More Parts...More Elbow Grease

The '56 Fury used unique stainless steel and chrome trim both inside and outside, so I thought it important to retain these rare parts to accent the difference between standard models and the Fury.

The A-pillar trim is chrome plated so I'll have to send it out for re-plating, but the door frame trim is stainless steel, and despite the heavy rust I should be able to sand and polish them to an acceptable condition. I started sanding one part, but need to get some coarser sandpaper or it will take forever to cut through the rust.

Disassembling the Donor Car

The more I tear into the donor Fury, the more I find Mother Nature trying to beat me to the parts. I’m surprised the body hasn’t already broken in half. Knowing many parts are unsalvageable is helping me justify cannibalizing such a rare car.

Several mounting clips for the side trim were too rusty to unscrew and I couldn’t reach them with a cutoff wheel, so I did it the quick way and used a metal shear to open the fender like a sardine can. The metal was too far gone to be of any use other than small patch panels.



The passenger door would not open as neither handle would release the latch, so it also got the power shear treatment. I was able to access the latch from inside the door and after solvent cleaning and digging away the dried lubricant, the door actually works. I plan on using this door to engineer the bear claw latch and different door handle installation. I’m not sure which interior handle I want to use, but I like the looks of the mid-sixties Imperial handles. The plan is for power windows, so I don’t have to worry about matching handles with window cranks.

Waiting for Spring

While winter keeps a firm grip on the weather, I've been working in the house on a project to see if there is a way I can install a pushbutton TorqueFlite shifter assembly with a single cable to a later model transmission, and give it a close to stock appearance. Using a '64 Valiant shifter as a starting point, I quickly discovered that it's not easy, and undoubtedly someone would have done it long ago if it was.

It's not too difficult to figure out a basic functioning design, but the challenge is making it compact enough to fit behind the dash, rugged enough to take the beating of everyday driving, while trying to make it look like something that could have come from the factory.

Whoever designed the mechanical pushbutton shifter was an engineering genius. It's so complicated in movement, yet so rugged, it's amazing how they have survived more than half a century with so few problems. I only wish that at the time Chrysler would have had an automatic transmission that needed a park feature in the shifter.

At least the weather forecast looks good all next week with highs in the 60s, and 70s. It's about time, as this is the coldest, windiest winter in the eighteen years I've lived in Texas.

Fifty-five Years ago

The weather is cold and miserable, so I've not even bothered to warm up the workshop. Instead, I'm going to take a break from the Plymouth and post something from a blog I was writing in 2009. I think about this event every year, an even though I'm posting it a day late, I'm going to remind other old timers who might remember the day they said the music died.

"The first week of February 1959. The days are getting noticeably longer and the frigid North Dakota winter is showing the first signs of moderating. The February thaw, we called it. I’m a senior in high school…seventeen-years-old, know everything, and looking forward to graduation so I can enlist in the Air Force.

Our world consists of hot rods, Gidget movies, white bucks, Elvis haircuts, and cars with tail fins, but most of all, it’s the music…and then we were told the music died.

On the morning of February third, we awoke to the news that a private plane crash in Iowa had taken the life of Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Richie Valens. Fifty years ago today…my God, how time flies.

Besides the horror of those three young recording stars being killed, there was a personal insult to those of us who lived in North Dakota. You see, they were on their way to our state from Iowa. It was a huge event for a state that seldom attracted talent like that. We had even debated if we should try to get tickets for the concert, but Fargo was a five hour drive away. Winter travel was risky and it would have made no difference anyway, as the event was quickly sold out.

That night, all of “our radio stations” played the music the three young men had sent to the Top-40 charts. In shock, carloads of teens cruised the streets of our small town, listening to voices that would never again record the music we loved. We were a somber group and there were some tears, a few what-if’s, and lots of why's.

However, greatness can’t be destroyed by a plane crash, and neither can memories. Thanks to technology, Buddy Holly and friends still entertain the generation that produced some of the best music ever heard. And even after we’re gone, new generations will continue to enjoy the music that will never die.

In every tragedy, some good seems to always emerge, and in this one, a local singer by the name of Bobby Vee was enlisted to perform at the event that was to have featured the three stars that died. His performance received national attention and he moved on to become a star in his own right."