Several years ago, in India, there was a family, as told by my father, which had a 1938 Packard Eight. The car had not been driven for more than fifty years.  I decided to end the suspense, and went to meet the family. To my surprise, I found that the car was accumulating dirt.

Since the previous owner had died, I focused on meeting his son and heir. The heir already knew that I owned a 1939 Packard. He had a strong desire to fix his car in total. A splendid car of the Packard’s panache deserved tender loving care.

The current owner’s father had changed the car to a Super Eight engine with a left hand gearbox. A column shift was desired instead of a floor shift.

I decided that there was no point in even mentioning the car as a possible sales item. The son was focused on singlehandedly restoring the car to robust health. I was relieved; the car’s faculties would be maintained.

Fourteen years after my exodus from India, I returned to my roots. I was deeply curious to see what had occurred to the classic Packard Eight in the fourteen years since I had left.

Upon entering the location where I had first gazed upon the car, I was shocked to see a gigantic housing complex where the car once stayed.  I questioned the security guard about the car that had been stored in the garage and I was told it was across the street. The suspense was killing me!

It didn’t look anything like what it looked like before. The radiator and bonnet were entirely missing. The carburetor was not visible, and the manifold was exposed to the elements. I was reassured to see the starter and dynamo were there; however, the car looked like King Kong had a wrestling match with it, and King Kong had won! The interior floor and trunk floor were gone, and I could see the ground below the car in multiple places.

I attempted to compare the trashed machine before me with my memories of a black colored 1939 Packard, but I could not resolve memories with the stark reality.  Nothing of worth was remaining.

I ambled away immensely distraught and I then attempted to find the owner who I had met fourteen years ago in Hyderabad. However, I found that he, like me, had moved to the United States.

I visited the site once more a year later.  I found that the car had been pushed more to the side and a crane had utterly demolished the car’s ceiling. I was crying in fits and starts. Murder had been committed and I had to prevent further felonies like this.

I arrived at my house and telephoned the scrapped Packard’s owner to see if he was back from the US. To my good fortune, the previous owner came to chat with me. We decided to meet and talk about the car’s situation and prospects.

A pathetic tale was told, as the previous owner related how the car was shredded into parts in the hopes of restoring it. The trim was guarded by a buddy of the owners and was stored away. They just never focused on restoring the car apart from removing the paint.  He advised me that multiple hobbyists had asked to buy the car while it was in top shape and now not a single soul wanted it. Who could blame them? He said that the last person to consider buying the car was a scrap metal company and they were only offering a few bucks.

I quickly asked if he would give me the opportunity to restore it to life. A smile grew across his face. He enthusiastically said yes. A plan started to simmer in my mind, as I grew in excitement.

I questioned him as to where he had hoarded away the car’s trim. He gave me a list of associates who had taken most of the materials. I was told some miscellaneous parts may be lying around. So, I began cold calling his associates in the hopes of gaining allies in my quest.

Firstly, I moved the vehicle into a new location. The Packard I had at home and the Packard I was attempting to revive both had the same body. Thus, I began to use the same wheels and sidemounts for both vehicles.

Quickly, I had installed my Packard’s wheels on the scrapped Packard and an attached shaft. Proof of the car’s quality construction, years of damage at the hands of Mother Nature did not cause the car’s mechanics to get stuck.

A friend owned a Jeep SUV, and was helping to pull this carcass on wheels, hardly certain that it would go up to the hills where I lived. However, I was in a determined mood and civilly requested him to sit next to me while I impelled the SUV forward.

To view a once impeccable Packard devoid of its glory, and being tugged behind the SUV, was quite a sight. Without disturbance, we arrived near my house, yet needed more momentum to make it to the top of the hill.

The final obstacle was an almost vertical slope to my house, but this SUV just didn’t have the hor sepower to chug up the chill. However, luckily a throng of people had assembled to see the spectacle. Indian curiosity has its benefits. To my good fortune the crowd that gathered to watch helped transport the hulk of a car and almost instantaneously the Packard was in our garage.

Our “team” was getting proficient at this exercise, so subsequent ascents were even more, successful. I needed to combine the spare parts that remained. Thru a common childhood friend’s garage, we filled the SUV with bumpers, fenders, radiator, side wheel rims, and other miscellaneous parts.

My mother and father’s faces were enshrouded by a puzzled look when they viewed the junk arriving in their home. They must have been worried that their precious son had now finally gone insane. They didn’t want to discourage me, so they didn’t utter a peep. However, I was sure of what they were thinking, and it wasn’t good.

I must have spent a year assembling parts before I actually got down to repairing the vehicle. I have always had the desire to do renovation work on my own.  Besides, I was broke and unable to hire staff. I might have benefited from assistance, but I wanted to do the job at my own speed and with my own level of attention to detail.

Towards the end of the project, I disassembled the gigantic 327 cubic inch engine by myself, and carried the spare pieces into storage.  The valves were worn away along with the pistons, so I needed to utilize someone else’s aid to hoist the block into my car and move it into storage. The differential housing, front, suspension and gearbox went into storage as well.

Now, all that was left in my parent’s home was the body’s chassis.  With the aid of 15 workers, the chassis was carried on shoulders across the street to a new house. The damaged Packard’s body went soon afterwards.

It was the greatest experience any car enthusiast could ever have had once the parts were collected and assembled. Revitalizing a classic car and restoring it to its former robustness is a transcendental emotion.

While a car is a mechanical contraption, it can endear itself to you just like any hard won success does. Cars do have souls.

But the “cherry on the sundae” that tops it all off, is hearing a car fire up for the first time, and idle under her own combustion engine.  I emphatically insist that all car enthusiasts disassemble and restore an engine just once in their lives. 

I still have to complete the car’s upholstery. However, the journey has been long and adventureous, but well worth it.

By Raymond Sid

Raymond Sid is based and bred in Melbourne, Australia, and has been a Grand Prix race car enthusiast since his childhood. He owns an MBA and a web hosting firm in UK. His dream is to start his own race track.