When Garage Purging Becomes A Community Affair

The following is an editorial column from the April 2024 issue of Hemmings Motor News.

“Who would keep stuff like this?” I asked myself that question over and over as I sorted through boxes and shelves I’d filled with the leftovers of decades of wrenching on old cars. It’s a task I’d thought about doing many times, but was always able to put off in favor of tackling something more pleasant—like crawling under the Rover to replace the pads on its inboard rear brakes, say, or trying (again) to bleed the Fiat’s clutch.

It was our decision to sell our house and relocate two states over that brought all this happy procrastination to an end. You know all those encouraging stories you hear about people who finally tackle a task they’ve been dreading, and discover that it wasn’t so hard after all? This isn’t one of those stories. But, like all things worth doing, there was a reward at the end. Maybe more than one reward.

The attached garage was one of the things that had most appealed to us about the house when we bought it 15 years ago, offering plenty of room to shelter up to two inoperative vehicles, in addition to a motorcycle, some bicycles, and our mower and snowblower. What I didn’t realize is just how much it would encourage my latent pack-rat tendencies.

As a consequence, the place became something like a museum of all the cars I’d owned and worked on over the years, filled with parts for vehicles that I no longer owned, and probably never would again. Here, were new oil filters for cars that had come and gone; there, the rusted and scored brake discs from a Volvo 1800. Occupying a corner was a tangle of used brake lines, as well as some worn-out components from a Triumph gearbox and an assortment of used fan belts. All of this was invaluable – as in, of absolutely no value to anyone – and needing to be dealt with.

A727 and assorted car parts

Photo: Bryan McTaggart

At least I wouldn’t need to sort through the hand tools. These occupied my red Craftsman chest and roller cabinet combination, a present I’d bought myself at a now-long-closed Sears in one of my first attempts to get my workspace organized. When it comes to tools, my rules are simple: Lend, yes; discard, never.

You could trace my involvement with cars through the contents of that tool chest. The earliest were some assorted Ward Master Quality sockets that my dad acquired to work on his Cadillac out in the driveway, and a battered but mostly complete tool kit that I bought in college to keep my AMC Hornet on the road. Over the years, these have been added to as necessary: a clip puller to remove the inner door handles of my Corvair, an SU carburetor wrench, a Spitfire clutch alignment tool, a hex socket for some long-forgotten fastener on a Volkswagen Rabbit. All have earned their keep.

As I do when I’m faced with an automotive challenge, I called my friend and mechanic, Kevin Leonard. Did he know anyone who might be able to use what wouldn’t be coming with me? He did. As it turned out, he was building and equipping a shop at his house where he and his son, Charlie, would be restoring a 1967 Ford Fairlane 500 convertible. One weekend morning, he backed his 2018 Chevrolet Silverado up to the garage door, and he and I got to work. Into the bed went the drill press I’d found at the used tool store, the Craftsman workbench I’d bought new, assorted drip pans and catch trays, ramps, jack stands, and more, mainly things that would cost the same—or more—to ship as to replace. I consider that truckload a partial repayment of the help he’s always been willing to give me. He did me the further great favor of taking all the half-empty containers of lubricants, cleaners, and other chemicals.

Our new home in Maine doesn’t have a garage, and so my tools are biding their time in a storage unit until I can find a new place to set up shop. Three older cars, my Rover 2000 TC, Citroën Dyane, and Bertone (aka Fiat) X1/9, made the jump with me, scattered in various locations while I hunt down a three-car garage where I can return to doing my own maintenance and repair work.

Those rewards I mentioned? I take great comfort from knowing that my two-car-garage mess hasn’t been left for someone else to clean up someday. And I love thinking about the work that Kevin and Charlie will be doing with that passed-along equipment in their own new shop.