Mickey York…The silence is deafening.

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Hi everyone, we you may be wondering why we are featuring Mickey York ‘s latest article here and not in the pages of Cruis’news. Well, it’s because we had accidentally printed last July’s article in this years July issue. Mickey was very understanding about the debacle but if you are like me, you cannot wait to read the latest joys and woes from Mickey’s “Grandma’s 62” resto project so, here you go…

 

After almost two straight months of fast and furious activity; phone calls; parts orders and deliveries; rear end assemblies; drive shaft; brake and engine installation things have quieted considerably.

No news is good news, right? With a lot of the mechanical work completed on the car I assumed it gave Wayne some peace and quiet to resume and complete the body work. My schedule kept me away from the shop for the better part of a month so I figured it was time for a visit; a quick check to survey the progress and take some new pictures for the catalog. I never like to just pop in so I gave Wayne warning of my visit.

He quickly returned my call and explained now was not a good time. He then proceeded to tell me the car was going to be on the move. Now that’s what I’m talking about! Getting that thing moving again has been the idea all along. Then I got the rest of the story.

The move he was referring was to a different shop. It seems the place where my restoration has been taking shape for the better part of the last three years is undergoing some changes. Long story short, Wayne’s work space was being “reconfigured”. In essence there was no longer going to be room for him to work on my car at that shop.

If you’ve been following my little adventure for a while now you had to suspect it was about time for this project to encounter another detour. It had been going too well for too long. No news it turns out was not good at all.

“Don’t panic.” Wayne told me as he could sense my building anxiety. “We’re still on track.” By on track he means I should have a finished car in time for the Dream Cruise. After all he’s as weary of this project as I am.

Wayne went on to explain the car was just going to be moving up the street. I’ve actually been to the place he was speaking of, but the last time I was there I couldn’t see room for a folding chair—a folding chair that was folded.

“Don’t panic.” Wayne tells me again.

Sure. Why panic? Just as we seem to be approaching the finish line another unforeseen monkey wrench threatens to muck up the works. It’s only been three years. There’s only body, primer, paint, electrical, interior, trim, exhaust and cooling system left to be completed and (as of this writing) we’re only 82 days from Woodward. WHY WOULD I PANIC?

Deep breaths—counting slowly backwards from ten—my therapist says this works.

So what now? Apparently not a lot has been accomplished over the last month. Wayne tells me the electrical work is nearing completion. There’s no mention of the rear quarter panels. I’m so busy not panicking that I don’t remember to ask. I suddenly feel a sense of being so close, yet so far.

After hanging up with Wayne I try to process the news. He’s confident we’re still on track. He has a plan in place. He knows there needs to be time to work out the last minute mechanical issues and adjustments that will need to be made after the initial test ride. He’s got this, I say to myself. I’m trying to be practical.

Yet, if I’m completely honest, I remain skeptical. I was never very good in math, but if I try to compute the time + work equation it doesn’t seem to add up. I don’t want to double check this math for fear that I might actually be right and with that realization there is disappointment I also don’t want to fully comprehend.

So how do I come to terms with all of this? The answer for now is that I’m not. I trust I’ll have my car when Wayne says I’ll have my car. You think I’m foolish, don’t you?

Here’s the alternative. I become a raging a—hole. I yell, I scream. I Iet the frustration of the last three years pour out of me. I make demands, threats and establish hard core deadlines. I admit, for a moment that all might feel really good, but what would it accomplish?

There isn’t a temper tantrum that’s going to make any of this go any faster. Unleashing a steam engine full of hot air doesn’t release pressure for anyone involved. Needless to say my choice is to simply roll with the punches.

In times like these I tend to remember, of all the problems I could have this is rather insignificant. There are real reasons to get emotionally charged. There are real problems to worry about. Maybe its health, or a job or something is going on with your family. At the end of the day getting worked up about a luxury item; a want not a need is kind of silly and not worth the energy. I’m thankful just to have the opportunity to experience this at all.

NOW, FINISH THE DAMN CAR!

Sorry, that slipped.

I’m still resigned to having the car by August. I’m not letting go of that. But in the stream of consciousness that is this article I must once again mentally brace myself for the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, 82 days from now I’m burning rubber on Woodward.

Until then I take inventory of the parts waiting for their request to join the restoration. Scattered around my home they remind me. A driver’s seat here, bumpers there; and in the garage a space eagerly awaiting the arrival of my grandma’s 1962 Impala SS.

Not a whole lot has happened lately so the words this month are but a few. But the message is clear:

Don’t panic.

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