By: Chris Kantarjiev

Tuesday. We dawdle over breakfast, show up at Junior’s late morning. The owner is expected in town around 1:30. We hang out, trying not to be in the way and not be too obviously nervous. However, there are only so many times you can read the same old FAF and Automotion catalogs. There’s a 250GT engine apart in the next room, waiting for some parts to come back from the machine shop, and I stare at that for a while. Sigh.

The owner finally shows up at 5:30. It’s too late to call my bank to do the transfer, doesn’t matter, he has a file of papers and an extra set of keys on the original fob, unused. He says, sure, go ahead and start working on it, these folks want to get home! But first he shows us what he’s brought and tells us a couple of stories about the car.

First he pulls out a leather folder. It’s just a simple stationery set, except that it has a cavallino rampante embossed in gold on it. "Dr. Manicardi said I was paying $1000 for the car - the rest was for this folder." In it is the original owner’s manual, the warranty, the dealer list, the instructions for the Blaupunkt radio - everything.

Next he pulls out a photo - of him, and the car, and Mac, and a KLM jet plane. OK, so that wasn’t just a story.

330 GT 2+2 s/n 9161 in Italy as it is loaded up for shipment to America in the late sixties. Standing near the car are the original owner and Dr. Manicardi. (Remember from the January issue: supposedly the owner knew that KLM was about to institute direct flights from Rome to New York, and he knew someone at KLM. So he arranged for the car to be shipped direct - it was the first piece of freight off the first KLM flight. Apparently it was shipped free of charge, for the publicity.).

Then he tells a slightly different version of the story involving the Catholic Church: it’s largely the same except no mention of the Spanish royal family, the owner’s assistant (Mac) is the one with a good connection in the Church, and the owner went to Rome looking to get a discount on the car. The end is much the same, he paid his deposit, got a 5% discount and picked up the car later.

"But you know, I always wondered a little about why Mac knew this guy in Rome, and why he negotiated a discount for a stranger. Years later, I found out that Mac wasn’t just working for me - he was really working for the CIA. And the fellow at the Church was a married man, but, well, he’d been indiscreet. And the CIA had photographs. So when Mac said ‘Jump’, he didn’t even bother to ask ‘How high?’".

The other story he told was of chasing a Miura on the Autostrada. (This actually seems rather unlikely, since the first Miura was delivered in March of 1967, and by then 9161 was already back in Houston - but it could have been a different Lamborghini, or one of the two 330 GTCs that this guy also owned...) "I saw him off in the distance, I was doing a good 130 or so, and thought I’d try to catch him. As I got closer, I noticed that he was putting out some puffs of exhaust and not going very smoothly; I figured it was vapor lock, because it was a hot day. I had switched on the aux fuel pump earlier. Anyway, I just put my foot down, and flew by him at 150. Boy did he look upset."

The owner goes away. Junior and Pat and I run up to Hi-Lo, the local Pep Boys equivalent, and get some Gunk and head over to the car wash. Two cans later, we can see the suspension and the front of the engine again.

We take the file of papers with us that evening. Receipts from about 1968 on. Lots of documentation about the dropped valve and rebuilt engine. Details of when the car was repainted, and when someone backed into it shortly thereafter (and the hassle of getting him to settle up). It’s amazing - you can’t tell that the car was crunched. The body work is amazing. Letters about starting an FCA chapter in Houston.

Oh yeah, the original order, bill of sale, receipt and bank draft copy.

It would appear that the owner went through a cycle: every two years or so he’d decide to drive the car again, drop $1K to $2K on a big repair to get it road worthy again, drive it for 400-500 miles, and let the neglect settle in again. We saw three examples of this. I guess that’s why he’s selling it. Nothing major, just this and that and the other minor thing would need replacing.

Wednesday. Junior starts on the engine. Now I begin to understand why a complete tune-up is 20 to 30 hours: it takes two hours just to get down to the valves. I pull off the belly pan and the old fuel hoses. He yanks the power steering pump and alternator. I start making up new fuel lines with the old fittings and ferrules - if you ever do this, get new ferrules!

Somewhere in here, probably while we were both grunting trying to find the secret of getting old ferrules on new hose, Junior utters the line that sums up the entire effort, a line that I have used many times since:

"If it was easy, everybody would be doing it." Texas wisdom, indeed.

The power steering pump is leaking from the shaft seal; it’s visibly worn. Fine, seals are easy, Junior measures and orders one at a local supplier. Should be there tomorrow.

We pull the driver’s seat. The seat rail modification is semi-permanent: new steel track has been welded and pop-riveted onto the floor, and a new piece is at the back of the rail. It can be undone, but not immediately. Pat heads off to buy some foam for a "shim", and starts on the leather. Lexol is great stuff. (We later realize that some of the Italian phrasing on the order is a request to have the driver’s seat moved back 4cm - this work that looks like hack and slash is a factory mod!)

I install the fuel lines; Junior pulls the water pump to install a new seal. I hit all the chassis nipples with a grease gun. Our plane back to San Francisco leaves without us - we are now officially committed.

About the author: Chris Kantarjiev is the proprietor of the Dimebank Garage, a small operation that specializes in British sports and racing cars. He and his girlfriend, Pat Caruthers, are on a mission to assemble the ideal "car wardrobe" - a set of cars that includes the right car for every purpose. When not driving or working on one of the cars, they’re most likely standing on a racetrack corner as SCCA flaggers. (By day, they are both software engineers in Silicon Valley. Visit the virtual Dimebank Garage at http://triumph.cs.utah.edu/cak/Dimebank.html).