Last Call: Red and Green Edition

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In the early seventies you could get Volvos in Cool and Way-Cool.
Last Call indicates the end of Hooniverse’s broadcast day.  It’s meant to be an open forum for anyone and anything. Thread jacking is not only accepted, it’s encouraged.
Image: ©2016 Hooniverse/Robert Emslie, All Rights Reserved

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  1. I swear I’ve seen a better photograph than this of DJ Kool Herc driving around with his (to quote Wikipedia) “2 amazing speakers (sic) columns”. It may have been in a book called Cut ‘n’ Mix by Dick Hebdige, but I’ve lent out all 4 copies I had of that book.
    Anybody?

    1. bruh imma give you one piece of advice here, having been in a similar spot myself:
      better is the enemy of good
      my own rusty-car-hell project took a year and a half to finish, and the vast majority of the work happened in the last week. i stopped being afraid of something less than perfect because i recognized that if i kept chasing perfect, i’d never finish. i became more willing to experiment with materials and techniques. bondo, applied conservatively but not sparingly, became my friend.
      don’t freak out about every detail of the paint. don’t try and make every panel line up perfectly. don’t try butt welds, just get a flanging tool and do lap welds. you can finish the project up quickly with a few rough edges and get back to driving, or you can spend two years dicking around with it…..and then finish it up quickly with a few rough edges anyway. if you find yourself dwelling on one part of the project, crank it out in two days and move on. you will learn as you go. if you try to get a factory finish on every part of your repair, you’ll learn nothing.
      because the most important lesson from my experience is this: the car is finished. i appreciate your drive to repair it fully. i felt it myself. but your repair won’t last forever. that rust is deep in the car’s bones. with that in mind, now is the best time to let go of the car emotionally. recognize that its days may be extended, but they are numbered. you will get so much more out of the experience that way. you’ll learn more, you’ll try more new things, you’ll become confident with the tools you’ll need to fight the rust when it comes back. you’ll get it back on the road faster, which will give you the motivation you need – i suffered severe enthusiasm slump when perfection proved unattainable. when it comes time to move on, you’ll be so much more enriched from the experience of fixing and driving your good car than endlessly working on a car that will never be perfect.
      i miss my MR2, but i don’t regret letting it go. there are always more cars. you will experience love again. the world is a good place. don’t worry.

      1. Thanks for the advice. While my friends and family would say otherwise, I’m not really a perfectionist. I know my limits, I know the car won’t be perfect when I’m done fixing it, and I’m okay with that. It’s not like I’m working on an otherwise cherry car. The car’s been a turd since I drove it off the previous owner’s lawn in August of 2013, and I’ve loved it all the same.
        Most of my loss of motivation was unrelated to the challenges with repairing the car; the winter of 2014-2015 was a really, really unhappy time for me. I had a bunch of really shitty familial things happen in rapid succession, combined with unending bitter cold and snow. To give you an idea of how depressed I was, I generally only listen to NIN when I just want to die. Not suicidal die, but ‘I would be 100% okay with getting hit by a bus or something’ want to die. From December of 2014 to March of 2015 I listened to NIN so much that The Big Come Down is still the #1 song on my most played songs playlist.
        I eventually got over it, but by the time I did, I found myself laid off from my job and without an income. Any money toward cars had to go toward ones closest to being driveable, which meant my 245 and 9-5. Eventually I abandoned plans of fixing the car altogether, and just had no idea what to do with it. I settled on turning it into a parts car because that’s what made the most sense at the time, and I knew even that would probably never happen.
        Now that I have a semblance of an income, and I’m in a much better place emotionally, I decided to go back to my plan of fixing the car. It’ll probably be theraputic to me anyway; fixing things just puts me in a zen mood, even if it’s frustrating.
        And as for having a good car that I don’t endlessly need to work on, I have it already; my 900 convertible. I made the smart move there, getting it for free from my girlfriend who had already done all the major work for me. 🙂
        On a related note, I actually found something out last night by complete accident while I was cross-referencing part numbers in the SAAB EPC (electronic parts catalog.) It’s something I wish I had known in November of 2014. I’ll give you a hint with this photo:

        1. Only the true perfectionist would deny the title “perfectionist”, since he, seeing the imperfections, understands that he isn’t quite there yet…

  2. Be still my heart! Beautiful. Wish there was just a little more angle on that photo so I could tell just what wheels that 164 is wearing.
    A larger, higher-res version of this would make me some nice new wallpaper.

    1. That was true of the 140-series, too, but I guess the last decade brought a small sort of resurgence here. 164’s trade at good prices. They are known as a reliable near-luxury classic here. The feature I am most fascinated about is the “educative accelerator pedal”: It stiffens a fair bit from about 50% compression to remind drivers of a slow, social democratic process of acceleration. Also, the 3 liter engine wasn’t particularly powerful even for the time.

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