When it comes to old cars, it is often said that they don't build them like they used to. That statement is true on more than one level. While there is no denying that the automotive designs from the past continue to pull at our heart strings, the reality is those cars weren't as reliable as the vehicles we drive today. If you're a young whipper-snapper, ask anyone over 40 and they'll likely agree that back in the day it was much more common to see a car on the side of the road with the hood propped open.
Put yourself back there for a minute and picture dad's old Buick on the side of that forgotten road. It's a hot afternoon in 1962 and the family is heading to your cousin's wedding. Everybody is dressed in their Sunday best. Things were going great until the car made a funny sound, sputtered and died. Now dear old dad is peering under the hood, trying not to cuss, and trying not to get his best suit dirty. Although his intentions are noble, he's an accountant, not a mechanic.
Billy Chartier's 1929 Model A Ford 5-window coupe screams nostalgia.
Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, a noisy, jacked-up black hot rod rumbles up behind you. A tough-looking young man in a greasy white T-shirt emerges. "Everything will be fine kids," your father mutters as the second coming of James Dean approaches. "Just remain calm."
"What seems to be the trouble sir?," he asks with Boy Scout curiosity. A short conversation follows and in no time flat the greasy youngster has his head buried under the hood. As this mechanical magician performs his voodoo, the family collectively holds their breath.
"Try it now," he yells from beneath the hood.
As the engine magically roars back to life, the entire family cheers. The villain has suddenly become the hero. Perhaps he saved the day with some farm-boy ingenuity, utilizing a few tools and a piece of wire, or maybe he had a jug full of water for your radiator, or that gallon of gas needed to get you to the next service station.
As your dad reaches into his wallet to give the young man a few bucks for his troubles, he steadfastly refuses any payment. Instead, he hands your father a small business card. On that card it reads, "You have just been assisted by a member of the Selkirk Imperials Car Club."
Chartier even has an authentic German war helmet that surely would have made the late Ed "Big Daddy" Roth grin from ear to ear.
It's difficult to imagine, but there was a time when folks were more than a little skeptical of young men who banded together and drove hot rod cars. It took a lot of these very same "roadside-assistance" scenarios to finally educate the public that just because a dude drove a bad car, he wasn't necessarily a bad dude. We have countless young men from our past to thank for the level of acceptance our hobby has finally attained. These men had gasoline in their veins.
They were our Rodfathers.
As a young car nut with dreams of one day living life in the fast lane, it was always perplexing to Billy Chartier that hot rodder's got such a bum rap. "The older guys I knew back then who had hot rods were the nicest guys around," recalls Chartier. "They would give you the shirt off their back."
Like many car buffs from the era, Chartier honed his mechanical skills on the family farm in the 1960s. He was turning wrenches with his grandfather, working on farm machinery before he could even drive.
His interests soon turned to building model cars, and he was quickly immersed in the car culture, reading magazines, talking cars and idolizing the likes of famed builder Ed "Big Daddy" Roth. By age 16 he was rolling with the older guys in a car of his own. Chartier's rolling resume has since included a most impressive lineup of American iron, including muscle cars, customs, trucks, street rods and even a fleet of taxi cabs. His passion for cars has never wavered.
There was, however, one ride that he always longed for.
"Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted an old-time hot rod," recalls Chartier as he puffs on a thick cigar in his Selkirk garage. "A car that was really nostalgic looking, a car that paid tribute to the roots of our hobby."
Mission accomplished.
Billy's latest, and possibly greatest creation, began life as a 1929 Model A Ford. A five-window coupe to be exact. You're forgiven if it doesn't look entirely familiar, there have been a few modifications done since it rolled off Henry Ford's assembly line nearly 80 years ago.
For those of you who get squeamish when the technical talk starts flowing, here's the condensed version. What Chartier has done is hand build a chassis, installed a lengthy list of suspension and brake modifications, dropped in a flathead Mercury V-8 engine, and topped the works off with a flat black, 3.5-inch chopped and channeled 1929 Model A Ford body.
Chartier drove all the way to Edmonton just to get the body, he traded a 1932 Ford truck cab for it.
When it came time to do the final finish on the body, Chartier took another step back in time, opting to do the fine metal work with lead filler instead of the Bondo body filler typically used today. Chartier explained that the lead comes in different sized bars that you heat up until they melt. You then spread the creamy lead on like peanut butter, smoothing it out with a special spoon before it cools off and hardens.
The car's body panels are all made of steel, a point that Chartier takes great pride in. The only body part that's not original Ford metal is the trunk lid, it is a reproduction that set him back $913. "I could have bought a Fiberglas lid for a lot less," says Chartier. "But it had to be steel."
Chartier used an original Model A frame for comparison, and built a jig and welded the new frame together out of steel on his garage floor. Like many in the know, Chartier has a way of making the process sound simple. The reality is it took countless hours, and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears. He also added a custom coil-over rear suspension, and up front there's a dropped Super Bell front axle. A peek underneath reveals that the hand-built chassis is as clean as a church kitchen. The car rolls on nostalgic red steel wheels with chrome trim rings and Ford hubcaps, while the skinny Coker Classic whitewall tires totally seal the old-school deal.
The heart of this hottie is where the nostalgia really screams. In a world where the vast majority of builders opt for small-block Chevrolet engines, Chartier dropped in a 1951 Mercury flathead V-8 engine. This jewel is loaded with period-correct goodies, including Offenhauser cylinder heads and a six-pack intake manifold. Resting on top of the manifold are three two-barrell Stromberg 97 carburetors with slash cut aluminum breathers. To help the old flatty exhale, Lake-style headers that menacingly protrude from the side of the car were made to order. A freshly rebuilt 1950 Ford three-speed standard transmission linked to a Hurst floor-mount shifter churns the butter in a "banjo" style quick-change rear differential.
There's so many different things going on with this car, it really takes a while for it all to sink in. Once it does it blends together perfectly, like a symphony. The only visible colours are black, red and the occasional glint of chrome or aluminum. The front brakes are aluminum-finned drums from a 1948 Buick, he found them brand new in the box, untouched since the 1960s. There are a few modern parts, but they have been carefully camouflaged. The red tuck-and-roll seat recently re-upholstered by John Scheels is actually from a late model Dodge Caravan. The chopped roof that was once covered in wood and vinyl has fresh sheet metal salvaged from a 1984 Pontiac Grand Am. "I found it at Tin Man Auto on Springfield, recalls Chartier, "It was a near perfect fit."
Chartier is quick to credit the many friends and family members who pitched in on the project. Throughout our interview he mentioned no less than 10 friends who helped him get the car built. He was especially thankful to his wife Mary, who had to roll him out to the garage in a wheelchair when the project started up last fall. "I had knee replacement surgery last June," said Chartier, who is the retired former owner of Will's Taxi in Selkirk. The knee still bugs him, but he shudders to think what kind of shape he'd be in if he had just waited in the house for it to heal. "Building this car was the best physical and mental therapy going."
Once final assembly was completed, Chartier decided to give the car a nickname. Lil' Devil seemed to fit the best. "From the moment I started dreaming about building this car it totally possessed me," chuckled Chartier, who still has a bit of wiring and upholstery to finish before the car will be officially unveiled at the Manitoba Street Rod Association's annual Rondex Rodarama Car Show being held April 25-27 at the East End Arena in Transcona.
In addition to owning some very cool cars, Chartier is also the proud owner of a number of amazing miniature collections, including classic model cars, and his most prized possessions, a wall full of vintage club plates that bear the name's of car clubs from the past, both local and beyond. "These plates remind me of a time when things were much simpler," adds Chartier, who also has a small collection of calling cards just like the ones left behind by member's of the Winnipeg Clutchers.
In the true spirit of the hobby, Chartier not only intends to drive the car as often as possible, he also intends to leave a few calling cards of his own behind. Rest-assured, even new cars can still leave you stranded, so don't be surprised if one day a man in a tough-looking black hot rod pulls over to help you out.
Count your lucky stars. You've just been assisted by "Hot Rod Billy" of the Selkirk Imperials Car Club.
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