Lincoln model K, LeBaron

Well, I’ve just gone through another big adventure!

Having a new roof, I was transferred back to the workshop which is a typical sequel of every big action. The long-awaited assembly could finally take place. Dashboard first, followed by all doors including golf bag door, then front- and taillights, after which the electrical wires were finally connected.

Far from being completed, again they loaded me back onto the trailer. Funnily enough, it was smaller than me! I must have looked like an oversized cockchafer. The destination was clear – the upholstery workshop. Things began to happen really fast. In the very moment of entering the workshop I noticed MY seats. I was sure they were mine, however they seemed a bit different. Although the color remained the same, it was now shining and smelled sweet.

It went smoothly. Interior first, followed by the ruble seat compartment, then the dashboard and rugs. Last item were both doors, and after inserting the lovely pair of seats, the job was done. Amazing!

The real fun started only upon leaving the workshop. Again, they loaded me onto a trailer and started towing me back to our garage. We didn’t cover much though. You see, there was a small area of lawn, seemingly firm, but in reality it was wet as a drowned rat. Add my full weight and the result could not turn out otherwise: we were stuck, l just inches before the paved road. By stuck I mean really stuck. The Doctor tried steering the wheels in every direction, attempted to move forwards and backwards, but with zero effect.

When he left the car, I knew it went from bad to worse. The debate about possible means to get me out of there was opened. The worst case scenario was to slide me directly into the mud. I obliged strongly in protest. I have no intentions to be covered in mud. I even screamed! But nobody heard me, except for a nearby-standing Mercedes and a sick-looking Tatra 613. However, they were unable to help me. Just when it seemed that my immaculate wheels would be buried in nasty mud, Doctor had a life-saving idea: to disconnect the trailer and get it out of the mud by using a winch. It worked!

  
Step by step, the trailer was finally back on paved surface. Dirty as hell, yes, few pounds of pure mud were removed form its wheels, but I was safe and, most importantly, clean.

We’re going to the finals!

I am proud.

I am proud of myself.

I am proud of myself because I am beautiful.

I feel like a fairy princess, apart from waiting for a prince to cure me from my pride.

After all, being as beautiful as I am, anyone would be proud.

Okay. Let’s switch back to a slightly more modest tone and tell you what happened since my last entry. After a spotless yellow paintjob I was driven back to the shop for final assembly. Earlier though, a brand new roof was sewed together just for me. Great fun! This lovely tailor lady acted very seriously. At first she was ran there and back like a ball of misery – but this was just about her trying to figure out the correct methodology to recreate the old roof with zero flaws. Once she started, she checked every patch several times on me. I guess that not a single one fitted and she had no clue what she was doing. And once she finally got the whole thing put together and attached it on the framework with a set of long needles, which greatly resembled the acupuncture, I started to giggle. Not only it was tickling but the entire process was rather funny. The tailor lady was quite small, therefore she was adjusting the stool on which she was standing all the time to be able to stick those needles where she needed. It looked pretty random. I was amused as I was sure this suspicious lady was a mere charlatan and that Doctor will have to find a proper specialist instead.

The moment she started nailing the roof down on me, fun was over. This new specialist will have to undo this…

But to my wonder, the small lady did have a clue about her job. Still climbing up and down vigorously, vanishing for few minutes and returning back in a hurry with particular patches… Suddenly, it was all over. Finished. Finally, I had a new convertible roof. Neat, authentic, in light tone, but most importantly – brand new.

And finished in a most professional and admirable fashion, just as it should be. Well, I admit: In the very moment I had seen the result, I apologized for calling her a “charlatan”.

My goodness, that might have been the worst 24 hours of my life, and I’m no juvenile. And it all started in such a pretty fashion...

My patience paid off. I was standing in the middle of the paint shop, coated with a unifying white primer base, waiting for the longed-for yellow top layer. As I noticed the “artist” mixing the right shade of yellow in the preparatory room, I nearly stopped breathing. It has come! THE moment I was dreaming of all the time! I am becoming a stunning, smooth yellow coat as the final layer. Big moment.

When the door closed and I felt the first drops of spray landing on my bodywork, I almost fainted. The “artist” was spraying the paint to every little corner of my bodywork. Once he was finished, I found myself all alone in the paint shop. Only then I decided to examine the result. Oh hang on! Something is wrong. Veeery wrong indeed! Why am I wearing this hideous green colour instead of yellow? Who or what spoiled it? Heeeelp, I  don’t want to be green!

I felt like shouting, kicking, crying... In the end I did nothing – it’s that I’m a car – no one would eventually notice. Few very confused hours later, the „artist“ returned, again dressed form tip to toe in white, holding firmly the spray gun. He started all over again with spraying yellow. Well after this attempt I was definitely more yellow than green, but still only sort of yellow-ish. Something was surely missing. And it didn’t take long to figure out what it was: the third layer! After that one, I was as yellow that no other car was yellower in that moment, I’m the yellowest!

The Doctor appeared. After the initial inspection he remarked that I look like a cute yellow honeybee, only black stripes are missing. So he ordered him to spray them.

WHAT? A honeybee? Me? Is this some sort of silly carnival or do they need me to market honey while driving around? And I don’t think I have the proper looks of a bee, only perhaps of some wrong-gone Chernobyl version. And they left me with these thoughst alone again. All night long. A night of nightmares starring a giant bee, too big to sit on any flower, ruining every flower bed it visits.

To be honest, that was the longest night of my life. When the morning kicked in finally and the “artist” appeared with a spray gun in his hands, I wanted to put that gun into his… Away. He started. But there were no black stripes, only a perfect final layer of clear coat. It enhanced the yellow and I was shining.

After drying one more round of grinding, although this time it was more like caressing, and vey last layer of clear coat. DONE!!!! Gorgeous, everything was gorgeous! I am gorgeous! Excuse my boldness, but it’s true! Indeed, I am beautiful!

Here we go. I’m totally ready to get a paintjob, finally. I can’t wait. This means reaching the beautification stage at last.

As I mentioned in the previous story, they brought me back to the body workshop to check and eventually re-adjust every gap and align all body parts, mainly those which open, to fit 100%. Adjusting it after the paintjob would be a renovation suicide.

Once the maximum level of precision was reached, I was transported to the paint shop, with the sound of fanfares of trumpets playing in my head joyously. I thought the next day I will become bright yellow. ‘Patience‘, I kept repeating to myself. I can wait, I can wait... No I can’t! I want to be completed badly and the yellow paint is the last big job. I need it NOW!

After I landed in paint shop, the painter - or why not call him an artist - started doing his job. However it somehow dissapointed me that there was still no yellow paint involved. First he was watching me closely; perhaps too closely. He observed every single curve, gap, lines, to all of which he was applying a ruler, drawing some strange marks all over me. Why is this guy hesitating? I’m ready, he should be too!

Instead, he started with applying very thin layers of a filler. It didn’t make much sense to me: first he applied it all over me in a chaotic manner, and then he was sanding it with a smooth sand paper for ages until it was nearly all gone. What a silly job.

Once the „artist“ finished this, it was time for the primer. Once it was done, I was all grey and dull. But this wasn’t the plan – where the heck is my yellow??!!??!? And again, lot of sanding, there were areas where the primer disappeared completely. But I finally started to get the whole idea: it all led to perfection. Well I can always approve that! Impeccable, smooth perfection I have never ever even dreamt about.

I promise; I will be patient and wait, this is clearly worth every penny!

Taaa ta ta daaa! Taaa ta ta daaa!... Quite likely you didn’t guess from my engine singing that this was Wedding March, or did you?

No, I wasn’t at a wedding. But there was one wedding taking place in the workshop. A particularly important one. The wedding  of my chassis and my engine. That’s how they call it when putting together new cars, but technically speaking, I’ll be like-new, so I had my wedding once again. The original one ought to be platinum already, as we’re talking 80 years here of a very happy marriage. As much as I can recall, it has been a marriage with no fights whatsoever, although I must admit there were some ups and downs, but that was only because of bumpy roads.

Anyway, whatever the name of the anniversary - platinum, diamond or plutonium – what only matters is that it was MINE and now my bodywork, even though still with no paintwork, sits proudly on the chassis and they form now an inseparable couple. Their temporary separation, though involuntary, has been very beneficial for both spouses. Last thing to do is to grant the bodywork lovely new yellow clothes, decorate with chrome jewellery, insert leather seats and there we go! And then... You probably know by now what I’m about to say, as I keep babbling about it over and over. You guessed it, hooray on the road!

Before the paintjob, the is another job to do: align all gaps to be absolutely even and thus perfect, and that requires me returning back to the bodyshop for a while. Next time, I’ll tell how it went.

           
No plans for another wedding in my case, but I’m more than willing to take part on one as a wedding car – after all, brides are so beautiful!

Eureka! I’m alive! The surgery was a success, the patient is well. Even more, he’s bursting with life! Thank you, guys, thank you, Doc, thank you all!

You cannot imagine what a fantastic feeling it is, to be listening to the delightful sound of my engine. Listen… If Mozart would be still around, for sure he would make it into a symphony. And it would be an easy job, as to me, it already sounds like a delicate music. I could be listening to these heavenly tones for eternity. But that’s impossible, as the fuel level in my tank allows only few short test runs.

Now, after this sudden rush of emotions slowly fades away, let me tell you the whole story. Trust me, as usually, it was anything but easy.

Last time I told you that the engine sits perfectly on the chassis and waits until the rest of peripheral parts is installed and working – fuel pump, carburator and water pump. Then it was just about connecting the electronics in order to make it work to the swiss watch level of perfection.

So there you have it. The big moment.  All systems ready… Get set… Three… Two… One… …nothing. Pump some more gas and again… …nothing again. Once more and still nothing! Fuel pump – check, carburator – check, even the sparkles were checked. All seemd to be working fine. After the engine refused to start even with gas being poured directly into combustion chamber, I started, but only falling prey to despair.

“Let’s check the order of ignition cables,” proposed one of the guys. So a very clever book about the maintenance and repairing of the Lincoln model K engine was brought on scene. It all matched the scheme in the book. But one of the guys was still suspicious. He found his notes, where he marked the original setting before it was disassembled. It was completely different!

So the cables were rearranged, again a moment of silence… And start. It was smooth and immediate, as it would be turned off just moments ago. Fantastic!

After some warm-up, a small problem with cooling popped up, it was the water pump. So it was taken out and checked for any faults. Guys managed it, produced a special bespoke flange and the pump has been happily pumping ever after.

This time it was finally flawless. Pity, the whole bodywork and seats are still missing, so I cannot have a ride… But it will come soon, nothing can stop us now!

To be or not to be? Shakespeare aside, you just cannot imagine how often I keep asking myself this basic question.

You may be thinking, what a nonsense – if I’m able to tell this story, by logic I must be alive. But you see – this applies for humans. For cars, things are a little bit different. A car lives unless the major part of it survives. But in such case it’s literally more surviving than living. Life in its fullness starts when the engine starts, the gear is shifted and...

The wheels gently rolling on the tarmac, the wind leaning on the windscreen, petrol going through my veins, elevated heart beat... And on top of that sweaty hands and peaceful smile of my driver. Easily bouncing through the corners, mildly gasping for breath during hillclimb and blissfully resting on the way down. How I miss all this! Perhaps all it requires is to be able to move on my own, finally, just few yards (or meters, as they round these parts). Just to feel that I actually live, not merely survive. I struggle to remember how it’s like.

I think I owe you the explanation for my pathetism.  Last time I mentioned that my heart – my precious engine – underwent a complete renovation and guys have already mounted it in the chassis. I reckon that long-anticipated day is approaching: my 12-cylinder heart will attempt to start and run.

Will it work? If so, will it be running so quietly as in the old days? And will it be as strong? And how about charging, cooling and pumping fuel from the tank? So many questions, yet not a single answer. But that day when I find out is coming, I’m 100% sure. I can’t estimate whether it’s tomorrow or within few weeks, but it WILL come.

The best thing about life is to live it in its full, not only dreaming about it. To live my life will be beautiful again, soon!

Boom boom. Boom boom. Boom boom. This is how your heart beats, dear humans. I better don’t make an attempt to reproduce the sound of my heart beat. It beats much faster, anyway, sometimes even like 4000-times per one minute. I’m telling you, it is delightful. However the truth is, even though it’s been quite some time since the last time I heard it, admittedly, it’s impossible to forget it.

For some time, the works on my precious twelve-cylinder heart are progressing well. And it’s one good job, as this is the most important element of any car. Perhaps except for wheels. Anyway, after the removal from the chassis it was already clear that a full restoration is the only answer. On one hand my valves were burnt and the exhaust pipe was hit heavily too. All expectations were confirmed when the cylinder head was removed: especially the left-hand side have had some hard time.

The removal of pistons followed, together with the decision to have them recreated. Easy to say, but it can give you some headache to find a capable guy. My doctor managed to find one. The engine block was cleaned then. What a horrible piece of job that was… Guys had to do it like five times until they removed all the dirt. One of my previous owners filled my engine with some horrible sh!t, very likely to quiet down my heart beat. I suspect it was the same artist which fixed my gearbox in a similar fashion.

Thanks to this “very special” treatment guys were forced to use very sophisticated methods to remove the flywheel. Pins which hold the flywheel were glued to death. A pair of removal tools was destroyed until the pins have finally loosen and the flywheel was free to be removed.

After the fine cleaning followed the re-boring, connecting rod boring, re-fabrication of valves, renovation of valve seats, crankshaft grinding as well as cylinder head alignment. Once everything was put together, the engine was ready to be fitted back onto the prepared chassis.

The rest of the engine ancillaries were already renewed – they just needed to be removed from that shelf, where they have sit and waited for this moment. And it has come. Starter, DC generator, copper coolant pipes, fuel pump, exhaust and intake leads, as well as refurbished carburetor all went finally back to their original positions.

Once everything was ready, the D Day has come - in other words, the operation of bringing the engine back together with the chassis. I was seriously worried about the outcome but it went really smooth and it all clicked on the very first shot.

The operation has been successful; however the patient is yet still to be brought back to life, by actually starting the engine. I hope it will go well and my heart will start pumping again joyfully!

As everything must be flawless, the electrical wiring was no exception. Just imagine how embarassing I would appear, all shiny, glittering with engine bubbling calmly, however with malfunctioning lights, mute car horn or no interior light. Oh no. Fortunately, guys share this opinion with me and the entire electrical wiring was carefully renewed.

That meant above all to clean everything thoroughly, check all relays, fuses and of course, recondition the dynamo – i.e. to replace carbon brushes and check all sections.

The most important for the entire process of renewing the electro wiring are naturally the wires themselves. Without them, the current cannot reach the ligths, car horn or interior light. It filled me with joy seeing all those beautiful colors! You should have seen it! Red, green, yellow, blue... And on top of that, they were are precisely the same as they sould be – cloth insulated, not like nowadays, all covered in plastic. There is no chance I could have been equipped with something like that – back in 1935, they didn’t even exist.

Don’t think it’s an easy job to be acquainted with all those wires. Which is which? What should be connected where to make it work? The crucial job was to get the electrical diagram. Not that it would make it an impossible task without it, but it made things way less difficult. Doctor had to put lot of effort getting it, but thanks to contacts in National Digital Public Library of America it was successfully found.

This made the job pretty easy. It incorporated for instance measuring the correct lengths, marking the colors in the diagram and even to install some new ones for a pair of indicators. No, I’ve never had those before, but they are required for being allowed into traffic and for the approval from the technical committee of historic automobiles.

Today, I have all wires nicely tied up in bundles, most of them covered in authentic cloth insulation. Some of them already have connectors installed, others don’t. It’s because they need to be cut for the correct length once the electrical devices are being mounted on.

But that will be one of the very latest phases of my completion. I already see myself flashing and honking out of joy!

Do you like dentist appointment? I doubt anyone would answered yes. The guys have seen my teeth and the outcome? I was more than happy! To make things clear - the had a look on the teeth in my gearbox.

And there was plenty to look at and worked on. Long time ago, one of my previous owners poured into my gearbox some sort of a special super-gluey liquid. It was meant to prevent the noise from bearings. In this direction it helped, but all the holes which allow the oil to flow freely through the gearbox were blocked. To be honest, this repair session started much earlier, but I felt slightly embarrased as they soaked it out from me. But it didn't help. The guys have tried various sorts of dissolvents, ultrasound, gasoline and so on. In the end, they were reduced to the last possible solution - to remove that stubborn sticky dirt mechanically. Easier said than done. Some parts even required builder's tools - like spattle and chisel. Other parts only needed a thin wire and a small brush.

Once everything was nice and clean, the operation Bearings Replacement commenced. Well, it was an easy job - Doctor ordered a set of new bearings from my country of birth, USA. Reassembling seemd to be much more tricky - I was worried whether guys noted down everything correctly and if they would be able to put every little gear wheel into its original position. I don't want have a screw loose or something... But the patience pays off and the result was 100% all right. The cherry on top was the gear lever mounted atop.

Last thing to do was to install the gearbox back into the frame where it belongs. I was not being of much help to guys. During the fitting of the rear axle onto the leaf springs, everything was was moved back few inches and therefore it was not possible to fit the gearbox on its place. The guys were forced to use coercive measures in form of strong belt ratchets. They allowed the rear axle to gain those missing inches towards the front and the gearbox finally clicked into its assigned position.
 

Apart from the gearbox, the guys have achieved something incredible - they managed to straighten out my wheel covers, simply said hubcaps. They were in appaling condition, but now once they get re-chromed, it will be a no-compromise addition to my lovely new wheels!

Guess what I got! A beautiful set of new wooden floor panels! This includes a front piece, which will soon support the feet of my new driver and his passenger. Can't wait! All these panels were coated with thin felt. It's to prevent the panels from imprinting any marks on my frame, and also to avoid squeaking noises. A good car must not squeak. It would ruin its dignity.

The boys began moving everything to a winter-workshop and they started with me. About time, it's getting really chilly in here. However, once they tried to move my chassis from the place, I was stuck. So they spinned each wheel separately in order to find out, which one is stopping me from any movement. It was found almost instantly. It was necessary to unplug the front brake cables - and I was free to move. This allowed me to be loaded onto a trailer. While being transported, I created for myself a magical illusion, that I drive. I loved every bit of it.

The place, where I ended up, was not new to me. It was the very same garage, where they started working on me. That cocky Frenchy, with whom I was transported from England, was no longer there. The place has changed slightly - all tools are nicely arranged and some beautiful new working tables have been added, which carry many of my parts. Things are moving forward and that fills me with pleasure. It also means, that next month you can expect lots of news!

This month, it seemed that all the effort was focused on my bodywork. Guys called it pre-final assembly. I don't follow it too much, but I guess it means that all the parts are going to be mounted on me, doors are adjusted and aligned and the fenders together with all trims are installed on their places. And all this happens before the paint job is done! For me, it was a mystery, but I heard someone explaining that all this is to prevent any damage to the lovely paint finish which I will one day receive. I know it happened to one of the cars in the garage. It was the black Cadillac - they mounted all these trims and chromes when the paint job was already finished. It was therefore necessary to wrap the trim components with cloths to avoid scratching the paintwork and also to avoid cracks on the chrome parts. But all this will follow only once I have my heart back on my chassis, or as you may know it - the engine. And gearbox too, without it I'm unable to move at all.

However, something has been painted anyway! Well, so far only on the inside - my wheel wells were undercoated nicely to get protected from gravel rocks. Of course, this needed to be done also before the paint job itself, which may get contaminated otherwise. And I wish to be a spotless car!

I've got brand new floor panels, including the insulation. All my wooden parts were covered with felt around the edges, just as they were back in 1935. This is to avoid any unwanted schrunchy noises. What a smooth ride that will be!

What I was most afraid of was my new heat insulation of the engine compartment.

Originally, what I had there was a coir fibre. But where to get this these days? The doctor said, none of his contractors can help, they only shook their heads no. I was getting nervous, because I really wish to be in original condition. I don't want any of this modern stuff, I'm too old-fashioned for it. However, one day the door opened and I saw guys smiling widely. They were bringing me an authentic coir rug! One of them went shopping together with his wife, to a big garden centre, only to discover this coir rug. His trained eye has immediately detected the much needed material for me. After some adaptation, it was ready to be used.

I don't really know, why everybody around me dislikes shopping with their wives. Thank to this "wife" - whatever it may be - I have new, very authentic insulation. I'm still not sure what a wife is, but I feel thankful to all wives now.

I've got my wheels back! Guys have successfully mounted the rear axle on me. It may sound easy, but in fact it was a little bit more tricky. To be honest, it made me rather nervous - what if I move during the procedure and ruin everything? I was worried mainly about the new colour on my chassis, which could be easily damaged by any silly move. One wouldn't say, but that beastb weighs nearly 100 kilos! Fortunately, guys are very careful and the operation went more then well. So, my old wheels are back with me, but it's still a long journey until I will drive again on my own.

Luckily, I'm pretty good at enjoying the little things in life. It's always a huge pleasure to see one of the guys picking up a random old part of mine, have it cleaned, repaired and put in the special shelf with all the other restored parts. That's where they all await the day when they're going to be mounted on me. It's a real joy seeing how the number of them increases nearly on a daily basis.

I'll tell you one thing - it doesn't need to be always such a serious business. We can have fun, and you bet we do! Like this time, when guys had the job of renovating all my screws. For them, it was slightly surprising in what a lovely condition they were, but not so much for me - good old American quality lasts for ages. So, they quickly concluded that coating is all what these screws needed. I think they called it galvanization using zinc coatings. So they collected all of them in a big bowl and took them away for the treatment. Only few days later the big bowl was back in the workshop. It really moved me, my screws looked just how they did during my very early days in Detroit! And now followed that fun I mentioned earlier: all screws needed to be sorted. How can I describe it... Ever heard that fairytale about Cinderella where she was forced to pick up lentils? That's what this was all about, with the only exception - not a single dove had arrived to help the poor guys. Not only that - there were few screws which went missing - most likely they "vaporized" during their treatment at galvanizer. My only hope is that guys didn't put unconsciously anything made from aluminium into that big bowl for galvanizing - that part would  literally vaporize into nowhere - just during the acid bath stage. That would be the last thing all of us here in workshop could desire!

We are having proper dog days outside and the time crawls. The guys are more away then present, it's called "holiday". What the hell is it? If it means chilling and idling, then I'm having this holiday for quite a number of years and I'm not enjoying it. I want my holiday to be over! I want to drive again!

Despite the holiday season, some things have progressed. For instance, my front axle is back on its place. I am not able to steer it though - my steering wheel is missing. But in no time, I'll be back on my wheels again. Being placed on four axle stands is far from good. Do you think I'll need to learn to drive after all that time? Can one forget it? People say it's just like riding a bicycle - you never forget it. But the trouble is, I have never ridden one. I knew few of these bicycles, they are very primitive... I mean simple. I can only hope I have not forgotten how to drive.

The biggest news is my heart, my precious engine. It was fully dissasembled, new pistons were manufactured, cylinders were rebored - that's for the pistons to fit perfectly. Piston rod bearings were replaced by new ones and the crankshaft went through regrinding.  The valves needed to be replaced too, especially on one side where they were burnt beyond renovation. If you found yourself lost during reading this paragraph, don't worry, even I have trouble understanding all this. What only matters is that the engine will be soon like new.

My favourite shelf has a pair of new increments - a renovated electric starter and a dynamo. The guys have cleaned them, replaced the bearings, checked the windings and resealed everything. Both starter and the dynamo must however wait until the new wiring is installed and the engine back on the frame.

In the body shop, my bodywork is getting ready for the paintwork. First the primer is applied, which is then sanded, then follows the base coat. After that, the body is mounted back on the frame and all fenders, doors, trims are aligned and justified. This job requires a ton of patience and can take up to few days. Once all this is perfect, the final coat is sprayed. I still don't know, what colour it will be, but what matters the most is that it's beautiful and shiny - just like in my dreams.

Aaand I nearly forgot to tell you about my new fuel tank. Well not literally new, it's the good ol' one, but it was opened, cleaned and a few baffles were replaced.

...which reminds me of how I love the smell of gas!

We had a very serious, and above all very colourful inspection visit. A beautiful green grasshopper wandered into our workshop. It jumped into every corner, perhaps to check that we're doing our job properly. Fortunately, I speak some of Grasshopperian language, so I understood from its happy "chirr chirr" that it was more then satisfied with the outcomes of the inspection. And then it wandered off - no bye-bye, nothing. Not even an official record...

I believe that the grasshopper must have noticed the shine of my new chassis! Boys have sprayed it with georgeos black shiny paint. It glistens beautifully, I even think it's better then the original. It is quite possible that my memories are slightly faded. But do not think I don't remember it! Even though my age is well advanced, I don't suffer from any form of sclerosis, oh no!

Boys commenced working on my leaf springs. It was a surgery, literally. There were moments I just couldn't watch. There was no blood involved even though cutting was inevitable. My springs has always been wrapped with aluminium plates. These plates were far behind their heyday. It was absolutely necessary to have it replaced.

First, it began with the above-mentioned cutting - boys have splitted all parts with one clear, even cut. Then they cleaned my springs from dirt and grease and manufactured a new centre bolt, which holds all leaves together. An old cloth sack was wrapped around the springs to avoid any unwanted noises when driving. Then they manufactured new aluminium parts, which were enwrapped around the springs with the help of a hammer and few clamps. A masterpiece. I was really proud of boys in that moment. The only thing left was to coat them, first base coat, then clear coat (and never otherwise!) to match the chassis. Editors from any fashion magazine would definitely approve that.

As the springs are ready, my wheels can be finally mounted back and that will make me effectively driveable. Well, better said pushable, as the engine is still under renovation in a different workshop.

Boys repaired and finished many of my parts, and there was a number of new additions to my most favourite shelf cabinet. 

I cannot wait the time when parts start to disappear from this cabinet - not for the thieves, but because they will put back on me again.

After the removal of the engine and installing it onto a temporary frame, both axles followed. It was not a tricky job. Boys disconnected both springs of the rear axle, then the transmission and stabilizer bars, and within no time, the axle was out. With the front axle it was a similar story. Piece of cake.

Afterwards, anything what could be dismounted from the chassis eventually was. The chassis itself ended up in the blast room, where it was sand-blasted in order to remove rust and dirt.

It took only one day for the chassis to be back. Nice and clean. So it was about time to have it sprayed - first with the base coat and then with the shiny clear coat.

Meanwhile, some other parts of the chassis were sand-blasted and coated too. They even put together my brakes. Not just like that, but I was granted a set of new (brand new!) calipers. 

Along with all this progress, my bodywork was worked on as well. As I already mentioned, every layer of the paint was removed to the sheer metal in order to allow the rusty or damaged regions to be repaired. And they discovered one of my old sores - badly executed renovation of a nasty dent with at least a ton of body filler applied, in the area of rear bonnet. But it is OK now, boys have repaired it very professionally and replaced the damaged bit.

Do you have any clue what a fantastic feeling it is, getting slowly back into shape? Hell yeah!

You cannot imagine how relieved I am now. Some 20 years ago, when I was left abandoned in some yard in the middle of nowhere, there was a rat family which decided to build a home inside me. They behaved well, what only bothered me slightly was their obsession with supplies. Into their cozy nest, they were bringing nuts, small branches, pieces of clothes and other very necessary stuff (for them). Constantly. I was full of it. But I didn't care too much, because everything, what belonged to me, was left intact. Fair business. They didn't even touch my wiring or insulation. Only their small paws were quitely tickling while they were scurrying around.

One day, one of the family members deceased. The rest of the family left instantly, leaving all their belongings behind. After couple of years, it was clear to me they were never coming back. Their little apartment was only discovered by our guys, with all the stuff untouched, gathered around the remainings of the long-departed rat. Boys cleaned everything thoroughly, buried the rat (or didn't they?) and the era was over. However, it took some time, as the amount of stuff was really incredible. But, with the help of small shovel, a pair of rubber gloves and a vacuum cleaner, it wasn't a very difficult job in the end.

So, to turn the page, I still owe you some other news. For instance, my chassis and my body have been separated. The chassis was moved to the summer workshop, where it will undergo the process of total demounting to the tiniest bit. The body will be renovated as well - I will have every paintwork layer removed down to the metal, anything damaged will be repaired and then I will get the primer. But all of this will happen step by step.

When I mentioned tiniest bits, boys did really begin with something "tiny". My twelve-cylinder engine, my heart. It went very smooth. Boys have prepared a small temporary housing for the engine, so they can dismount it fully and renovate thoroughly.

What a glorious day it will be once my mighty heart is put back into action and I will fly through the whole world!

During the winter, not much was going on around me. I was just standing quietly and watching my buddy Cadillac getting completed. He looks fanstastic now and if this is what they can do, my excitement is now sky-high. I knew I was next, so I waited patiently for my moment...

That moment came finally in April. That was exactly one year from the moment they discovered me back in USA. It all started with a photoshooting session. Well, from the very first moment I felt like a proper movie star - not a bad start, for sure. I know what was the big idea behind that - these pictures will be archived for the time, when I'll be assembled back together.

A nice gentleman has turned up - he is responsible for my upholstery. It's him who will make a set of beautiful new leather seats and basically the whole interior. The colour has not been decided yet, but I believe it will be the same shade of brown which was there within living memory. Mr. Johnny the Upholsterer began to dismantle my convertible roof, with much care and patience. The old roof is so shrunken and rough, it's impossible to top it up again. Johnny was revealing layer after layer, all very carefully, making many pictures during the process, until he finally reached the wooden framework. Once he did, he had a doze full of tiny pins, which he took off the poor roof.

So the roof was gone now. We've been together through everything until now, but if it can be replaced by a new one, I'm all in. Next to go was the wooden framework. Then the interior - seats, carpets and door panels. All out. The carpets held together only thanks to the thick weaving - the original wool was desintegrated in million pieces. And then a small surprise (even for me) followed - guys have discovered an unknown small key under the front seat. It is very likely, that this key is a spare ignition key. No one ever needed it within those 78 years. But then, perhaps no one had a clue about its whereabouts, just like me.

Inside, all what has left were just plain wooden panels and the dashboard. It had to be first disconnected from the fuel gauge and engine temperature gauge with all the wires. And still, tons of pictures taken from every angle, twice to be sure. I hope that once all this is finished, I'll be photographed at least as much as I'm now.

And front seats, spare tyre holders, front fenders - all gone. The guys were happy that it went all very smooth - why shouldn't it? A car which was given such an opportunity to get a second life must cooperate! So I do.

Rear fenders followed, running boards and the entire cable kit. Even the small door from the golf clubs compartment went out, so did the front door windows including its mechanism. Removing the windshield was a tricky job, but I swear this was not my fault - the screws made from steel and the frame made from aluminium created an enormously powerful bond throughout all those years. Guys won this battle without hurting me. After all this, not much has left on me, but I'm glad - it's a proof that they are very serious about this. In the end, guys marked every single dismounted part, eventually made a note, and naturally attached that one million of pictures taken (no less, I swear).

I think I'm getting used to the flash of cameras...

My name is Lincoln. Not Abraham, just Lincoln. Well actually, I do have something like a surname - Model K, LeBaron. I was born in 1935 in Detroit, USA. I have had a wonderful life and served a number of owners. But that was what I call now my first life.

My second life began in April 2012. Until then I lived in California, where no one took care about me, nor did I drive much. They said my heyday is gone. But I still felt pretty young inside with healthy lust for life, pretty much the same way when I was freshly manufactured. It's a pity I didn't look that way anymore. My paintwork was heavily neglected, tyres worn, seats punctured and the poor engine was scraping the bottom of the barrel. But I was not frustrated by it, as I felt this was not the end.

In that April, it was the first time when Doctor came to see me. He was clearly a foreigner, that's what I get from his non-American accent, even though he spoke English pretty fairly. My mother tongue was English too - I spent all my life in the States. He was checking me from every angle, even under the bonnet and the chassis. It felt like at doctor's visit. That's why I nicknamed him "Doctor". He must have liked something about me, because in less than a month he was back buying me. I was relieved and happy, I couldn't wait to see my new home in a hope for a better life. This was my great chance to hit the road again!

It was clear that this new home was damn far away. Doctor mentioned a place called Slovakia. I had no clue where that might have been. One day, a big transporter arrived and took me into a dark warehouse. I wondered if this was that Slovakia he mentioned. But only there I found out that Slovakia is in Europe and that I must learn the local lingo. So I started to learn it. Definitely not one of the easiest languages out there! But I had plenty of time, because it took several days until they relocated me into even more depressive and smaller box. It was very tedious, all I heard was a very big engine running and I suspected we are surrounded by huge masses of water.

When they finally opened the box, I heard English everywhere. But the accent was very weird, however somehow natural. They called that place England. It was the birthplace of an old friend, a noble Bentley, I remembered suddenly. I waited few more days. Again, they loaded me on a big transporter. Two Frenchie cars joined me, but refused to talk to me. They didn't look their best either. However, I really enjoyed the trip - I finally saw this Europe and I liked it instantly. Europe is beautiful and I'm looking forward to drive its roads.

When we finally reached our destination and I was unloaded, I knew I made it. This was the place of my rebirth.