine. It's no fun to have a 100 mile and hour car with 40 mile an hour brakes.