Chapter 21. The Rookie and the Veteran Find Each Other Interesting
Chapter 21. The Rookie and the Veteran Find Each Other Interesting
“What do you mean by that, young man? You want to restore it together?”
The old man, Donnelly, turned his head toward me where I sat beside him. His eyes held a mix of doubt and concern.
“I mean exactly that. It’ll be hard for you to restore it by yourself...”
You’ve become too old and too frail to restore the Corvette alone.
I did not know how to say that in a gentler way. At times like this, I resented my clumsy way with words.
“Even so, I’ve got nothing I can give you in return...”
The old man’s face, already dark, grew even more shadowed.
Nothing he could give me in return.
Of course that was true. The idea that he had suddenly come into the money for a Corvette restoration, as he had mentioned earlier, had already sounded impossible.
There was no way he could afford to pay for my labor.
“It’s not that I want money. I just feel like I’ll regret it if I don’t do this.”
I meant it. It was the truth. There was nothing more to add, and nothing to take away.
Besides, restoring a Corvette would be a huge learning experience for me too. And to do it alongside a veteran with fifty years of experience? That was clearly a precious opportunity no amount of money could buy.
“Regret, huh...”
The old man lowered his gaze to the coffee cup in his hands and sank into thought.
A little later, when steam no longer rose from the cup, he slowly opened his mouth.
“Regret... I’ve had my share of it, and it’s a nasty thing indeed. I can’t let a young fellow feel something like that. Then... will you help me?”
The old man held out his hand. It was a deeply wrinkled hand, its joints jutting out sharply.
“We won’t be helping each other. We’ll be doing it together. Even if I say that, though, I’m still a beginner with a lot to learn. I’ll be in your care.”
I took the hand he offered. It was much warmer than the coffee that had already gone cold, full of the unmistakable warmth of another human being.
Early the next morning, Donnelly opened the shop doors. It was the first time in a long while since he had announced he was closing the business.
The metallic sound of the rolling steel door rising echoed through the still-chilly air.
He drew in a deep breath and stepped into the shop with the morning sunlight at his back.
It was a familiar place, one he had come and gone from for nearly fifty years. But the work he would begin today was something he had never done in all his life.
“So there are still young men like that in this day and age.”
At first, he had wondered what sort of ulterior motive the young man had. But the moment he saw the steady look in his eyes and felt the firmness in the hands they had clasped together, he decided to cast aside such doubts.
He may be young, but that was the face of someone who carved out his own life with his own hands. A man like that would have no reason to approach me with lies...
And in the worst-case scenario, even if it turned out to be a scam, it would not matter. If he could just drive this Corvette one last time, just once, that alone would be enough.
“Good morning. You’re here early.”
While he was lost in those thoughts, the young man arrived. In one hand he carried a medium-sized leather bag, and in the other he held a white puppy.
“So that’s him? The dog with no name?”
The puppy should have been squirming, but it sat there quietly, which made it seem like a remarkably docile little thing.
“Yes. I can’t just leave him by himself while we work.”
They had already decided to do the restoration at Donnelly Auto & Machine, which already had a lift and all the necessary equipment.
“There may be all sorts of dangers around here, so tie him up well.”
“It’s fine. He understands more than he looks like he would.”
Jason took a low cushion out of the truck and placed it in a corner of the shop, and the puppy hopped right up onto it.
“I’ll make the leash long enough, so if you need to do your business, go over there by those bushes. Don’t come near where we’re working.”
The sturdy man stood there with a finger raised, explaining one thing after another to the tiny little dog in front of him.
No matter how well the dog understood people, Donnelly doubted that would work. But the nameless puppy really did plop down on the cushion and quietly look around at its surroundings.
“Well, I’ll be. Isn’t that something.”
“Then shall we start by pulling the car out from the corner?”
The young man named Jason only said what needed to be said. Sometimes it came off as blunt, but it was so clear and direct that Donnelly did not mind.
Thump, thump.
How long has it been since I last saw it?
The cloth that had once been white looked as though it had been dyed yellow-brown by years of accumulated dust and sand.
There was no reason to hesitate now. No, there was no time for that. Donnelly gathered all his strength and swept the cover away in one motion.
Flap—
The heavy fabric slid along the body lines, revealing the machine that had slept there for so long.
Dust motes sparkled in the sunlight, making the reunion feel all the more dramatic.
“Oh... It really was a ’63 after all.”
Jason let out a breath of admiration as he looked at the revealed red Corvette.
After all? Had I told him the year yesterday too?
As he got older, his memory kept growing hazier. Then again, memory was hardly the only thing in his body that was failing.
“That’s right. First year of the second generation. Back then, this split-window wasn’t all that popular either.”
The old man’s eyes grew moist, as if he were seeing a long-lost lover again.
“I’ll start by taking a slow look over the exterior.”
After that brief exclamation, the young man moved right away. He was concise and efficient, like a robot following a fixed route.
“Hmm... The body’s in better shape than I feared, for starters. There’s some checking, but almost no places that are completely broken. The whole thing will need a full repaint, though.”
It had not even been a full minute since he started looking over the exterior. Even if he had only given it a quick once-over, could anyone really tell that much so fast?
Donnelly had no way of knowing whether the young man simply had sharp young eyes, or whether time itself just seemed to pass more quickly for him.
“It’s taken a beating from age, but at least it’s never been in an accident.”
The old man spoke as Jason lightly ran his hand over the surface in order—over the fender, along the upper part of the door, and then across the rear deck.
Tap, tap, tap—
A moment later, Jason knocked on the rear deck panel with his hand.
Thud, thud—
In an instant, he found a spot where the sound was different.
“The inner layup is a bit thin here. I think it was repaired once.”
What...?
Hadn’t this young man just said himself that he was a beginner? Then how had he found a spot like that in a single pass...?
Half doubtful, half amazed, Donnelly tapped on the body himself. Sure enough, only the exact place the young man had pointed out sounded distinctly different.
Now that I look at it, he seems especially knowledgeable about paint and bodywork. This young fellow is no joke.
This time, the young man moved to the front of the car, opened the hood, and looked into the engine bay.
“Ah... of course. Too good to be true.”
Disappointment slipped from his mouth.
The Corvette Donnelly had bought in his younger days had come without an engine or transmission.
But Jason’s disappointment was brief. Almost immediately, his eyes sharpened again, and he began carefully examining every part of the empty engine bay.
“Hmm, all the wiring’s deteriorated, so it’ll all have to be redone, and the corrosion... there’s some over where the battery used to sit.”
The body of the Corvette C2 model was made of fiberglass, which does not rust. But the frame, brackets, and other such parts were metal, and there was no escaping rust there.
Arizona’s dry desert climate had at least left the metal parts in relatively good condition for their age, but from the look of the area, it seemed battery acid had caused the corrosion.
“That’s probably because the batter—”
“I think battery acid leaked and caused the rust. We’ll probably have to grind this out and patch it.”
Before the old man could finish speaking, the young man had already recited both the diagnosis and the needed work.
“Then shall we put the car up and take a look underneath?”
The young man, Jason, turned back to the old man and asked in an even voice.
“...Heh heh heh, by all means. I’ll help however I can, so go ahead and do it the way you think best.”
It was not just the exterior. The way he checked the structural solidity inside the engine bay, and the sharpness in his eyes as he examined the exposed frame, were impressive.
He had heard the young man was not yet thirty, but the way he inspected a car was like that of a man with fifty years of experience. No, in terms of speed, he was faster than anyone Donnelly had ever seen.
He had no idea whether the world of car restoration had anything like a league system.
But if it did, then that young man named Jason would be the very definition of a super rookie who would change the landscape the instant he debuted.
Well now, to think I’d meet such an interesting connection this late in life.
A long smile spread across Donnelly’s wrinkled face.
There was surprise in it, and satisfaction, and even reassurance.
Is this what it would feel like to have a son? Or a successor?
It had been the first time since his wife passed away that the thought of working filled him with such anticipation and excitement.
“Mr. Donnelly, is this perhaps the right way to do it?”
“Mr. Donnelly, am I doing this properly right now?”
“Mr. Donnelly...”
There was just one thing.
Except for the young man’s bizarre habit of constantly calling out to him to check things—even while moving his hands with the skill of someone possessed by the god of mechanics—everything was perfect.
The moment Donnelly pulled away the cover draped over the car, it almost took my breath away.
That beautiful body line, blending straight lines and curves in just the right measure, was something modern cars could never hope to reproduce.
The Corvette in particular used fiberglass rather than steel for the body, which made those lines feel even more special.
Whew, a red Corvette. This is seriously incredible.
I had seen them in photos and videos before, but this was my first time seeing a real one—an actual ’63 Corvette with a split window.
I really did the right thing by joining this restoration.
Watching someone else work and learning from the process was a priceless experience in itself.
And if that happened to be a Corvette restoration with a veteran who had fifty years of experience, then all the more so.
At that moment—
[Would you like to register the 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray (C2) model to the Restoration List?]
A message window asking for registration popped up.
Yes.
[The vehicle has been registered to the Restoration List. Loading related information.]
Shrrr—
The vehicle information, now quite familiar to me, felt as if it were being newly updated in some corner of my brain—more specifically, in the area I could only describe as the [Automobile Manual].
I immediately used the appraisal skill that let me quickly determine the condition of a car’s exterior.
—————
Vehicle Exterior Condition: C+
*Body Material: Fiberglass (FRP) – No structural corrosion
*Exterior Condition: Loss of gloss, extensive front-end checking (fine cracking)
*Paint Match Accuracy: 72% – Partial repaint suspected
*FRP Stress Cracks:
└ Upper front fender
└ Upper door line
(Translator’s Note: FRP — Short for Fiberglass Reinforced Plastic, a composite material made of glass fibers in resin. It is light, corrosion-resistant, and easy to shape, but difficult to repair compared with metal panels.)
*FRP Repair Work:
└ Rear deck panel
*Oil/Coolant/Water Leaks: None
Visual Value Assessment = 69 points
—————
Sixty-nine points. For something this old, that’s pretty decent, isn’t it?
There were fine cracks all over the place, but I had already expected I’d need to go over the whole thing anyway, from the paint to the finish.
What bothered me more were the traces of repair work at the back. If someone had done a slapdash patch job, that could be worse than not touching it at all.
And the newly acquired skill for detecting leaks was actually displaying: No oil leaks, no coolant leaks, no water leaks.
No leaks in a car this old?
Was it because it had been stored indoors all this time?
I calmed my rising excitement, carefully unlocked it, and opened the hood.
But—
“Ah, of course.”
The place where its heart should have been sitting beneath the hood was completely empty.
There was no engine, and not even a transmission.
There had been no parts there in the first place for coolant or oil to leak from.
Even if we get a new engine and transmission, if they’re not original, the value’s going to drop a lot...
Matching production dates between the chassis, engine block, and transmission could easily change the market price by tens of thousands of dollars.
Still, what was missing was missing.
Since there was no engine or transmission in the way, I could lean my head into the empty space and inspect everything else closely for defects.
Just as Donnelly had said, the frame was very straight because the car had never been in an accident. There was some corrosion inside the engine bay, but it was minor enough to be manageable.
I’ve never done bodywork before—cutting out rusted metal and welding in fresh steel patches—but... this is my chance to learn.
And besides, standing right next to me was a battle-hardened veteran with fifty years of experience.
So then, next up, it was time to put the car on the lift—the one we’d be using here until the restoration was complete—and start tearing into the underbody.
Donnelly handled getting the car onto the lift with practiced ease.
Ah, so that’s how you support the points on a two-post lift.
I etched every one of his movements into my eyes and mind as though I were watching an instructional training video.
What was strange, though, was that Donnelly also seemed to be watching each and every thing I did with great attention.
Why is he looking at me like that? Did I mess something up?
Then again, to a veteran with that much experience, a beginner like me probably did look clumsy.
Thanks to my special ability, I had perfect command of things like manuals, but my actual hands-on skill was still far from polished.
A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over me at how confidently I had rattled off my diagnosis earlier.
So that was why he had just kept chuckling the whole time I talked...
I felt like crawling into a hole somewhere and hiding.
No. There’s nothing shameful about a beginner not knowing things. Opportunities like this don’t come often. I should ask lots of questions and learn as much as I can.
Maybe, after successfully restoring the Mustang and the Crown Victoria, I had started getting ahead of myself without realizing it.
I decided to return to the mindset of a humble student in front of a great senior.
From now on, for any task that isn’t absolutely basic, I’ll make sure to have the master check it first.
And when he answered my questions afterward with those subtle expressions on his face, it only confirmed my suspicion that there really had been parts of my work he had not found entirely satisfactory.
Yep, asking as I go was definitely the right move. A person needs to stay humble.
There was a long and difficult road ahead—everything from sourcing an engine and transmission to welding and restoring the fiberglass body.
But knowing I would be doing it with Mr. Donnelly beside me, I felt reassured far more than worried.