Photo by J.A. Ackley
Too cold? Keep it in the garage. Too hot? Keep it in the garage. Snowy? Keep it in the garage. Rainy? Keep it in the garage.
How many of us let the weather forecast dictate our fun with cars? Before you know it, six months (or longer) have passed and you’re staring at your car, hoping it’ll start and that nothing will go wrong once it starts moving.
Is there ever truly a perfect time?
Room temperature is just that–room temperature. Go outdoors, and it’s rarely a perfect 70°. It’s rarely partly cloudy with a gentle breeze. It’s rarely without elements like dust, pollen, bird droppings and, yes, precipitation.
Unless your car’s a museum piece, it’s meant to be driven. So do it.
This is the lesson I learned this past week as I obligated myself to an appointment with my 1974 Cadillac Eldorado convertible: a New York state inspection. The forecast: temps in the 60s. Hey, that’s comfy with a jacket. Then I read the rest of the forecast: steady rain, heavy at times, with gusty winds.
Great.
[What was the car that sparked your interest in our hobby?]
The Caddy has been a work in progress since being resurrected from a decade-plus-long slumber a year or so ago. Is it perfect? Far from it. Years of sitting idle have taken a toll on many cosmetic items–and so have the mice. However, it’s running, at least when I last drove it more than six months ago.
I live 750 miles away from where I garage the Cadillac, which my mom bought new. It remains at my parents’ house for the time being. I try to visit the folks every few months to make sure they’re behaving and help where I can help. And as added motivation, I get to take the Caddy out for some exercise.
Last November was too cold. Last December was too snowy. Now, it’s too rainy. I can still back out of my appointment, right? I can hear my younger self yelling at me.
“Coward!” Johnny says.
Can I swear at my younger self?
He’s got a point. It’s just rain, right?
I roll up the garage door and stare at the Caddy. “What am I doing?” I think. I slither my body along the narrow space between the car’s right side and the undersized garage and disconnect the battery tender. Then I take a look underneath. Yep, there’s still a small transmission fluid leak (long story), but everything else looks clean.
I struggle to get up and then open the right-side door. The interior lights turn on–battery’s still good.
I stretch my body to reach the hood release and then get back out the right-side door, making sure to hold my breath to make the tight clearance. Slam the door closed and weasel my way to the front to check fluids. Check after check after check comes back all good in the fluids department.
Okay, let’s get in the car. Give it some gas, turn the key and it tries to start, but no go. Try again; still not started. One more time and it fires right up. Darn, there goes an excuse, it’s running.
I’m trying to find some reasons here to back out.
Do the headlights work? Pull the knob. Yep.
Do the windshield wipers work? Push the lever. Yep.
Will the convertible top leak? Well, we have a perfect opportunity to find out.
I roll out of the garage and out of the driveaway, my wife hops in (might need her to help push) and we head on down the street. It’s not raining hard, but it’s a strong mist. I flip the wipers on periodically to clear the windshield.
Photo by Jess Irwin.
As I make the 15-minute trek, I get a horn of approval and a thumbs-up from a person in another car. I see people looking at me as I pass by, but they seem to be looking with admiration for someone using a car for its intent rather than distain for taking out a classic car. Hey, I’m feeling pretty good.
The car’s loving this, it seems, too. The engine’s running good, and I see no signs of convertible top leaks despite preparing with a half dozen or so bath towels.
We make it to the inspection shop, and it passes with flying colors. I drive it back with a renewed sense of confidence and enthusiasm for the Caddy. “We did it,” I think. When the sun came back out a couple days later, I gave it a nice wash and put it back in the garage for the next visit.
Was the rain so bad? No. Did anything get wet? Nothing that shouldn’t have gotten wet. But perhaps the better question is, did I have fun? You bet–and I think the car enjoyed it, too.
Photo by J.A. Ackley
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