Re-restoration: The hidden burdens of maintaining a car collection.

Why would I re-restore it? It was only 20 years ago!

By Tim Suddard
Jul 16, 2025 | Restoration, Column, Car Collection | Posted in Columns | From the Jan. 2025 issue | Never miss an article

Having owned some of my collector cars for as long as five decades, I’m faced with the rather daunting task of tackling some re-restoration. It’s time to go through them yet again.

Quite frankly, I’m not looking forward to it. I’m not even a fan of regular upkeep.

I would rather find a dilapidated old car, buy it, learn about it, restore it, and take it to an event or two. From there, I stash it away in what my family and staff have christened my car church. Then I go on to the next project.

But during that sitting process–even in a climate-controlled space–the condition fades: Paint dulls, dirt accrues, and little scuffs and scratches take their toll. Tires go out of date. A little piece of rubber trim pops out of place and, with other cars vying for attention, the issue is forgotten about.

[Are your tires too old to be safe?]

You don’t really notice those issues when you walk past the car, of course. But they sure do come to light when you go to a sell a car and the prospective buyer points them out–usually with potential hard feelings.

“My car is in No. 1 condition,” you proclaim. “I personally restored it to the highest standard.”

Then reality sets in: That restoration was done a few decades ago.

So, how to better keep tabs on things? When I had a half-dozen cars, it was pretty easy to remember what was done when. Triple or quadruple that number of cars, and there is no way you can remember any kind of maintenance schedule.

We originally kept a book with notes. Now we’re playing around with a couple of apps, including one called Carport. It’s specifically designed for car collection management.

But better than tracking them, I also try to drive them, even though our season is shorter than expected–blame the very hot summers plus my own time constraints due to travel and, of course, work on other projects. As we’ve learned time and time again, however, not driving these classics can be the worst thing for them. Regular exercise remains key.

I can’t ignore some of these issues forever, though, and lately we’ve been busy in the shop. We decided that we needed to spend more time on that pressing re-restoration work rather than starting new projects, even though magazine deadlines and a constant crush for new content demanded by our modern multimedia company keeps pressure on me for restoration stories on a constant basis.

I do have some help, though. I tend to focus on new projects while he’s been sticking with the maintenance and repair issues.

While the system works well, it seems that we cannot catch up. The Sunbeam Tiger we restored 20 years ago has been plagued by a transmission that likes to jump out of third gear, the Meyers Manx dune buggy needs a bit of tuning, and we need to redo the seats in the Model A as I last recovered them back in 1974–some 50 years ago.

Do I thin the heard to reduce some of that load? I often talk about it but haven’t done it–and probably won’t for a while. These cars have kind of become my children now that my actual children are grown and thankfully running the company.

A friend has similar issues–too many cars, not enough time. In a few weeks, I’m going to check out a Ferrari 308 GT4 that he seems interested in selling. I’m sure adding a Ferrari to the collection won’t cause any issues, as I understand they pretty much take care of themselves.

BULL! BULL! BULL!....no such thing.

 

What's your least favorite restoration job?

By Tim Suddard
Jul 15, 2025

Just in the last month I have sewn seats, repaired fiberglass, rebuilt carburetors and, most recently, recovered and installed a couple of headliners.

Repairing these headliners got me thinking: Just what is my least favorite restoration job? And while repairing headliners is right up there, there are way worse jobs to face when restoring a car.

First, though, how about the positive moments? There’s certainly an excitement to stepping into the paint booth and stripping the masking tape from that freshly painted car. All that sanding, grinding and prep work having paid off, turning your ugly chunk of metal into a beautiful swan.

Another highlight is attaching that first piece of restored chrome, or a taillight light with its combination of gleaming rubber gasket, glowing lens and chrome base. Nothing looks better and feels better than seeing that combination of perfect paint, chrome and glass.

That first test drive is another magical moment–assuming the car doesn’t catch on fire, of course. And yes, as with most things in the restoration hobby, we have learned about fire from personal experience. If you look closely under the hood of our Bugeye Sprite, you can still make out the remains of a rag we left lying along the header before our first test drive.



But back to present day: the miserable jobs that make me wonder why I keep doing this? Why spend the hours, months and even years covered in grime and full of self-doubt while trying rescue yet another basket case?

Believe me, I have done it all, from rust repair to fiberglass refinishing to bull work like pulling a filthy engine or rear end. For me, the nastier, the better. I adore the dusty, sticky, smelly fiberglass work that most sane people abhor. I also love cutting, grinding and welding. I just crank up the AC/DC and rock out in the garage.

First job on that list of least favorite things to do: I have not grown to love electrical work. As with building engines, I understand and can do it, I just choose not to. Thankfully in my life I’ve had a series of friends who are good at it and patient enough, with both me and the work, to help. As clean and seemingly easy as electrical work is, at least theoretically, it’s a weird aspect of car restoration to hate, but I just don’t have the patience for it.

Once a car is finished, I also hate going back and working on it. I would rather go on to the next project. Routine maintenance bores me to tears. And don’t even tell me we need to take the engine or transmission back out to remedy a slipping clutch or a bad synchro. I would do a month of metalwork to get out of this monotony.



[Re-restoration: The hidden burdens of maintaining a car collection]

Then there’s the fear of the unknown. Most cars are supported by catalogs full of bright, shiny, reasonably priced parts along with a knowledge base and community of fanatics that make restoration fun and, dare I say, easy. Cars like our Mustang, Corvette, Triumph TR6 and Bugeye Sprite were a breeze. Books have been written about them. There are millions of ideas, photos and tricks out there to make these restorations truly fun.

Less common cars, not so much. How can you restore the rear brakes, for example, on an ’60s Elva sports racer or a 50-plus-year-old Tornado Typhoon kit car when you don’t even know what those components should look like? No pics, no diagrams, no wisdom, no parts–just a big, black pit of despair. Rare cars like these are truly frustrating and hard to restore.

Thankfully, our connections and, yes, the internet, have made things easier over the past 30 years. This world has shrunk as well–yet challenges still remain. We did the Bugeye in less than a year. This Elva has taken us five years, and we’re not done unraveling its mysteries yet. We’re winning the war, though.

So, if I had to rank my least favorite things to do, I’d say not knowing is worse than rust, worse than cracked fiberglass and worse than filthy old suspension components. I think I’ve learned my lesson, in fact, and vow to never tackle another unsupported car–until, of course, the next one rolls around.

7/15/25 10:45 a.m.Bodywork, bodywork, bodywork! After the metal work is completed, a small amount of filler needs to be applied and sanded to get to the final acceptable shape and contours. In my case it's apply filler and sand. Then apply filler and sand. Then apply filler again and sand. See the trend here. I have absolutely ZERO jack for doing bodywork. I could spend a week on one panel and other than 5 gallons of Bondo dust on the floor, it looks no better than when I began. Some people can do it and some can't. I fall into the second category. I learned early on, send it out for bodywork and paint and keep my sanity. I'll continue to play with metal fab and let making the project look good to the professionals.