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By Vince Basehart
July 18 -- In the Lens' praise of Santa Monica's old road
warriors this past Spring ("Old
Cars," March 14, 2008), he may have been too hasty in his
dismissal of the "perfectly restored cream puffs awaiting purchase
in the climate controlled showroom down from El Cholo" on Wilshire
Boulevard.
I will admit, frankly, that was purely the result of jealousy,
not contempt. The Lens cannot begin to touch the price of taking
the keys to one these beauties, mostly '50s and '60s Detroit products.
The gleaming '67 GTO, for instance, with a black paint job so deep
you could fall into it, will set the buyer back the equivalent of
a decent university education, with room and board. The '70 Challenger
and convertible '69 Camaro, each shining like the day they rolled
off the assembly line a couple of generations ago, go for a similar
price.
This is not highway robbery; it's what the market will bear. The
typical buyer is a well-heeled Baby Boomer wanting to relive the
glory days of his first car and intact hairline.
Grant Woods, owner and operator of Cars With Class, is the match
maker between those Baby Boomers and their dream cars.
"I sell them to all sorts, really," he tells me with
his New Zealander accent, still firmly in place after living in
the US since the mid '70s. "I sell to a few collectors, but
mostly to people who want to drive them."
Woods seems to have a grand life. He strolls across the shining
floor of his showroom in rubber flip flops to shake my hand. He
is wearing a polo shirt and shorts in the middle of his work day.
He takes me around for a tour of some of these perfect pieces.
A '59 Nash station wagon done in Eisenhower-era mint and pine green
two tone, sits cutely on original steel rims and wide white wall
tires. A black '57 convertible T-bird gleams over in a corner.
There is a wedge-shaped Studebaker that Woods has had in his possession
half a dozen times.
"The owner sold it to me, I sold it to someone else. The original
owner bought it back again, traded it to me, I resold it…"
on it goes, relating the story of one of those Baby Boomers trying
to chase the original dream. "He just couldn't let it go."
In the back of the showroom is a small mechanic's shop. Beyond
the lathe and drill press is a workbench loaded with engine parts,
assorted tools and oily rags.
Beside it on a stand is a customer's engine, a hot rodder's dream
displacing a gigantic 509 cubic inches. Its cylinder heads and other
parts have been stripped from it as if by a roaming band of malevolent
pit bosses. It is wounded.
Woods points to where four of the eight cylinders are demolished,
the result of a valve that got loose. He explains, "The valve
broke and then was just sucked through the engine and ingested,
destroying things along the way."
In the corner of the shop, under a tarp is one of the Woods' personal
toys, a 1946 all wood Garwood speedboat. He's got it sitting there
on a trailer waiting for an overhauled engine. He points to his
'40s Ford woodie wagon that tows it, with a license plate which
reads "DABULL."
There is an air about Woods which reminds me a bit of a museum
curator. He knows he's got cars that are timeless and, alas, ultimately
perishable. He's not really the owner between buyers, but a keeper
of the flame.
He even knows the history of his shop. Not far from a Wedgwood
blue Morris Minor convertible is a framed pamphlet from a 1936 Bay
Cities Telephone Guide, back when you still had to call the operator
first. It has advertisements for La Salles, Cadillacs and Oldsmobiles.
"I know that the building dates back at least to this year,
since this is a pamphlet in one of the original businesses here,"
Woods announces.
"At some point this building and a few across the street,
and even where El Cholo is now, used to be part of Martin Cadillac
before they moved."
Back in those days Santa Monicans shopped for these very same cars
wearing suits and ties and hats. Nowadays people can come in and
purchase the very same cars from Grant Woods, who wears flip flops
and shorts. It's a wonderful life.
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