Ever since I was a child I always had a fascination with cars. When I was only two or three I would associate types of car with the models that my parents’ friends owned. So it was with a degree of sadness that during the first leg of my cycle ride from Canada to Mexico I’ve had the misfortune of spotting an unrelenting stream of beautiful yet abandoned automobiles through rural British Columbia, Washington and Oregon.
I do wonder how such cars came to be in such condition. A lot of them were obviously purchased with the best intentions. Projects that were abandoned or ones that never got off the ground. Something else came up, life got in the way, interest waned. And so these cars, full of hopes and dreams of full restorations, began to decay. Thoughts of them being locked in the garage and polished, waxed and used on sunny days were pushed into the background.
When I say abandoned, I do wish I’d mean that in the sense of being able to turn up one day with a trailer, drag the poor thing from its deathbed, and transport it to a perfect dry stored location back in Vancouver, where I could create my own army of half-finished potential classic automobiles, which one day could be unleashed upon the world. No questions asked. No problems.
But unfortunately it’s not that easy. The cars are always in someones yard, and often there are brambles, and sometimes small sapplings growing through part of them. One particular Mustang (featured in the photos) I found on Route 18 in western Oregon was a prime example. It was once a beautiful car. Full chrome bumpers, subtly dished wheels, a gunmetal grey paint job. At some point it was taken off the road. I’d say, judging by the last tags on the mossy license plates, this was in 2002. Since then ten long years have taken their toll. Now, the drivers’ side door is rusted through. The front wings and headlight mounts are losing their battle against rot. The chrome bumpers are crumbling. But it still remains a thing of beauty. How I want to knock on the owner’s door and make him or her a modest offer. It’s obviously unloved. A $10 tarp to cover it would have saved what is now thousands of dollars worth of repair work. But it’s unrealistic.
In Vancouver a few months ago I spotted a 1970 Chevy Nova. It instantly caught my eye, as I owned a 1971 Nova of my own at the time. It was the more desirable, and much more striking two door version, period wheels, and a once beautiful racing the green paint job. But now, after 14 years of sitting outside an industrial unit in North Vancouver, it was getting towards the point of being a lost cause. I tracked down the owner and got the story. He’d been keeping it for when he “got around” to fixing it. Asked whether he’d part with it he told me he’d only take a frankly ridiculous figure for it. It wasn’t worth it in it’s present condition. Another sad tale of a classic car destined for the scrap heap.
And that’s what seems to be happening all over the Pacific Northwest. But one day maybe someone will save some of these cars. One day someones teenage son will pipe up and say, “Dad, that Mercedes 280 that’s been sitting in the yard since I was three? Can we restore it?”, and then it will happen. Some friends will band together, cut through the foliage, and drag the car back into the light. They’ll be shown how to work on cars, replace parts, fabricate and weld new panels, and rebuilt engine and suspension components. Weekends will have a new purpose. Then a dream will be realised. One other classic car will be freshly built, painted, and be driven out of the darkness of a garage and on to the open road once again, and that might – with luck – spur others on to do the same.
