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The Freedom of Owning a Crusty Car
The fluidity of language has always impressed me. That’s not to say I’ve always understood new usage of old words, or that I’ve agreed with each new entry into the vernacular. One example is “shitbox.” I know I’m late to the game on this one—the majority of car enthusiasts seem to have moved past the term. Only recently have I fully understood and embraced the harsh descriptor of the lovable junk that inhabits the driveways of many enthusiasts.
As “shitbox” rose to prominence, I rejected it. The term seemed to often promote the idea that a particular car was only going to be abused and discarded by its current owner. But some recent recurring problems with my 1985 Corvette are encouraging me to embrace its status as a “shitbox”—without that disposable connotation.
When I bought it, my Corvette wasn’t running, and multiple bits were broken and/or non-working. As I winched it onto the trailer that sunny Saturday afternoon, it was not a good car. But in my eyes, and likely in yours too, it was not junk. There was far too much potential. Before I found it on Facebook Marketplace, the car was running and driving. Suddenly, it had stopped doing both, and the owner had put it up for sale. Surely the problem that had turned the car into a rolling sculpture had a relatively simple solution.
And it did. Just charging the battery and unplugging the broken electric antenna brought the car back to running and driving status. Luck was definitely involved in that successful diagnosis, and there are still plenty of other things wrong with the black coupe: The exterior passenger door handle doesn’t work, the front air dam is broken, and the digital dash says the charging system is pumping 18 volts into the battery even though the alternator is very much not doing that. The question of whether it will start when I turn the key is best answered by a roll of the dice. Objectively, this Corvette is a pain in the ass.
I love it so much.
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There is freedom in owning a vehicle I do not have to care about. It’s not that I actively abuse the car, but I feel zero shame when driving it in Northern Michigan on the salted roads of early spring. The Corvette is just crusty enough that I want to use it rather than pamper it. Cars are meant to be used, right? If I had bought a nice Corvette instead of this one, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how it drove; I wouldn’t even be thinking about getting it out of the garage yet. I’d still be waiting on a few spring rains to wash the salt and sand from the roads.
While standing in the rain trying to find the perfect tension for a partially stripped and ever-aggravating side-post battery ground terminal, it hit me that I have the skills, ability, and budget to fix all of the failed or misbehaving bits of this Chevy but that, even if I addressed every last issue, my perception of the value or function of the car wouldn’t change. It certainly wouldn’t be any more fun to drive.
This failure of the Corvette to reliably ground the electrical system and therefore start consistently is something that will be fixed during the engine swap I have planned, but between here and there I feel oddly inclined to leave the problem be. Instead of replacing the battery or the terminal bolt, I carry a set of slip-joint pliers and just fiddle with the ground bolt when the car fails to start. (There’s nothing more permanent than a temporary solution.)
This Corvette reminds me just how good my luck has been with old cars in the last handful of years. Between nearly a dozen of enthusiast vehicles on two and four wheels, the largest consistent problem in my garage is a partially stripped battery terminal.
I know better than to brag about such things. This situation more or less boils down to luck, and with driving season right around the corner my luck is primed to swing the other direction. Problems will likely appear, and probably at inconvenient times, too. But this Corvette and its grounding issue have reminded me that regardless of what pops up, it’s likely something I can and will figure out. After all, if I didn’t love solving problems, old cars and motorcycles would be a strange hobby to choose.
‘ Jury Rigging ‘ is an almost completely lost and under appreciated form of art. ‘ Jerry Rigging’ on the other hand is as common as ever.
I appreciate this article. David Freiburger’s motto of “Don’t get it right, just get it running” really changed my mindset. They’re so much more fun to just enjoy with their flaws and all.
I concur, that hit home with me as well. And funnily enough, it’s with a crapbox Jeep TJ!
My first Corvette (1995) was 14 years old and had 10,000 miles on it – a brand new 14 year old car. I had it for nearly 10 years and even though it was a 3rd car it began to deteriorate. I could not bear to see it age and miraculously the girl I’ve been dating for the last 44 years agreed that we needed a new car. Now 6 years into the 2007 it, too, is beginning to show signs of wear.
This is distressing on one hand, but sort of liberating on another. It parallels my own realization of my own mortality – things are not going to get any better, but embracing the day has its own glorious rewards. Besides, I have way too many projects going that I will never die.
When I got my first one my daughter got me the t-shirt that says, “Yes it’s fast, No you can’t drive it.” 10 years later she gave me a coffee cup with the same phrase. Use it, enjoy it, drive it like you stole it.
To quote the inimitable Gray Baskerville, Beaters are Neater! I have a fully slicked out 67 C10, and it’s great. My oldest friend has a ’72 SWB C10 that is 3 colors, and a bit loose at the edges, but solid and safe and mostly rust free. Equal fun can be had in both trucks, and it seems like less pressure in the beater. Run it through the car wash and go kickin’ around town. I’ve had just as many experiences of people chasing me through traffic and coming clear across the gas station in the bomber as my slick truck.
Gray Baskerville! Thanks for that reminder.
Freiburger has it right, I’ve come to enjoy my cars MORE since I’ve understood that I’ll never have the resources to make them all perfect. Most of mine are almost as scruffy as this Vette. That said, the example you’re using here would drive me NUTS. Replace the battery cable already! I keep all my cars in “on the button” running order. Get in and blast off, not F around with pliers underhood every few trips.
You need to race LeMons with that Corvette, Kyle. It is a natural extension of everything you mentioned in this article. Racing in the LeMons series really exemplifies the freedom and raw enjoyment of owning, maintaining and racing an absolute crap can of a car that, despite its lack of pedigree and cosmetic challenges, can still be made to dice it up on track. I swear I have more fun in our 1963 4-door Valiant slant-6 ‘racecar’ than I would otherwise in any actual sports car. I often get so absorbed in the moment during my stints that I completely forget I’m racing a 1960’s grandma car and dicing it up with a 1995 Dodge Caravan – never thought I’d experience something like that in my life 🙂
There’s nothing more permanent than a temporary solution…As with most jokes, it wouldn’t be so funny if it wasn’t so true.
Yeah, just replace the cable. I have to ask, you DO know access to the battery area is through the side (I seem to recall 3 bolts held on body panel), not from above. Not trying to be a ‘know it all’, some C4 shop manuals didn’t tell you this.
Any explanation of the paint on the passenger door? Just perhaps a passenger got “sick” one night around 2am.
I have no idea why the paint problem is so localized. If I were smarter I would have asked the previous owner when I bought it. Maybe it sat near a garage window most of it’s life and thus got sun baked in just a specific area? Not sure. I am keen to try and dress that back up one day. Will be interesting to see if that’s possible without making it an obvious repair or just plain worse.
My first car was a 1958 MG Magnette. Need I say more? It was a love/hate relationship from the start that taught me so much about automobiles and automotive electrics. I learned how to tune SU carbs using a piece of garden hose and a screwdriver and how to use a multimeter in so many ways.
40F, light snow switching to rain soon. The Rochester, NY roads look like the main entry to Berlin in 1945. Of course the NCRS Top Flight 1995 Corvette is still under wraps. Show of hands please- The car has been flawless during five years of ownership, it gets driven 2,000 miles a year. I am 72 and thinking it is finally time to grow up and get a “practical” car. Have I crossed the Old Man Rubicon?? Writing this is cheaper than therapy. Thanks in advance.
Time to sell it to a young person like me (born 1962!) who will drive it…
@AG1962- 1953 to 1962 seems like a short range. I guess a lot can happen in that span.
I’m totally on board with a bit of a ratty version of a car you’ve always wanted to make the experience more accessible, but you lose a little pride of ownership along the way. I had similar intentions with an early fox body GT a few years ago. It was faded and a little worn out, but ran pretty good. I planned on just driving the snot out of it and letting the little things go. I think it was 6 months tops before it was painted, had new wheels, and had every piece of cracked/faded plastic trim replaced. I was happier.
As far as rigging things to work, its my experience with old cars that as you wait for one thing to be resolved, 4 more pop-up. It’s just a matter of perspective if you find this entertaining or not.
Just buy one that has a Salvage Title and has already been properly resurrected. It looks like new, but you don’t shed a tear over those inevitable dings, because you know it has already been through a whole lot worse.
Swap, swap, swap. Everyone wants to swap a Chevy. At least this is a Chevy. It is rare for motors from any major manufacturer to be complete crap and it is also true that they all have flaws. I have developed a near pathological hatred of Chevy motors, John Deere farm tractors, and Remington firearms just because so many think they are definitively superior products. Why not see if a 6.1 hemi or hellcat motor can be made to fit in there? It would be unique and insane to drive. Read the jay leno comments about his hellcats.
I’m sure a Hellcat could be made to fit, but with this being my first engine swap I’m trying to stack the deck in my favor to end up with a completed car rather than a tortured and frustrating Frankenstien’s monster sitting in my garage.
Basing your personality around hating things that are popular is one way to go through life, but it seems exhausting.
At the nieve age of 24 I purchased my first new car. I special ordered a 02 Firehawk just the way I wanted it. It currently sits with just over 8600 miles one i took delivery in June and by September of 02 I started my life of owning multiple cars, one always being a “crusty car”, aka Shitbox.
It is the most liberating automotive feeling in the world. Some have been genuinely nice cars. A few were even bought brand new, but with the intention of being daily drivers through new england winters. My current shitbox is not “fun”, but I love it. A 24 year old pickup that is more than presentable, nothing to be embarrassed by, but nothing I cringe over when it gets attacked by sand and salt on the highway.
I will probably never go back to driving something that would break my heart if it was damaged or started to deteriorate before my eyes. The parking lot at work is full of very new and very expensive BMW’s, Audi’s. Lexus… but the owners are always telling me they wish the had a “beater” to drive like my truck. Am I doing it right? Eh, who knows or cares right?
For less than $5.00 you could replace just the terminal bolt. After you scrape the green stuff off of the inside of the cable and you will be good to go.
I used to buy cars in condition similar to this, but as my budget increased through the years, I began to heed the classic advice to “buy the best car you can afford.” I still think that’s sound policy, but I have realized that when I buy the best, I drive it less. I can’t stand to watch a perfect car degrade as it inevitably will with regular use. There’s real freedom that comes from having a scruffy driver to bash around in and I’d like to get back to that.
I miss my old pink & red 1993 Toyota deluxe cab 4×4, 22RE 5-speed
305,000 mile
Go anywhere, park anywhere, no worries.
Should have kept it!
The only reason to get rid of an old Toyota like that is if rust finally finishes eating it alive. Otherwise they will run forever.
Had a regular cab ’92 Toyota that I was lucky enough to buy from the original owner in 2009. One of the best vehicles I’ve ever owned. That 22RE and 5-speed combination was fantastic. Of course, the black paint was falling off of that truck too. Never cared much and certainly never worried about it getting stolen!