I’m not a country music fan, but I did grow up in the ‘80s. In fact, I was 10 when Kenny Rogers starred in the TV movie The Gambler. As a result, I still have etched in my brain the title song’s hooky chorus, which played in heavy rotation for much of my childhood:
You gotta know when to hold ‘em,
Know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to walk away,
Know when to run.
My problem, when it comes to project cars, is that I don’t know how to walk away. And I usually run to them instead of away. I’m magnetically attracted to damaged goods and I can’t help it. Because down deep, I see the potential that still lives in just about every sad heap that’s ever followed me home.
The low cost of entry is usually the temptation I can’t resist. Of course, even I know that it’s simply a starting point. It inevitably would be more affordable if I’d just bring a good example of the same vehicle instead. But that’s not how I’m wired. Where’s the fun in that?
You probably all have friends in your own circles just like me. The one with the savior complex, always trying to keep some wayward classic on the road rather than sending it to its death at the junkyard. And if you don’t think your group has one of these people, well, you’re probably that person.
As I’ve matured (allegedly), I’ve become better at letting things go. I have, indeed, brought home several vehicles with the sole purpose of stripping them of their valuable bits and sending the carcass to the scrap heap. I know that for many to live, some must die.
In fact, I’ve become far less precious about what qualifies as a keeper in recent years. Twenty years ago I saved a T-boned beige-over-brown 1984 VW from a rightful mercy killing. It would have easily been most people’s default decision at the time to collect scrap value for it instead. Today I might even be tempted to do the same.
I’m facing a similar dilemma with the Range Rover project I’m currently restoring. Many people have said I should just part it out and buy a cleaner example to drive and enjoy. The problem is every one of these old Rovers eventually has the same problems in the same places. To own a clean driver is a short-sighted deal. Mine was at least clean, complete, unmodified, and with low mileage for its age, so I’ll stick with saving it.
But who’s to say what’s right or wrong? The truth is, the calculus is different for everyone and every vehicle type for a given time. In the end, it’s up to each of us to determine whether the best value is in saving a survivor or mining it for its parts. One person’s numbers-matching rust bucket may be another project’s life line to completion. And the cycle goes on.
