Getting from Point A to Point B, the Studebaker Way

 

1963 avanti pic When you own a Studebaker you will eventually need to buy parts for it. Where do you get these parts? That’s the easy part. There are parts vendors all over the US who have new old stock parts, used parts and reproduction parts. How you get the parts to you is sometimes a different matter…

There are several swap meets in the US that deal with Studebaker parts so you can always go to one of those and hopefully find the part you need. If not you can have it shipped. Or there’s the Studebaker way. This is the tale of a Studebaker adventure and (near) world tour taken by one such Studebaker part.

I used to own a 1963 Studebaker Avanti. The car was in great shape but the hood kept getting a bubbled up area in it. This is a fiberglass bodied car and the thought was that there was air trapped in between layers of the fiberglass. The fix for this was to gouge out the surface to release the trapped air then fill it in an repaint it. Not a bad plan and not too hard either. However I knew with my schedule it may take me a while to get it done and I still wanted to be able to drive the car during that period, so I decided to buy an extra hood for the car and get it ready to use.

I found a good used hood near Philadelphia PA and agreed on a price. I paid for it, now it was mine. Now to get it home, which although I live in PA it’s in the other corner, a good 6 to 7 hour trip. Well, if you’ve ever traveled in Pennsylvania you know there is no direct route anywhere. The annual Studebaker swap meet in South Bend Indiana was coming up but the seller was not planning to attend. No problem, he knew someone who was. The hood was taken to New Jersey from where it made the trip to South Bend strapped to the roof of a Rambler Ambassador. I was in South Bend as well but had my ‘59 Lark that the hood wouldn’t fit in. No problem, a fellow club member was there with his truck, a Studebaker tilt bed that he had hauled a 1952 Commander on to the swap meet hoping to sell it. He said he would be happy to take the hood back to his house in eastern Ohio for me. He did sell the Commander but the new owner was going to pick it up at the seller’s home in Ohio, so the car made another trip back on the tilt bed.  Before it left we strapped the hood for my Avanti under the Commander.

A week has now passed and the buyer of the Commander went to get his car. He took my hood to his house so now it was only seventy miles from me. A week later he came to my house to get an overdrive transmission for another of his Studebakers and brought the hood right to me.

It’s good to have friends.

But wait! The story doesn’t end there. Before I was able to do anything with the new hood I sold the Avanti so now I didn’t even need the hood. I listed it on ebay and sold it.

A new plan was now hatched. The buyer drove his Avanti to my house after having removed his hood. That part of the plan was brilliant because all we had to do was bolt the hood on where his used to be and he would drive home. A brilliant plan… unless it rained. Yes, you guessed it, it rained, but just the last sixty miles of his journey. I was watching for the hoodless Avanti and when I saw him pulling into my driveway, (at least I thought it was him), it was a downpour at that time, I threw open the garage door so he could drive right in. We bolted the hood on and he headed for home.

Where was home you ask? Why it was right outside of Philly. The hood traveled just over 1500 miles to find a new home ten miles away. This is how you get from point A to point B the Studebaker way.

Can you top this? Send your yarn to the Madd Doodler and we’ll tell your untold story right here.

Contents copyright Madd Doodler Publishing 2010

 

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A Love Story

63 Lark  In the summer of 1969 I fell in love for the first time. I didn’t realize it then, being only nine years old, but it was a love that would last for a long time. It was true love. She was seven years old when my father introduced us and I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Sure there have been others since then but you never forget your first love.

We spent all our time together running around in the field next to my family’s home. My sister teased me and made fun of her unusual name, but that didn’t bother me because I was in love… with my Studebaker.

She was a 1962 Lark four door with a six cylinder engine and automatic transmission. Oh sure her fenders might have been a little bit rusty and the tires were bald, but she ran great. My father had traded an old motorcycle that was sitting rusting in the basement for the Lark. My brother had a 1963 Rambler station wagon, and we would spend all day racing around in that field. We wore down a pretty good track too. I remember Dad bringing home a five gallon can of gasoline for each of us almost daily (of course it was much cheaper back then).

I drove the Lark around that field for two years, by which time I could see over the steering wheel instead of looking between the wheel and the dashboard. After two years the car was getting in pretty bad shape but the old six cylinder still ran great. We found another rusty ‘62 Lark that had a froze up engine and bought it for ten dollars. After switching the engine I drove that Lark for two years.

Other field cars came and went, but I’ll always remember my first Studebaker. I’ve been a die hard Studebaker fanatic for quite a few years now and I’ve probably had over twenty Studebakers of all different models since that bring great memories to mind including my first Avanti that I bought in Florida in the spring of 1991 and drove home to Pennsylvania. Of course there are a few more I would like to own but no matter how many I ever have or how nice they are none will compare with the first one in my memory. Every time I go to a car show or flea market and I see a Studebaker or parts for one my mind wanders back to the memories of a nine year old and a rusty brown lark with bad tires. The rotted muffler and torn upholstery were like new to a kid who drove around in circles all day or until the daily allotment of fuel was burned up. The Lark would sputter to a stop, secure in the knowledge that the boy stretching to see over the steering wheel was happy, and it had given all it could for that day… or at least until Dad came home from work with more gasoline.

This is a revised version of my article which was first printed in "Turning Wheels" magazine and in the book "A Studebaker Family Album" in the 1990s

 

Contents copyright Madd Doodler Publishing 2010

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