Two Sundays ago I saddled up the Spyder on my friend Cory Drake’s car carrier, rented a UHaul truck and towed it 120 miles to the home shop of a guy named Tommy Martin.
Tommy’s a long-time body man. He ran a pretty big shop for decades, retired from that and now keeps working. Mainly paints school buses, I’m told by my friend Alan, who recommended Tommy.
The setup was a major suck. The truck had no ball hitch, the first receiver I bought wouldn’t work with the ball I had. Yadda yadda. But the trip was uneventful once underway. The trailer’s 1,000 pounds and the car’s just about that too. Together they’re just a little more than I feel comfortable dragging with the rusty bumper of my 200k-mile, four-cylinder Nissan truck.
I got there, gave Tommy a case of beer and a detailed instruction sheet, promised to pay him American dollars, and unloaded the Spyder into his barn.
A few days went by and Tommy started texting me pics. First final primer and sealer, then color.
Seems to be coming along nicely.
The insides of the panels are not as smooth.
That’s as it should be, I believe. These were race cars and, while they were finished to a high level for their time, they were still never as perfect as most of the modern restorers tend to make them.
Tommy says he’s got the rest of the body in the shop now. I’ll update next week when I get the car back.
Along Came A Spyder 