Resurrection of a Stag

Part 1: The Quest

The start of the story starts off on a fairly positive note. Without giving away much detail about upcoming writings, the "resurrection" is still conducting itself as a fairly positive ordeal. Like many similar brain damaged individuals (you know who you are), these installments are about a car owner, particularly one who enjoys cars that are made from a company that went out of business 17 years ago. Coming off a detailed restoration of my 65 Spit, which is coveted by my beloved wife Kathy as the thing she first noticed about me almost 19 years ago (I've owned the car for 20 years, longer than her!), a new project had to be sought out. While restorations tend to be a solitary experience, the first two obstacles of any project of this type were overcome. First, I had approval from the one person that would let me play and second, several thousand dollars of discretionary cash. This is the type of money that is not designated for home repair, orthodontia or for the possible use of any number of different durable good purchases. The discretionary cash fund held the many pennies retrieved from aluminum can collection, lunch money extortion and unwary computer users requiring the two bit cost of an errant piece of advice. So what would be the next addition to my stable of cars. I could get whatever I want as long as it didn't displace Kathy's stable of horses. So what to get? If we listened to everyone who owns a car from our favourite manufacturer nobody would own one. What would be better than to own a car from each end of the Triumph spectrum? The entry level Spitfire to the exit level Stag. Exit level since if you had one, you'd probably swear off British cars altogether. I found that there was such a love 'em hate 'em diversity about the car that it piqued my interest. Besides, I would have the potential of owning a car that is considered somewhat scarce, somewhat exotic with the SOHC V8 and somewhat cool looking, OK make that real cool looking. How hard could it be to whip one of these bad boys in shape by applying the fixes and repair knowledge expenence that eluded the first owners? Research about the car was done and it wasn't as bad (all in perspective, please) as it was made out to be so the search was on.

My job had me traveling to far away cities and sleeping in strange hotel rooms (not to worry dear, no strangers). What better way to spend time after working all day writing computer code and spouting network protocol jargon than to visit people you don't know in cities you don't live in and drive their sports cars. If you haven't tried it, you gotta, its a riot! Not all the visits were fun, there were some duds. It's amazing the value people put on junk and then with a straight face try to convince you of that value. Either your eyes tear up or you develop a cough trying to keep the emotional outburst from turning into an embarrassing moment. My target car was OK to have shaky mechanicals but had to have a 4 speed with overdrive and a body in solid shape. Found a good one in Dallas Texas, but I snoozed and lost that one by two days. The search continued on for several months when I got a call from a engineering buddy, Alan in Connecticut. He said there was a friend of a friend of a cousin who's uncle had this sports car for sale. It was some Triumph that didn't have a number in its name but it started with an "S". It was probably a Spitfire that some knucklehead was getting rid of. Nonetheless I got the number and gave the guy a call. Anyway the number had a 212 area code and more specifically an address on Park Ave in New York City. What would a guy on Park Ave be doing with a Spitfire? Well it wasn't a Spitfire but a 73 Stag that met my initial requirements and this guy was some big time doctor. I called Alan back and since he was a Viet Nam veteran, I ordered him on a recon mission into a dangerous part of Connecticut. This mission would take him into areas where the middle class are looked upon as servants and any junk car costs $35,000 or less. Directions and addresses were exchanged and a fax was given itemizing a checkout list of things to look for. The mission debriefing was completed and it sounded like I might have run across a car that could have potential, given my buddy wasn't blind and mechanically challenged. The body was solid, no rust throughs, solid floors etc., minor damage to front nose of car (hit by snow plow). Mechanically, had not been run for two years. It was decided that if the good doctor wanted to get rid of his car, then he would accept my offer. Well my initial offer ($2500) was rejected saying that he had $30,000 into the car and had to have more. I said fine, my risk with the car not running is that the engine could be totally trashed and it would cost me 3 times that to get it running again. His counter offer of $2700 had my eyes tear up and a cough start. Here's a guy in a $4.2 million dollar house quibbling over $200, maybe that's why he has that big house or maybe needs the $200 for his discretionary fund. I reluctantly gave in o those demands and made arrangements to pick up the car the following Saturday.

Two phone calls were made, one to Alan in Connecticut to tell him I'd be at hs house around am Saturday morning. I heard him say something like "you are out of your mind" and said he'd be waiting. The second call went to my friend Jerry. I told him we have a road trip to go on next Friday and won't be back until Saturday night. "We taking your truck or mine", I said "yours" (Jerry's truck was much nicer for thee long trips). This type of activity is somewhat common in our circle of friends, the wives hardly ever ask "Why?" anymore. You see we've chased down several vehicle purchases from as far away as Arizona, so Connecticut's no big deal. Trailer, cashiers check, cash for food and plastic for gas, we left Friday afternoon at 3. Drove 15.5 uneventful hours straight to Alan's house in Connecticut. There we had a great breakfast cooked by his wife (she didn't ask why either), filled up on coffee and took off for the car.

I wasn't overwhelmed when I first saw the car. I was overwhelmed by this guy's 6 car garage and huge house. The car was going to need some work but it did meet the checklist I had provided for my friend. Instead of a super deal, it was downgraded to a great deal. I would be the third owner. There were some unexpected surprises. Sitting on the front seat was a large unused part in a plastic grease bag. This unused part was a brand new right side head, not just the head but valves, cam the whole thing! The complete head was worth close to $1000 alone. Could be why the car wasn't running? I was thinking I could part this car out and make money. There was also a box of assorted new parts that were in the trunk. Well the check was exchanged for the title and the car was winched onto the trailer and tied down. Time to drop Alan off and head for home

Triumphs have an aura about them. Remember that we had just driven a 1000+ miles with no problem, we drive 20 miles back to Alan's house with the Stag on the trailer and the right rear bearing on the trailer is smoking more than "cancer man" from the X-Files. Repairs on the bearing assembly commenced. Fortunately some new grease and proper tightening of the castle nut fixed the problem. Jerry and I headed west at about 11:30. Prior to the trip home, I had a chance to collect every scrap of repair invoice that the good doctor had stashed throughout the car. During the trip I tallied up his repair costs on the Stag and boy I wish I was his mechanic. He wasn't far off when he said he spent $30k on the car. I counted over $20k in repair costs. Albeit he was getting ripped off with $150 oil changes. More on that later. At this time post purchase dissonance is settling in and my neighbor assured me that the car was in good enough shape to warrant the trip and expense (good guy!). This started to dissipate even more whenever we stopped to fuel up the truck. Even trailed, the car always attracted several onlookers and many asked about what type of car it was and admired its looks. Halfway through Pennsylvania, the Triumph aura kicked in. It rained buckets all the way to the Illinois border.

Resurrection of a Stag, Part 2: The "Stag"mire Strikes Back. This installment covers the weekend spent on trying to get the car started after its long dormancy.

Part 3: Return of the Engi covers the complete overhaul of the Triumph Stag SOHC V8.