The pregnancy was long and protracted. Even longer than an elephant and what you would have expected from it would be something much larger and more earth shattering than an elephant, but alas it was just a Bugeye Sprite. Over four years ago I was randomly flicking through eBay and Gumtree when I came across it. I’d been in one for all of ten minutes when I was eighteen and I had to ask myself whether I was going through a mid-life crisis. Logically if I was to live to 110 it could be called a mid-life crisis, so I dismissed the idea. I had $6000 in the bank, time on my hands and the car matched the price and within six months I figured I’d be driving around in one again, hopefully for longer than ten minutes. Needless to say I bought it. It was 99% there. But as your footy coach tells you, it’s the one percenters that count and can be costly.
Overjoyed I put it on a trailer and stashed the myriad of bits and pieces that were unnamed and unrecognisable and in numerous boxes in the car, all the while trying to work out whether to call it Cartrina, Jessicar or Veronicar. After all that would be the hardest problem to solve. I should have just called it Moneypit and be done with it. When it comes to mechanical things I realised I was all thumbs. If it was a left handed thread I’d snap the bolt off by turning it the wrong way. Anything that needed a fine touch was beyond my skill level and probably understanding. One thing I was good at though was cleaning and so I removed bits and cleaned them. I use the word bits because I had no idea what they were called and even their role. If it had dried up grease or caked on dirt it got cleaned. Three of the neighbour’s kids I think got cleaned in the process too.
The car itself was in pretty good nick. The outer sills (a technical term I learnt when I had to order stuff) and the floor pans all needed replacing and there was some rust in the wheel arches, but that I heard was standard. So I bought replacement bits and went looking for a welder, not the machine but the person with a machine who could weld. Things that get hot, make sparks and that can blind a person should not be within arm’s reach of my limited skills. The car got sandblasted and etch primed and went away to someone who could weld. I kept feeding him money as he did more and more. He did a really good job but months kept tumbling past in quick succession. In the meantime I cleaned and derusted and painted. Some of the rust was more than my impatience could take so I used Google for inspiration. In my distant memory was something that I had nearly learnt in chemistry, electrolysis. I was a bit concerned though as it may remove all the hair from my body and I had very little on top. After some careful consideration I tried it. I attached a wire to an engine mount that had a little rust on it dropped it in a solution and attached the other wire from the battery charger to an old spade with a broken handle and turned it on. It was a shame the footy was on because I got distracted. When I did remember, I went out and checked the power of electrolysis. It worked!!! I had the cleanest spade and the rustiest engine mount ever.
I began to assess the missing parts and made a long list which tragically got longer when I found that the glass covers on the indicators don’t bounce well on concrete. Tony Bennetto found me some stuff including a grill. Thorpe at Morris Minor in Moorabbin was brilliant tracking down bits because he said that the Sprite was made up of a lot of different parts from other cars. I began using eBay and buying stuff, only to find that some stuff on the Mark 1 Sprite was different to the Mark 2 and so I now have a supply of some Mark 2 stuff which I need to sell. I am not selling the seats though and am very happy with the Mark 2 seats which are in almost perfect nick. I was scanning Gumtree looking to waste more money, when I spotted them and rang the owner. She was unsure whether they were Mark 1 or 2 but I drove the hundred plus k’s to her place anyway. She wanted $250 for them. Someone had donated them to the garage sale she had run where the proceeds went to the Lost Dogs’ Home but they didn’t sell. She saw my hesitation and dropped the price to $200. I figured that it was going to cost me around $1000 to get new ones made up and so I negotiated and got them for $300. A Lost Dog’s Home is a worthy cause after all.
I took them home and decided to sell the seat shells and base that had come with the car along with a gear box. Who needs two of those? That is how I met Dennis Flynn who has since become a firm friend. He is a master at doing up old cars and had worked on 16 Sprites, owned and raced them. I became his incompetent apprentice as he helped me with my car. I finally had retaken ownership of it and had the body, now fully repaired and taken back to bare metal, sprayed a deep dark blue. We have worked on and off, (mostly off) for the past eighteen months and it is so close I can almost smell the exhaust fumes. The engine had been rebuilt through Morris Minor in Moorabbin and had lain dormant for three years so I am hoping when the key turns in the ignition it will actually work or I may find a labyrinth of caves at the bottom of the money pit that draw even more money out of my bank account.
Chasing down car parts is an artform and along with patience, it is a skill that I have learnt in the process of restoring my Sprite. I had some rare parts seemingly. The cowling on the steering column and a perfect left-hand drive dash were examples, except I have a right-hand drive car now. I even had the windscreen washer pump but it was jammed. Apparently though an old Hillman had the same part and I was able to find old unused ones of those still in their plastic. Actually a mate and I now have five spare as it pays to buy in bulk. Just need to find the matching knobs. I have learnt about thread sizes and can even retap holes whether they need it or not. I also know that somethings are better outsourced such as fitting windscreen rubbers. Three and a half hours by three of us amidst copious amounts of swearing was probably not the most productive use of time but hey I have a windscreen and some sense of achievement. The car has a beautifully fitting hood, tonneau and sidescreens and I actually helped with that so I have learnt some stuff and more importantly retained it along the way. I know where every single nut and bolt is on the car (except those inside the motor) and the ones that dropped between the panels that we couldn’t find and that will rattle as I drive along. They will make the same sort of sound as money being taken out of an ATM and because of the Sprite I know that sound well.
I had set myself a budget and even had a spreadsheet organised to tabulate the cost. It would never be to concourse standard – fibreglass bonnet, wrong seats, the minilite wheels and the areas that you can see where I had worked on, would be a sure loss of points, but I figured that it was worth at least $25000 when finished. As the accounts were paid, the spreadsheet became dispiriting and as it clicked over the $20,000 mark including the original purchase cost, a while back, the spreadsheet seemed far less important than finishing the bloody thing. After all I had taken a rusted old car with a non-working engine and restored it almost to its former glory. That in itself should be reward enough, is my new line of thinking and justification. However probably what has been more important has been the friendships I have made, the wonderful people I have met along the way and the realisation that my skills are in driving cars, finding car parts and definitely not repairing and restoring them.
Now I have to decide whether to go on club plates or get full rego. The roadworthy won’t be a problem. The issue is whether I will drive it more than 90 days in a year. I love my Lancer but I have a feeling that the Sprite may just nudge it, not only out of the garage, but also into second place when it comes to the choice of an everyday drive. However I will have to do yoga or Pilates if I am to be able to get in and out of the Sprite on a regular basis. See, the money pit is never ending!
