- Joined
- Oct 30, 2023
- Messages
- 17
- Reaction score
- 27
- Location
- Utica, New York
- My Car
- 1971 Mach 1, Dark Green Metallic
2-door SportsRoof, 351C-2V V-8
[Day 1]
My first car was a $500 '73 Volkswagen Super Beetle--bright orange. The garage down the street did the engine work and I drove it. I did some body work myself . . . I covered the hole in the passenger side floor with a heavy floor mat. Then, armed with a scraper for the inside windshield, I'd trek out into the Upstate New York winter, breathing exhaust fumes and counting the first fifteen miles before the rear engine fed me a few extra degrees of heat. Since then, I bought a new car every 3-5 years, and someone else did the work on it. I'm a marriage therapist in private practice and enjoy woodworking, craft beer, billiards, mountain biking, and hanging out with my wife and daughter (the order depends on the day).
Over the past few years, my daughter, going on age 15, has somehow developed an interest in classic cars (I'm still unsure of where she gleaned that passion) and I had seen the list of her favorites . . . including a '57 Thunderbird. I imagined her driving one of her dream cars one day and hoped it was one of the slower, safer ones. When my cousin passed away, I became involved in cleaning out his estate. I knew he'd had a few classic cars, and we expected to sell them outside of the family. He was a Ford guy: a classic f150, a couple of '90 fox bodies, and two early '70's Mustangs. "Dad!! He has a what??" She grabbed her car list and waved it too close to my face to read it . . . focusing, I saw it, a few lines down: '72 Mustang Mach 1.
So, after an appraisal, a fair-price negotiation, and a call to AAA, I had, sitting in my driveway, a '71 Mach 1. Not quite a '72, but my daughter has no complaints.
She hadn't seen it yet. And when she came lumbering up the street after school, she nearly lost her mind. I'll admit, I couldn't keep my eyes off it: Long hood. Dual scoops. Rear spoiler. A couple small patches of rust. Barely noticeable misaligned bumper. Beautifully sloped rear window. Great color. And an engine . . . that I knew nothing about. Not a thing. "Dad, we'll learn together!" Well, we have already learned a great deal about the Mustang Mach 1, its history, the engine variations, and most importantly, where to begin in the task of bringing this thing back to life.
Here goes something . . .
[Day 3-5]
I'll be documenting my journey on video and will be posting again in the coming days.
My first car was a $500 '73 Volkswagen Super Beetle--bright orange. The garage down the street did the engine work and I drove it. I did some body work myself . . . I covered the hole in the passenger side floor with a heavy floor mat. Then, armed with a scraper for the inside windshield, I'd trek out into the Upstate New York winter, breathing exhaust fumes and counting the first fifteen miles before the rear engine fed me a few extra degrees of heat. Since then, I bought a new car every 3-5 years, and someone else did the work on it. I'm a marriage therapist in private practice and enjoy woodworking, craft beer, billiards, mountain biking, and hanging out with my wife and daughter (the order depends on the day).
Over the past few years, my daughter, going on age 15, has somehow developed an interest in classic cars (I'm still unsure of where she gleaned that passion) and I had seen the list of her favorites . . . including a '57 Thunderbird. I imagined her driving one of her dream cars one day and hoped it was one of the slower, safer ones. When my cousin passed away, I became involved in cleaning out his estate. I knew he'd had a few classic cars, and we expected to sell them outside of the family. He was a Ford guy: a classic f150, a couple of '90 fox bodies, and two early '70's Mustangs. "Dad!! He has a what??" She grabbed her car list and waved it too close to my face to read it . . . focusing, I saw it, a few lines down: '72 Mustang Mach 1.
So, after an appraisal, a fair-price negotiation, and a call to AAA, I had, sitting in my driveway, a '71 Mach 1. Not quite a '72, but my daughter has no complaints.
She hadn't seen it yet. And when she came lumbering up the street after school, she nearly lost her mind. I'll admit, I couldn't keep my eyes off it: Long hood. Dual scoops. Rear spoiler. A couple small patches of rust. Barely noticeable misaligned bumper. Beautifully sloped rear window. Great color. And an engine . . . that I knew nothing about. Not a thing. "Dad, we'll learn together!" Well, we have already learned a great deal about the Mustang Mach 1, its history, the engine variations, and most importantly, where to begin in the task of bringing this thing back to life.
Here goes something . . .
[Day 3-5]
- The registration suggests that the car has not been driven since 1995. Both front wheels were locked so I couldn't roll it into the garage. I figured it was brake pads rusted to the drums (or wheel bearing problem). It was the pads. This took some learning how to free them (before that, I had to learn the best place to lift with a jack and to secure with jack stands--remember . . . marriage therapist, woodworking, beer). Being a tremendous overthinker, I took waaaay too much time trying to figure out how to get the drum off. I didn't realize that the studs were attached to the drum and was waiting to see some movement of the drum around the studs. Knowing that I would be replacing the drums with disc brakes, I became less concerned with preserving the parts. I got the drums off, removed the pads, and put the drums and wheels back on.
- While the drums were off, I found that the front suspension needs replacing (I'll wait on this until closer to summer: I can wait to spend $1200 or more). This doesn't look like a difficult job--but the map ain't the territory!
- I also siphoned out 15 gallons of 25-year-old gas. I will be ordering a gas tank this week--rust, rust, rust.
- I have the VIN but no door tag. I ordered a Marti report: H-Code (351-2V V-8),
- Dark Green Metallic with Black Knit Vinyl, Sport Interior. Yes, it is an automatic, which I am a bit bummed about. I learned that a Cleveland engine can be identified by the 8-bolt valve covers and by a radiator hose that enters into the block, not the manifold. Ahhhh...I have a Cleveland.
- Finally, I vacuumed the carpeting and cleaned the vinyl seats. I diluted Chemical Guys cleaner with water, which worked well as an initial cleaning. Mice had made the car their home for quite a few years, so I wanted to get crap off the seats and floor. I'm looking forward to replacing the mouse-pee carpeting and to learning the best way to deeper clean the seats and other interiors. My uncle replaced the factory radio with a cassette player--booooo. Maybe I'll see if I can get a hold of an original radio at some point.
I'll be documenting my journey on video and will be posting again in the coming days.
