by Charles Clark

Originally published in the May-June 2020 issue of Continental Comments (Issue # 354.)

Among old car aficionados who do restorations, there is a tug-of-war that goes on. Pulling in one direction are the purists who strive to make the car exactly as it came out of the factory. They obsess not only over “matching numbers”, but also over inspection paint marks on the frame. Those details have nothing to do with how the car runs. Instead, it has to do with the compulsive nature of the restorer. They insist on a level of perfection, which, in a lot of cases, never existed. Corvette restorers perhaps epitomize that approach. On the opposite end of the spectrum are those who seek to “upgrade” the car by modernizing various systems, such as engine carburetion and brakes. At the far end of this spectrum, we have the “restomod” where only the body is saved, and almost everything else is replaced with modern systems.

Our local LCOC region has members of each type, but the emphasis seems to be more on preserving and driving the car while having some personal enjoyment with it. I have engaged in both aspects of the hobby. With my 1940 Lincoln-Zephyr Continental Cabriolet (whew), I strived to do an exact restoration. Why else would I pay $500 for an air cleaner or $300 for an original taillight, and let’s not even talk about the NOS steering wheel? My goal was to make the car just like it came off the showroom floor. But this is 2020, not 1940 and things have changed. Thanks to our beloved “corn gas” and its ten percent alcohol content, if you want to drive the car
here in the Centennial State on a hot day at this altitude, it is essential that you have either an auxiliary electric fuel pump or good hiking shoes when the car vapor locks. Unless the car is to be a permanent resident at the Forney Transportation Museum in Denver, Colo, it must have the electric pump. Otherwise, the Lincoln is as close as I can make it to factory original.

The Continental is, therefore, in line with the stated purpose of the LCOC, which is to preserve the various Lincoln and Continental models. The emphasis is on exact restoration with judging and awards that foster this end. I am proud to say I have received some of those awards, even though I had to take some liberties by making modifications for the sake of practicality.

My 1940 Ford Coupe is at the other end of the spectrum. It looks original, but it has a modern overhead-valve, fuel-injected engine, power disk brakes, independent front suspension and a nine-inch rear-end, plus air conditioning. It is not quite a “restomod,” but it certainly is a “hot rod.” It required special skills beyond my ability to build each car. Machining the engines, painting and upholstery are tasks that require craftsmen regardless of your objective for the final restoration.

I have become heavily involved with carburetion in both “restored” and “upgraded” cars. I use the word “carburetion” in its most basic definition, which is the mixture of air and fuel to provide an optimally combustible vapor. Once the mechanics of the engine have been established, such as bore and stroke, camshaft profile and valve train, there is only ignition timing and carburetion left to determine the ultimate performance of the engine. The design approach to carburetion will have a significant effect on the performance of a car. It took me many years to study and to practice how to carburete an engine optimally. I am still learning.

The “old school” way to carburete a car is to use what we commonly call a “carburetor,” or just carb for short. The “new school” way is to use electronically controlled fuel injection (FI). What may not be obvious is while they both do the same thing, they do it by different methods. A “throttle body” style of FI presents an appearance very similar to a carb.

Why the change? To make the carb engine run at high altitudes here in Colorado, you need to change jets and metering rods. This requires mechanical assembly and some trial and error with replacement parts to get the car to run optimally. You also have to set a fussy thermostatic spring choke to get it to start and run when cold. There is also a power pump and fuel bowl needle valves, which need attention. Fuel starvation due to vapor lock is a common problem.

With FI, you have to make changes to the fuel pump and plug in some new sensors to measure engine performance. Once that is done, a computer takes over and provides the exact amount of fuel the engine requires based on what the sensors measure. There is nothing to change or to adjust with temperature or altitude.

For a judged show car, you want to keep the carbs. For a more regular driver, there is a good argument to convert to fuel injection. The issue then is not so much old school versus new school, but rather what your expectations are for the driving experience with the car and how dedicated you are to the exactness of restoration. That said, be prepared for controversy as “old school” aficionados do not give in to “new school” easily. In fact, they never give in!

by Michael White

Originally published in the January-February 2019 issue of Continental Comments (Issue # 346.)

How does someone become a vintage car enthusiast? For me it was simple: the cars I grew up with became “vintage” while the cars of the present and future didn’t interest me so much anymore.

It all began in 1984 when I became fascinated with the Ford LTD that my family rented for a road trip. I passed the miles trying to spot others like it on the highway. I learned to identify a lot of cars on that trip and just kept doing so when I got home. That led to collecting car ads, brochures, and magazines. Before I knew it, I was a certified car nut. On another trip that winter, we rented a Lincoln Continental Mark VII. Immediately, I knew that this car was something special, and my love affair with Lincoln began.

Fast forward about 20 years. I realized that my favorite cars of the ‘80s were within my grasp financially. I hesitated to buy one because I thought it would be too difficult to maintain. In 2016, I started searching online seriously for my own vintage car, viewing hundreds of potential choices in a few months. Nothing clicked until I was at a show and overheard some one discussing a 1982 Lincoln Continental. The 1982 Continental represented something of a new start for Lincoln. It was much smaller and lighter than anything Lincoln had produced in recent years. With the standard V-8 and gas-pressure shock absorbers, the car combined traditional Lincoln comfort with just a touch of sporty handling. The styling referenced the Mark series with its spare tire hump while the creased roofline paid homage to vintage Rolls-Royces. Looking closely, you see a hint of the budding aerodynamic trend at Ford which would reach full bloom in the Mark VII two years later. I immediately walked over to ask about it. It turned out the man’s friend had one for sale on an online auction site. Within hours I had called the seller, and the next day I was at his garage looking over the car.

The Lincoln was neither a Designer edition nor the Signature series. The only major options were leather upholstery and wire wheels. Although a 3.8 liter V-6 was available, this car had the venerable 5.0 liter V-8. Like all 1982 Continentals, it had a four-speed automatic transmission, first offered by Ford just two years earlier. The gleaming exterior was finished in a subtle off-white shade called “Pastel French Vanilla.” The digital dash had only three gauges (speed, fuel, and temperature) and a 12-button trip computer, all of which still functioned. Everything checked out, so I placed a bid for the car the next morning. Amazingly, nobody else bid on the car after that. I won the car later that day. I now had about a week to arrange storage, insurance, and registration for it. I found a private garage for rent online. The state motor vehicle offices were closed on the Saturday that I planned to pick up the car. It took visits to three “tag and title” shops to complete the necessary paperwork, leaving little time to spare before picking the car up at the seller’s house.

I had visions of a triumphant first drive in the car, but the Lincoln struggled to go much faster than 20 mph. I thought that there might be something catastrophically wrong with the vehicle. I soon realized that I needed to move the seat forward so my feet could fully reach the pedals. Having never owned a carbureted car before, the whole routine of pumping the gas and cranking the engine was new to me. I knew there would be issues since the seller had mentioned a problem with getting gas into the bowls of the Lincoln’s unconventional “variable venturi” carburetor. I eventually got the knack of  starting it and within a month was driving the Continental on a local driving tour. Two-and-a-half months later I drove it all the way from the Washington, DC area to the Delaware shore for a show.

As the leaves turned and the weather cooled, the car got harder to start. Just before Thanksgiving 2016, I noticed the car wasn’t cranking as eagerly as usual so I spent Black Friday acquiring and installing a new battery. As winter progressed, driving opportunities became more infrequent. Starting the Lincoln now took several minutes and usually required the help of a more experienced car hobbyist. Sometime in January, the new battery failed. I knew something had to be done. Without a dedicated garage and little technical knowledge, wrenching it myself wasn’t an option. I located a shop that had a good reputation for carburetor work and waited several weeks until the salt was off the road before delivering it. Weeks went by with little to no update. Towards the end of April, I called with an early May 2017 deadline in mind.

When I came to retrieve the car the first weekend of May, I learned that the primary issue was gas leaking out around the edges of the carburetor. They had rebuilt the carburetor, resolving the starting problem. It still ran rough, so they installed an NOS variable venturi carburetor intended for a full-size Ford While the shop completed the mechanical work, I reassessed storage for the Lincoln. A few weeks after purchase, I moved it to a friend’s garage on the outskirts of town. It then spent the winter in an underground parking garage. Neither situation was ideal. In the spring, I discovered a public storage facility 10 miles from home that would take the Continental. Although it would be much more expensive, I now had a dedicated garage with easy access to my car. The car drove well on the way to its new home. Since then, the Continental has become the fun entry into the vintage Lincoln hobby that I had sought in 2016. It’s still not as easy to start as a modem fuel injected car, but I ’ve learned its rhythms and can usually get it started on my own in two or three minutes. I drive it every week when I can, and I’ve mastered the art of maneuvering it into its narrow parking space. The Continental has been to a few more shows and back to the Delaware beach. Living with this car has involved some work, but it’s been a labor of love. The most important lesson that I learned from all of this is that you can’t wait for just the perfect moment to get started collecting classic Lincolns or anything else worthwhile for that matter. Take the first step, and the rest will come. My only regret is not doing so sooner.