Of all the components in this restoration I expected the chassis least likely to present a challenge. This car was not pristine or particularly well maintained. When I bought her in 1978 she had lived in Michigan for awhile and it appeared she had seen some winter driving and subsequent salt exposure. She had been roughly used.
Back in ’78 she and I were on very intimate terms. I actually wished she had leaked more oil than she had. Those areas soaked in oil still had original paint underneath. Everything else was varying degrees of rust.
Some areas had substantial damage. An inner section of the port frame rail aft of the center cross member had a gaping rust wound about fifteen inches long.
Other problem areas were the bottom of the shock towers and the area just forward where the lower wishbones were mounted. Back then I sandblasted everything the old fashioned way, a cloud of free silica hovering over the driveway. (Note to self: investigate possibility of suing myself for negligence, see if I can get compensation for possible mesothelioma.)
I had cut away the rot, fabricated new parts, fitted and welded them in place, primed and painted the chassis.
This time around, resto 2.0, with the body, engine drive-train and suspension removed I thought, in the words of Austin Powers, it would be a simple case of “show the undercarriage a bit of who’s your faathaa.” Sandblast it and slap on some POR-15 and be done. 40 man hours max, probably more like 25-30.
I had wrestled this particular gator successfully once before; without trepidation I grabbed the little fellow by the tip of his tail and promptly found myself dragged into the swamp. I was quickly embraced in the dreaded “death roll” an unexpected problem can precipitate.
The blasting was uneventful. Afterwards it looked good, the steel all grey, the finish exhibiting the perfect tooth to suck up and hold paint. But the closer I looked the worse it looked: The starboard bow had been impacted in an accident previous to my ownership. There were kinks and dents in the starboard frame rail, a particularly egregious example just aft of the shock tower. There were areas of rust-through that, thirty seven years earlier I had either not noticed or chose to ignore. My repair welds, once suitable for framing were now embarrassing. The skills I had accumulated in the ensuing decades since I monkeyed with this car outweighed those exposed by the blasting. What was once the acceptable work of a promising young apprentice was now sketchy.
A walk in the park was morphing into a slog through the wilderness…
Car in Tow 
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