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Among the vehicles in the Hemmings Sibley Shop collection is a heart-grille Brewster much like this 1936 Brewster Town Car for sale on Hemmings.com, and though it's not nearly as nice it's easily one of the more popular cars in the collection. The older restoration on this example appears to have held up well over the years. From the seller's description:
This 1934 Brewster-Ford Town Car is a beautifull older restoration. a CCCA National First Prize winner that was featured in Automobile Quarterly (volume 7 #3). In addition to its distinctive grille the black bodys passenger compartment is accented by applied white canework a rear-mounted spare and folding luggage rack. Black wire wheels have whitewall tires. The chauffeurs compartment roof is removable making the car adaptable both to formal use in town and when fully enclosed touring in all weather condition. The rear compartment is fully appointed with jump seats a sliding division window intercom mirrors smokers kits a center armrest Jaeger clock and rear window shade. This is a high quality older restoration that was done right at the time and shows the quality and care that went into both the original Brewster coachwork and the restoration. A CCCA Full Classic (tm) it is instantly recognized as one of the most admired and distinctive front end designs ever created. Its Ford chassis and drivetrain make it easily and economically maintained.
1936 Brewster
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Patina is huge these days, and for good reason. While the weathered “survivor” look is not for everyone, it absolutely has its benefits. When you put down $10K or more to paint a car, you tend to not drive it as much because getting that first scratch is terrible. It is just easier to enjoy a car that already has some scrapes and dings, especially if it isn’t a particularly rare model. The interior, however is one of those places where patina is usually accompanied with a musty smell of Grandma’s cellar. An original interior that is faded but intact can be cool, but that often quickly gives way to just looking gross. Such was the case of our 1973 Volkswagen Beetle project. When we got it eight years ago, the interior was at a "decent survivor" level, but after sitting another eight years, the interior was beyond our level of salvageable.
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>The door cards were not terribly warped, but the vinyl was peeling and dingy. We could have saved all but the passenger door card, which was water damaged from the window regulator failing. The carpets were threadbare and had long lost their desired to stay in place on the floor. Besides the condition, everything was black, and that just added to the sadness. Bugs are supposed to be happy little cars, not sad, so we placed a call to TMI Products to get some fresh threads for the Bug’s insides. Our custom order included front and rear seat covers, door panels, carpet, headliner, and visors. TMI allows you to order any material they offer, so we were able to order an interior that matches the planned paint scheme, which is a two-tone seafoam turquoise on cream white. This was carried throughout the upholstery, with a sweet houndstooth on the turquoise fabric, which is on the center centers and the door inserts. </p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>The door panels are relatively easy to install. The treated fiberboard door cards fit most Beetle models, you just match up the holes you need and pop the perforated sections out. We reused the original metal clips that hold panels to the doors and interior quarter panels. The carpet is the real job here. Unlike most cars, Beetle carpets are not a press-molded one- or two-piece affair, instead they are a cut and sewn jig saw puzzle that is glued to the floor. This means that you need a few special tools, specifically a paint gun, some upholstery cement, and a roller.</p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p><strong></strong>Preparation for the carpet install is critical for a VW. If the floor is not spotless, the carpet will not stick in that area, eventually leading to it coming up. Vacuuming the entire floor and then wiping it down with brake cleaner, thinner, or some other solvent is a very good idea. Installation of this type of carpet can be a little daunting, but it is not that hard, you just need some patience and planning. Some of the sections don’t quite overlap, instead they butt together, so pre-installing each section can making notes is a good idea, even if you have done it before. </p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>The glue used to secure the carpet is important to good installation. You may be tempted to use something like 3M General Adhesive from a spray can, but that is a mistake. While it will work for a while, this spray glue is not strong enough to hold heavy carpet to a floor, especially in summer heat. Instead, you need professional upholstery cement. We used WeldWood Landau Top and Trim contact adhesive, which can be found online in sizes as small as one gallon. You can also buy it from your local upholstery shop. Most shops will sell you some without having to buy a big pail. Our carpet took 2.5 gun cups to complete the carpet installation. That is about is about 80-ish ounces of glue. We used a typical siphon-feed spray gun for glue. Don’t ruin your gravity feed gun by putting glue in it. Pick up a cheap siphon feed from a bargain tool store. The glue is hard to clean, and you will only use that gun for glue from that point on.</p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>The glue-up is a two-step process. We use a large piece of cardboard on the ground to keep dust away from the carpet and to keep the glue off the floor. The back side of the carpet is sprayed up the edge, and the floor is sprayed as well. Then you let the glue tack up for a couple of minutes before setting the carpet in place. You don’t want to spray all of the carpet and the whole floor at once; instead, do one section at a time. Where you need to spray onto the new carpet or any surface you want to protect, a piece of cardboard makes for an excellent edging tool. Once the two layers of glue touch, it is pretty much down. You can reposition it a little, but you may have to spray more glue down if everything peels up.</p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>We worked from front to back, installing the kickpanels, then the firewall, front main floor, rear floor, then the sills. Take pictures of your carpet before you start, paying attention to each piece and how it lays over, under, or butts to the next section. After you lay down a section, use a rubber flooring roller to press the glue together, ensuring a proper installation.</p>
Photo: Jefferson Bryant
<p>There are few areas that need trimming, such as the sill heater vents and the seat sliders, which on Beetles is weirdly part of the floor and not the seat. We were missing a few pieces of plastic trim, which we will replace later when we replace the cracked dash and headliner. Going from a drab black to this bright and vibrant package transformed the interior of our Bug. It is no longer a place sadness, it is fresh, bright, and fun, just like a Beetle should be. </p>
Source
TMI Products • (888) 460-0640 • tmiproducts.com
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Photo: Provided By Author
I turned 18 in late 1977. Ordinarily it would have been just another birthday, especially considering I had my driver’s license less than a year, but it was significant in that I was hired as a valet parking attendant at The Manor, a well-known fine dining restaurant and caterer - that doubled as a very popular wedding venue - located in West Orange, New Jersey. It also meant I could leave behind yard work, dog care, and the sporadic odd jobs of scooping ice cream and delivering newspapers.
The Manor sat on an extensive mountainside property adjacent to a wooded reservation and a golf course, so it was a great place to work outside in the fresh air. Visitors entered the property through tall gates and navigated a tree-lined driveway that led to the grand entrance of the pillared Georgian mansion. Valet parking was free and not required. If visitors opted for valet service, vehicles were driven from the main entrance to either an upper or lower lot. The farthest parking spaces were more than a quarter mile away from The Manor’s front door.
I had been into cars since childhood, so this was a magical job. I was part of a crew of six or seven that worked for tips, and we wore orange coverall uniforms so that we were easily seen at night. We routinely parked and returned more than 400 cars on a busy Saturday, with parties in the afternoon and then again at night, together with public dining.
Jockeying cars for position in shrinking lanes during return rush times made me a better and more precise driver. Another benefit was that I developed a higher appreciation for well-designed dashboards, budding smart controls, and quality upholstery. I preferred gauges to warning lamps, and I intensely disliked the flashing green and yellow dashboard fuel economy indicators that seemed unwelcome in luxury cars. The only way to make the annoying indicator stay green was to coast.
As a crew, we elbowed each other to park the hot imports, such as BMW’s 2002, Datsun’s Z variants, the first Honda Accords, Toyota Celicas, and less frequently, Volkswagen Sciroccos. These were all well-equipped, light, quick, and easy to park. It was also possible to shift them into higher gears for test drives by taking the long way around to the lower back lot. As far as I knew, none of us ever got a Porsche 911 out of second. Our boss knew the joyride risk, so we had to keep numbered dashboard tickets in sequence for assigned spaces that discouraged long drives around the property.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
I have many fond memories of the job. To start, the things people left in their vehicles were nothing short of amazing. There were open bills with private information in plain view, and mail of every other conceivable variety, as well as checkbooks, laundry, arts, and crafts in all stages of non-completion, sticky food wrappers, and other trash. I also quickly learned that a tip amount didn’t always correspond to the expense or condition of the car after one guest left a caged guinea pig in his 1967 Pontiac Le Mans when he arrived late for a wedding reception. Aside from needing to be washed and vacuumed, that car was quite fragrant. It was a dry day, so I lowered the side windows, and we took turns checking the pet as we ran to and from other vehicles. Later, the guest told me he was glad the party was over and was eager to reunite the guinea pig with his young daughter. Having noticed us checking on the pet, the car owner gave me the biggest tip I ever got to fetch a car.
Another unusual thing happened while parking a 1975 Buick LeSabre sedan. Two people got out and went inside for dinner and as I got in immediately noticed the aroma of freshly baked bagels emanating from two gigantic bags that took most of the rear seat, nearly reaching the headliner. After parking the car, I was spooked by a low voice from the far-right of the back seat that asked, “Howee doin’?” I had not seen the slight fellow partially hidden by one of the tall bags, and all I could ask was if he intended to go inside. He said he didn’t want a fancy dinner, just a nap. He offered bagels to the entire crew, which were delicious, and stayed in the car and slept for two hours.
Rare cars would roll up on occasion, including one almost everyone guessed was a Maserati, though I recognized it as a Facel Vega. The exhaust growl of the Chrysler Hemi V-8 was positively rhapsodic, and the grand tourer had polished wood throughout its interior. We parked it in a special spot on an outer aisle near the front door and overheard customers speculate what it was while waiting for their own cars. When the tweedy owner eventually came out, my boss, Ray, was determined to sound smart and amuse himself. He conspicuously and formally signaled, “Christopher, the Facel Vega, please.” Seeing where we placed his pride and joy, the owner gleamed. He may have enjoyed that moment more than his dinner.
Another story involved a regular customer’s Cadillac Seville during lunch hour, when Ray often let me work alone so he could get a break. Two County Sheriff’s detectives stopped to tell me they were looking for two inmates who had escaped from the local penitentiary wearing–what else–orange coveralls. They were last seen running on the neighboring golf course. Of course, we always left keys in the ignition of parked cars. The detectives asked how many cars remained from lunch, and whether I could account for each. To my dismay, the Cadillac (one of only three cars left in my charge) was gone! The owner was very classy when the detectives needed his license plate number and unselfishly said he was glad I had not run into the thieves. Luckily for me, the car was recovered unscratched at a nearby shopping center, but we never heard if the thieves were caught.
I rarely drove a car onto the open road, but one exception was a permanent resident’s 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. The luminous dark red sedan was overdue for its annual state inspection and the owner’s wife “volunteered” me to drive it to the inspection station in the next town. The engine was so quiet and vibration-free that I had to concentrate to hear it. The interior was beautifully appointed with the finest leather I had ever seen or touched. Intuitive controls were set in burled walnut. In my opinion the steering wheel was somewhat primitive and too hard for an ultra-luxury auto, but it was a minor nitpick since the car was a magic carpet. It literally floated when put in drive. As expected, there were no buzzes, squeaks, or rattles. It handled well and predictably with adequate road feel, despite its considerable weight. Power came immediately at the slightest touch, suggesting ample reserve, and the Rolls-Royce stopped on a dime.
Photo: Hemmings Archives
Admittedly, I was very nervous driving it, even when it seemed other drivers stayed out of the way once I reached a multi-lane avenue. The inspection station was in a not-so-nice area on a narrow, bumpy street, and being near closing time the station was busy. I had to get in a line that snaked around the block and all I could do was hope nobody hit the darn thing.
As I crawled to the entrance, the inspection staff was laughing and pointing at me, still wearing my orange coveralls: “Hey kid, how did you get out of jail and where did you get that car?” Fortunately, my uniform sported a company crest. Seeking mercy, I said it was the boss’ car. Then the Rolls failed its emissions test. Adding to the insult, the dented, oxidized Volkswagen Beetle behind me passed with flying colors. In those days, a sticker with a big red circle signifying failure was affixed to the windshield’s lower left corner. You couldn’t miss it.
I finally relaxed when I pulled the Silver Shadow into the familiar driveway without incident. To my surprise, the owner’s wife was happy to see that the car failed, because now she could get it tuned up without further debate. Apparently, her husband was always working and neglected his cars. We were reminded of that later when we had to jump the battery in his seldom-driven Jaguar XJ12. The next time I saw the Rolls it had a proper inspection sticker.
After parking cars for eighteen months, I transferred inside to become a bartender as my college days progressed. I missed handling the cars, but not enduring cold winter nights or donning those orange coveralls. Over the years I have almost always insisted on parking my own car, but when valet parking is unavoidable, particularly in a city, I tip in advance. It’s remarkable how a few dollars will often gain a spot close to the attendant’s booth, sometimes with a safety cone next to our car.
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