Story and photos by Stephen Glenn
The Find.
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The barn find. That quintessential dream, a bit of something for nothing coupled with the thrill of possession. Add the adrenaline of rolling back that dusty cover in who knows how long and you're hooked.
I've had the good fortune of a barn find or two. Nothing really significant, but entertaining nonetheless. The $50 Osca 1600 engined Fiat, the Fiat 1100 pulled out of a backyard that went on to be my wife's daily driver, a convertible bubble window Isetta uncovered in a mouldering barn in rural North Carolina...
With the advent of the Internet it seems that the barn find has become more elusive. Anyone can log on and see what their car is 'worth.' The democratization of the car selling process has changed the playing field, making the hunt all that more tame. How exciting, really, is it to log onto eBay and bid on a dusty Maserati? When in the good old days you might have heard about it from the guy at the parts store, tracked it across a town or two and finally six months later have gotten to actually see the car. Only to discover at that point, that instead of it being a Mexico, it's an '84 bi-turbo. Then a car like the Alfa pictured here comes along to restore your faith.
Upon closer examination in the light of day, the Alfa looked even more promising.
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And therein is today's story, the rescue and resuscitation of a 1964 Alfa Giulia 1600 spider. Over four years ago I first noticed this car tucked into a carport mere blocks from our house. We had just moved to Northern Nevada and being an ethnocentric Californian, was surprised at how many classic European cars there were here, the Alfa being chief among those observations. Every day I drove by the house and for whatever reason never stopped, although I was tempted to many times. I did pull the owner's name from public records and finally sent her a letter a couple years back. With no response.
Then one day I drove by and the house was empty, but the cars were still there. The Alfa being kept company by a 50's Chrysler and a 70's Thunderbird, all equally neglected. Shortly thereafter, a construction crew showed up and began a comprehensive remodel on the house, during which the cars slowly disappeared behind piles of debris. Slowly the house, and the cars, reemerged from the construction and I realized that the window of opportunity was closing fast. It was now or never.
What a bit of pspit and polish will do after all those years.
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Screwing up my courage I stopped in one Saturday afternoon when there were two non-contractor type cars in the driveway. The door was duly answered and I expressed my interest in the Alfa. But I was too late! The owners, who turned out to be the son of the prior owner and his wife, had agreed to sell the car to the contractor. And for an appalling low sum at that.
Having procrastinated far too long, I persisted and they agreed that I should call them the following weekend to confirm that the other buyer was going to follow through. Their not executing seemed so remote that I all but gave up. The week passed and I eventually called them back expecting the worst. Imagine my surprise when he said "you're in luck, the other buyer backed out." At which point I almost dropped the telephone in shock. We discussed the price and terms, briefly, and struck the deal.
Look Ma, No Rust! The first place to look for rot in an Alfa Spider.
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Being late Saturday afternoon I couldn't get them the funds until Monday. But the seller was busy and didn't have time to meet until the following weekend. All week I wondered if the original buyer was going to come to his senses. Finally, on the following Saturday afternoon, we met, signed the paperwork, I paid them and the car was mine. Pushing the car out into the driveway I breathed a sigh of relief, having effectively bought the car sight-unseen. A friend helped load the car and I took it home to see exactly what it was that I'd bought.
Duct tape doing
it's job but look at that engine bay. Sorry, first dibs already spoken for.
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The first order of business was a wash. Several hours later, with fresh gas, a new battery and a comprehensive fluid check it fired right up for the first time since 1978! Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised. We even managed to drive it a couple blocks although the brakes were pretty dodgy. It turns out that the car was owned by the same lady from new. She parked the car in 1978 with just under 29,000 miles after a surgery that left her upper body seriously weakened. Whether it was started regularly or not is unknown, but absolutely everything worked when we started it up again 26 years later.
"I can't believe this is really happening..."
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Since then I've slowly begun sorting the car to bring it back to good driver condition. Now that it's winter here it's a great time to fully dial it in before the next driving season. Fortunately this is limited to things like rubber hoses, seals, etc. that degrade in our desert environment, so it ought to be in fine shape come spring.
Knowing that the thrill of discovery frequently outweighs the pleasure of ownership for me, my kind friends, including the editor of this publication, have been positioning themselves as the next potential owner. But my hunch is that this one's a keeper, unless, of course, I finally find that D-type Jag last seen in the mid-60's and rumored to be nearby...
