Shock, Grief, Anger, & Acceptance. Finding Solace through Restoring a Piece of Family History.
Preface: My first post is about a man and his roadster. I begin with this chronicle because it provides a glimpse into my father’s interest in sports cars, which helps explain why I developed an attraction to motor vehicles at a very young age. It also includes an event that ultimately changed the course of my life in 2006.
Some of the writings on the car’s early history, as well as its paint and mechanical issues, are paraphrased from a letter my father penned in 1981. Unless noted otherwise, all of the images are from photographs taken by my father, mother, me, a friend, or someone in my family.
In the beginning …
Robert Evenson became seriously interested in sports cars around 1950 when he helped with security and traffic control for the original Elkhart Lake Road Races1. At 19 years old, he had the opportunity to have a practice ride in a 1.5L Ferrari and also to see machinery like Briggs Cunningham’s Chrysler-powered monsters2. One could say; Robert was hooked.
The Brit that looked like an Italian3
He was working as a design engineer for Trackson Company when, in March of 1956, Robert spotted a gorgeous, blue Austin-Healey 100 BN2 in the showroom of Wisconsin Auto Sales in downtown Milwaukee. He stopped by the next day; put down a $15 deposit and was soon the proud owner of this Austin-Healey. That transaction also included trading in his 1951 Ford 2-door sedan, effectively making the Healey his daily driver. And yes, he did live and work in Wisconsin, not the most hospitable weather for a year-round roadster.
After attending the 1958 12 Hours of Sebring, Robert started to think that (perhaps) he could become Wisconsin’s version of Juan Manuel Fangio or Stirling Moss. It took only a few races back home to convince him that he didn’t have the talent, equipment or finances to compete in the 2.5-3L class. This reminded Robert of the old joke about someone asking the racecar driver in the hospital, “What happened?” And the guy says, “People were passing me so fast; I thought I was stopped. So, I got out to see what the problem was…”.
While the Healey’s amateur racing life was short-lived, her days were not relegated to simply commuting to and from the office. She enjoyed extensive travel throughout Wisconsin. Robert had issues with the factory paint4 and ultimately had the car completely repainted (same Healey blue color), adding a US racing stripe down the middle. This all happened with the car less than two years old.
Robert meets his match
In 1958, Caterpillar5 opened a new manufacturing plant in the Chicago suburbs, and Robert was one of the Milwaukee engineers who transferred to this facility … with all his belongings in the boot (truck) of the Healey. It was at this new office where Robert soon met his future wife, Diana Dunn. As fate would have it, Diana loved sports cars also, and she took great interest in the small British convertible that suddenly appeared in the parking lot. Diana herself wanted a racing green Jaguar XK120, but her mother would not even allow her to get a driver’s license. Diana’s mother transported her to and from the office every day; her workplace was nearby. Being the keen observer, Robert took note and one day asked Diana if he could drive her home. Why, yes … yes you can!
The Courtship
Not only did the Healey have a new state to explore, but she also now had a beautiful passenger riding shotgun. Robert introduced Diana to picturesque Wisconsin, the joys of tent camping, auto racing, and other adventures. When the new 3.27-mile road course racetrack, Meadowdale6, opened just 27 miles north of town, Robert and Diana eagerly attended races. Living in Illinois also meant that Robert had easier access to margarine; he and Diana smuggled the contraband across state lines to his family in Wisconsin. To my knowledge, they were never caught by the authorities. I’m not sure how Robert’s dairy-farm-owning cousin felt about the margarine lawbreakers.
Robert and Diana wed on 29 August, 1959 and, not surprisingly, drove the Healey to Wisconsin for their honeymoon. They spent a few days in the Wisconsin Dells (with a side trip to the Circus World Museum – CLOWNS! – AARGH!) and spent their remaining time in the Door Peninsula, staying at Maxwelton Braes in Baileys Harbor.
The Evenson Family and their trucksters
Diana resigned from Caterpillar after the birth of their first child, Kevin, in July 1960. I joined the family in January 1963, and second daughter, Erin, brought the total to three sprouts in November, 1972.
Dad taught Mom how to drive, and she finally got her driver’s license. But that coveted green Jaguar XK120 looked eerily like a Corinthian white 1960 Ford Country Sedan Station Wagon. That Ford was ultimately replaced by a Jaguar that was a dead ringer for a Fathom blue 1967 Pontiac Executive Safari Station Wagon.
These cars (as well as a Yuba Gold over white 1976 Chevrolet Suburban Silverado) not only shuttled the family around town, but they also transported us on countless cross-country trips and impromptu adventures throughout the United States.
But, it was the Austin-Healey that played a prominent role in my earliest childhood memories.
And what wonderful memories they are …
Every weekday afternoon when we were quite young, Kevin and I stood in front of the large picture window at home, listening (with anticipation) for the distinct Healey rumble, announcing Dad’s return home from the office. I was maybe 3-4 years old. There was a controlled intersection about a half mile away, and we could clearly hear the different engine sounds as Dad shifted gears. It was a beautiful sound and may very well be the foundation of my lifelong appreciation for sports cars, especially vintage ones. “Sports Cars in Stereo” was also in the family album collection, which tells you how much we enjoyed listening to the “music”. I sometimes ponder the idea that gas-powered vehicles will one day be replaced by silent electrics. Hopefully, not in my lifetime. Hey, being old has its advantages.
There were Sunday morning doughnut runs. I like to think that this was every Sunday morning; however, it was more than likely once a month. Dad would give Mom about a 45-minute break by driving us kids over to the local bakery to pick up a dozen of the most incredible made-from-scratch, fresh-out-of-the-fryer, chocolate-covered cake doughnuts. My brother sat in the passenger seat, and I sat on “the hump”; my seatbelt was Dad’s outstretched arm.
I also remember at least one exciting return trip home from the local A&P grocery store, trying to outrun an ominous storm that was quickly rolling in. Dad figured he could drive home faster than it would take to get the hood (top) back up on the Healey.
The Healey was a symbol of adventure, strength, individuality, ingenuity, confidence, courage, and spontaneity. The Healey was my father.
Ever-changing priorities
Dad continued daily driving the Healey until a series of events forced him to garage the car in 1973:
- Illinois and Wisconsin weather and winter road treatments (salt and other chemicals) do not treat cars of this era too kindly. The lower sections of the doors and wings (fenders) started to rust badly.
- The clutch pedal started to go down when he applied the brake; investigation revealed the grease was not getting to both pedals. He oiled and greased everything, but it got worse; now, the brake was applied when the clutch pedal was depressed. Obviously, he could not live with his head hitting the windscreen every time he used the clutch; so, he (temporarily) tied a rope to the brake pedal. He would sit on the end of the rope to maintain tension.
- The coup de grâce occurred when someone cut him off at an intersection, doing a number on the Healey’s left front fender and headlight.
Dad had good intentions; he built a larger garage, got the Healey up on stands, acquired welding equipment, etc. Unfortunately, the poor Healey became the victim of priorities. Family and job responsibilities kept pushing this project lower on the to-do list. He joined a daily carpool to the office.
at-ro-phy /’atrəfē/ n. a wasting away or progressive decline in effectiveness or vigor due to underuse or neglect
She waited patiently to someday enjoy life on the road again. During this period of idleness, she provided shelter to untold numbers of cats, raccoons, squirrels, mice, opossums and the like, served as an additional cabinet for spare car parts, tools, and manuals, and also functioned as a shelving unit for plastic bins, stacks of boxes, books, camping equipment, scrap pieces of wood, and more. I wonder what she thought, as the days turned to weeks, months, years, and ultimately decades of immobility.
And then …
On a seemingly ordinary September evening in 2006, my father suddenly and unexpectedly chose to depart this world. How could that be? We’d talked on the phone just an hour earlier; it was no different than any of our regular weekday conversations where we shared highlights of our day. When I spoke corporate babble, oftentimes my father laughed and reiterated that he was sure glad he was retired.
Based on the wound, the nocturnist advised that my father was brain dead and would require life support to survive. Knowing this was against my father’s wishes, Mom and I took turns talking to him in the hospital throughout the night and into the early morning until he took his last breath. At some point during the night, I whispered to him the following two promises: (1) that I would take care of Mom and (2) that I would restore the Healey back to her glory days. Since my priority was to support my mother, I put my own grief and mental health on hold and did not allow myself to fully process what had happened. I appeared strong, but behind the façade, I led a dazed existence peppered with tears, screams, guilt, angst, and self-pity.
I’m not exactly sure where those years went. I do know my plans to move to Colorado were put on indefinite hold, and my career title changed several times, which meant more responsibility, more hours, more money, and a bit more stress. But work kept my mind busy. And when I wasn’t at work or thinking about work, I was making sure Mom kept active and engaged7.
While sorting through paperwork one day, Mom uncovered the title to the Austin-Healey. She gave the title to me with the belief that I was the only one in the family who would and could resurrect this once beautiful machine. My mother had no knowledge of the promise I made to my father.
Out of Sight. Out of Mind.
At the time, I owned a cute little 1954 bungalow. But since it had a single-car garage (I know…who in their right mind builds a garage for only one car?!), the Healey remained in Mom’s 4-car garage. The Healey title sat in a drawer in my house, along with the original bill of sale. My dear friend and lifelong Healey owner, Neil Anderson, thought I would be inspired to start the restoration by giving a copy of an Austin-Healey restoration guide to me. But alas, I wasn’t ready, and the book ended up wedged between an odd assortment of hardbacks and other paperbacks.
Time to fulfill the second promise
In May 2009, as I was looking at my shelves for possible books to donate to the city library, I saw the restoration guide and thumbed through a few pages. I was suddenly overwhelmed by emotions. I re-lived that night as if it was happening all over again (as I did many times before) and remembered my promise. I had the finances to complete the project (more on that later). If I procrastinated any longer, would it ever happen? I contacted Neil to let him know I was ready to begin.
Here’s how ignorant I was with regards to restoring an old British roadster or any car for that matter. My target was to complete the project by June 2011 so that I could drive the Healey to Colorado for the Austin-Healey Club of America national meet. AND, I estimated the total cost to complete the project would be around $20,000. I don’t know how I came up with that number, but seriously, how much could it possibly cost? Well, I soon found out.
Neil compiled a shortlist of potential auto restorers (people he knew personally), and we discussed the benefits and possible drawbacks of each. I wanted to be within a reasonable driving distance of the project so that I could visit on weekends to watch, take pictures, learn, and assist, if possible. My first choice was (the now late) Gary Olsen, who lived just 35 miles away. Gary worked a full-time job at the university but enjoyed restoring vintage cars on the side at his shop. He had completed numerous restorations for clients (including those outside the US) and had an outstanding reputation.
Neil also told me to brace myself because the restoration could cost $30-50K to complete. My heart skipped a beat, and I’m pretty sure my eyes briefly popped out of my head like some cartoon character. Holy smokes! (in truth, I did not say, “smokes”)
Neil brought Gary over to meet Mom and me, view the project Healey, and share photographs of his prior restorations. Little did he realize that I had already chosen him within seconds of our meeting. I immediately knew he was “the guy”. Gary shared that he had restored seven Austin-Healey 100’s (including his own) and that he didn’t think he would ever have an opportunity to restore another due to their scarcity in the area. I’m not sure who was more excited to start this project. Gary invited me to visit as often as I wanted and to help as much as I wanted. He even offered to give me a key to the shop so that I could visit if he wasn’t available.
Gary had one question for me: What is your goal for this project? I actually had two. I wanted the end result to be something my father would be proud of; however, I didn’t want the end result to be so nice that I would be afraid to drive her.
Gary estimated $62K to complete the project. By this time, I think I was kind of numb to the numbers being tossed about, but I was excited. I realize I could have purchased an already restored Austin-Healey for less money, but that was not the purpose of this project.
The resurrection
On the evening of 7 October, 2009, Neil and Gary arrived at Mom’s house to transport the Healey to (what Neil referred to as) the “magic workshop”. As she was loaded onto Neil’s rickety old trailer, I thought, “Oh dear … please let her arrive safely. She’s already been through so much.” And off they went into the darkness. Neil later emailed a picture of the Healey in her new temporary home with the line, “Just for verification purposes that we didn’t sell your car on eBay.”
The Magic in the “Magic Workshop”
From start to finish, the entire three-year restoration project was an emotional rollercoaster. Many tears were shed … sorrowful, joyful, and grateful. And … I learned how to genuinely laugh again. Gary loved life, was very funny, and had an infectious laugh. I visited his shop on weekends, with Mom in tow, as often as I could. We shared family stories with Gary and vice versa. We formed a strong bond.
Gary regularly provided updates and contacted me when decisions needed to be made.
- Did I want to keep the original part?
- Can it be refurbished or rebuilt?
- Would it be less expensive to purchase a new part (if possible) or try to find a replacement on eBay8?
The original engine9, carburetors10, lever shock absorbers11, horns12, and chrome parts13 were all sent to different specialists to be rebuilt or refurbished. At one point, there were parts in four different states.
The horns have an interesting story, as I wanted to keep the originals; however, the outer rims on both horns were terminally damaged and could not be restored. Neil found a correct set of original Lucas horns on eBay, and between the four horns, Lawrie Rhoads at British Car Part Restoration was able to rebuild two horns (one high and one low) using the best parts from each of the four horns.
Gary refurbished the original Bakelite steering wheel; it was imperative to me that we kept the original. To me, the steering wheel was the most personal component of the Healey.
I could write for weeks about how different phases of the restoration affected me in seemingly odd ways. One such example is the day the original paint was soda blasted off the individual body panels14. Watching the last bit of paint (which included part of the racing stripe) being soda-blasted off the boot, I broke down. My father added that racing stripe; it was such an identifiable element of his Healey. I felt like I was losing my father a second time, as if his connection to this car was being erased along with that stripe. That was, perhaps, the toughest day (emotionally) of the entire restoration.
A funny side story involving that racing stripe. I wanted the same stripe painted on the restored Healey. Unbeknownst to me, Gary had different feelings about the stripe and didn’t think it should be on the car. But since the paying client wanted it, he obliged and meticulously hand-painted that stripe. Months after the restoration, Gary shared his original thoughts, as well as how his feelings changed once he completed. He also confessed that painting that damn stripe was the most difficult and most loathed part of the entire project, as he was a perfectionist and wanted that stripe to line up across the front shroud, bonnet, rear shroud, and boot. Neil – equally obsessive (in a good way) – was also involved in this undertaking. I’m just thankful I was not in the shop while they were working on this phase of the project.
As the project neared completion in 2012, my fears about driving this beautiful car on public roads starting kicking in. I had the honor and privilege of meeting and chatting with former Austin-Healey racer, John Chatham15 at a gathering in Quebec. When my anxieties were mentioned, he said, “It’s just a car”. For the record, that statement did not calm my nerves one bit.
It. Is. Alive!
These days, I hold the same steering wheel my father did for close to 17 years. He may not physically be with me; yet, he is definitely with me. I know he cringes when I miss a gear. He smiles when we tear down country backroads. He chuckles when I almost stall the engine, followed by near-whiplash … leaving lots of rubber and making Mom squeal with glee. He’s proud that I’m finally not afraid to drive her and that I learned a not-so-pleasant day at the office is erased when you commute home in a sports car … especially a vintage one. Restoring this beautiful car ultimately brought us both back to life.
The Austin-Healey magnet. Bringing cars and people together.
- Elkhart Lake Historic Race Circuits, Road America History ↩︎
- https://www.briggscunningham.com/ ↩︎
- Many observers assumed its design was Italian when the prototype Healey Hundred was unveiled at the 1952 International Motor Show at Earls Court in London. But it was British designer, Gerry Coker, who conceived the body style. ↩︎
- If the sun came out after a rain, the water trapped under the tonneau cover would “cook” the paint, causing it to turn white. Robert tried all kinds of waxes and polishes, but he couldn’t get rid of the blotchy white areas. Next, of course, the paint started flaking off the joint between the steel wings and the aluminum, bonnet and boot. He ended up unbolting all the wings, cleaned off the corrosion, prime painted them, and coated the insides and the joint with a rubberized undercoating. ↩︎
- Caterpillar Inc. acquired the Trackson Company in 1951. ↩︎
- Midwest Racing Preservation Association ↩︎
- With regards to my siblings, both Kevin and Erin had different relationships with our parents. Kevin lived about 70 miles away, called occasionally, and rarely strayed outside his neighborhood. Erin moved to Brooklyn in February 2005 and visited on holidays. ↩︎
- Most Austin-Healey parts were ordered from Moss Motors with a few from British Car Specialists, and eBay (additional Lucas horns to complete horn rebuild). ↩︎
- Engine rebuild (Jerry Lemke – JAMR), engine fan powder coating (Neil Anderson) ↩︎
- Carburetor rebuild: Bob Johnson in Claremore, OK. It appears Mr. Johnson has passed away. ↩︎
- Lever shocks rebuild: World Wide Auto Parts of Madison ↩︎
- Lucas horn rebuild: E. Lawrie Rhoads at British Car Part Restoration in Medfield, MA. Mr. Rhoads passed away in 2020. Peter Gigliotti assumed the business hornandwiper@gmail.com ↩︎
- Chrome plating: Quality Plating ↩︎
- Soda Blasting: Soda Connection – Portable Soda Blasting in Kings, IL. It appears this business has closed. ↩︎
- John Chatham Cars ↩︎
Thank you so much for sharing this!! I remember this “car” Well and know how much it meant to your family. I was so excited when you had it restored,and I love the picture of you and your beautiful mother in it. Looking forward to your next section!