Packard Motor Car Information

Re: The Duchess Project: 1940 Super 8 Convertible Sedan

Posted by Joe Santana On 2010/11/4 16:58:54

I sent the Duchess to a DIY place near by, but wasn't able to devote my entire Saturdays to going there, which was about the only way to make it worthwhile. I went several times over a couple of years, but couldn't seem to accomplish much myself. I used the paint booth and a small sand-blasting box.

I couldn't decide whether to add the trunk rack or not. The 40s are really 30s cars. A trunk rack doesn't look out of place, but I wonder how many trunk racks were sold with 1940 models. A question for Jim Hollingsworth no doubt. It comes down to value. A trunk rack helps to sell. I'm going to keep it for now but not put it on the car right away. I primed it there. The parts have been chromed.

In the end, I paid the owner to work on removing and replacing the rusted areas with new metal and parts, which involved welding.

The trunk was rusted through on the sides towards the back where the brackets to the frame are located. The rear end of the body was pretty loose from the frame. When the frame moved up and down, it stretched the holes in the body where the bumper brackets come out, so that was something else to fix. The floor of the trunk had been replaced in 1971, but just the center section. Once we poked around in there, it was a mess. It's fixed now and solid as a rock with new brackets to the frame and body work done. That was last year. This summer I learned about the trunk pans from Classic 2 Current Fabrication. I sent the dimensions to see if the 120 pans fit the 160s. I've heard they do, but they couldn't confirm and I guess the dimensions I sent were inconclusive because they only offered to make one. The pans do not include the supports etc, so I think it would come down to cosmetics you wouldn't see and structurally it is sound. But I do wish I'd known about the pans and whether they fit the 160s.

When that work was completed, I had her moved to a wood shop, where the wooden box for the convertible top was being made, but hadn't been fitted to the car. I talked to a restorer, but other projects delayed starting on my car. The wood shop was part of a tech shop where collaborative craftspeople in metal and wood materials share a building, teach classes, work on projects. It just wasn't financially able to cover costs, so I got a call that everything had to be moved out and to collect my car.

So the Duchess came home and my dream of driving to my 50th high school reunion ended. I went to the reunion and others asked after the car and seemed pleased that I still owned it. So it became not as much of a disappointment. I was disgruntled for a month.

The first restorer I talked to, didn't return my emails or calls. I started reading back issues of The Cormorant and PI magazines I had only flipped through. I actually read each one cover to cover from 2000 forward. I read about Tom Moretti who restores his own cars and wins at Pebble Beach. It was like reading The Lives of the Saints for me. I finally decided to blame no one but myself for the car not being finished. I wasn't much of a project manager. That's when I decided to work on the Duchess every evening I had free, right at home.

I bought a gun for small parts and a compressor. I bought some primer and I was off to the races.

I had taken one side of the top apart and sent the parts for chroming. They were finished, $500 worth, so I started cleaning the painted parts. In the 70s, when this interior top chrome was pitted and pocked, I rubbed it with steel wool and painted it black by hand. It looked a lot better. I was on a roll, so I painted the rest of the parts black as well. So now I had the pleasure of removing all that paint with paint strip and wire brushes.

I couldn't find a formula for the brownish color used for so many parts on the inside of the car. The only part I had left with that color was the steering column. Since it had to be painted, too, I pulled it out of the car. I'm sure there were a few smirks when I hefted up on the counter at the industrial paint store. Like the times, just for laffs, I used to fly with a horse shoe in my carry-on. "Gladys, Come over here and take a look at this in the monitor. Could that be considered a weapon?" "On the hind hooves of a mule it might be." I'd say out loud, "That horse shoe has to fly with me for good luck on the entire flight." They used to let me take it, like a security blanket, but the TSA finally got their act together and now I don't even try. Anyway they matched the color to my satisfaction.

I primed and filled and sanded and primed and sanded and painted. Then I drilled holes in the tongues that protrude forward from the wooden box, mounted the bracket, and started attaching parts skyward. Gee, I look at those restored parts and am very proud. I finally understood the other part of this hobby and how satisfying it can be.

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