Surviving Superstorm Sandy

My interest in British cars started in my early teens, when just being allowed to run the family powered lawn mower was considered a treat. I recall to this day traveling to my cousin Billie’s home for a family outing and sitting in his garaged Lotus Europa. I thought it was the coolest car I had ever been seen; unfortunately his interest in disassembling mechanical systems resulted in most of the engine parts scattered in boxes throughout the garage.

Later in my teens, I got my driver’s license on my seventeenth birthday as well as the family Dodge Dart. It had survived my two older brothers’ learning curves, but barely. It didn’t live long after I took possession. With $500 in savings from my paper route, I set out to secure a Brit of my own. Admittedly, with not much research, I settled on a 1970 MGB. My taste was more toward Jaguars, but my budget dictated the more readily available and affordable MGBs. Though he was asking more, the owner and I settled on the $500 I had brought with me and fortunately my friend Tommy went with me as I had no idea how to drive a standard transmission. My driving lessons continued for a few harrowing weeks, especially in the hilly city where I lived, where every stop on an incline required deliberate mastering of the foot brake, clutch and emergency brake to avoid rolling into the car behind me. Unfortunately, that MGB was a “Friday Car” meaning that it did not represent the otherwise high standards of British craftsmanship and quality control. I repaired most major components (clutch, brakes, electrical) not once but twice—and three carburetor rebuilds, which never would stay suitably synchronized. Needless to say, with my savings extinguished, I often had to turn to my compassionate father for help.

The MGB had to go before I headed off to college where more dependable transportation would be required. Unfortunately that detour resulted in not one, but two Fiats that proved no more of a demonstration of European craftsmanship that the MGB. I abandoned the Fiats as well and turned to the most affordable alternative, a 1980 Yamaha motorcycle, which I still own and ride to this day.

I never abandoned my interest and desire for another British ride and, with greater knowledge of the options, my thoughts turned to Triumphs. I came close to pulling the trigger on a TR6 a few times, most notably a beautiful black model with red pinstripes that set off the red line Michelins beautifully, but as I graduated college and entered the working world, New Jersey roads and winter weather dictated a more practical alternative.

Fast forward a few years, when a change in employment resulted in the return of my pension contributions. $3000 was burning a hole in my pocket and once again the search for a TR6 was on. This was 1988, prior to the internet being widely used to search high and low, but as it turns out an Inca Yellow with 55,000 miles was just a few towns away at the Jersey shore. My wife Holly and I went over to take a look. While I would like to say we had it professionally evaluated, once again emotion overruled logic and I took the keys. I did recall how to drive a standard and encountered no difficulty getting it home that same day.

I was fortunate to locate and secure a post purchase inspection with Eddie, a local mechanic who specialized in British auto restoration. I recall his sage advice: “do the brakes first, everything else you can walk away from.” We did standard 55k stuff – brakes, clutch, and battery and was pleased to hear his report that in fact it was a good solid car.

For the next twenty five years, we drove the Triumph on occasion, including with my two children, who were able to sit on the back deck with the top down, feet over the transmission tunnel. True to Eddie’s evaluation, it proved very reliable with virtually no additional work, except a new top and tires. But after all those years and only another 10,000 miles added to the odometer in twenty five years, she started to show her age and with my son now approaching his late teens, I set out on a dream that he and I would work together on its restoration. Once again, practicality set in and we both realized we had did not have the expertise, time nor equipment to embark on such an initiative.

While out for one of my Sunday rides, I saw a beautiful blue TR6 not five miles from my house. Being a curious individual and believing most British car owners were a friendly lot, I pulled in and made an introduction to Ben. Turns out Ben was a master mechanic, experienced in all phases of auto restoration and he restored this 1974 TR6 for his own enjoyment. It was indeed beautiful, done exquisitely from top to bottom. Ben agreed to take my car for a half day inspection and work with me to establish a restoration plan to get my car not to show quality, but “a nice Sunday Driver” as he called it.

Ben’s inspection indicated my car had “good bones” and was worthy of further investment and we should start from the bottom up. He found time among his other projects to fully restore the brakes and suspension which made a tremendous difference in how the car handled. Unfortunately for me, Ben elected to move out of the area, and while we discussed him taking my car with him to continue the restoration, we both realized how impractical this approach was. Thus the car sat in my garage, an occasional drive to enjoy the new suspension/brakes but my restoration plans were on hold as I no longer had access to Ben or knowledge of other experienced restoration specialists.

One year later, Superstorm Sandy was set to invade the Jersey shore, and though I live twenty miles inland, my home is on the Mullica River which might be subject to the storm surge. Having built and lived in that house for ten years and having survived a number of Nor’easters, I was fairly confident that my home would remain untouched. In fact, neighbors who had lived there for fifty plus years told me not to worry, my lot is where those with homes in lower elevations would move their cars and they always remained dry. So that day I kept my eye on the weather reports and secured my home as best I could. Given this, and my witnessing of the moderate mid-day high tide, had me confident that the Triumph was safe and sound in the garage.

In the evening, as Sandy approached landfall in Brigantine, less than twenty miles due east where the Mullica meets the ocean, conditions in Sweetwater rapidly deteriorated. Even before the full moon high tide, water levels in the river were higher than ever seen before. At the crucial midnight high tide, water levels increased more rapidly that I ever could have imagined and began to enter the garage. Even then, my thought was just to move items off the floor and I would have maybe a few inches of water to deal with. That optimism rapidly diminished and with my home now surrounded on three sides by the storm surge, water was pouring into the garage and any efforts to stem the flow proved futile. My son Zach and I were in full crisis response mode and were ill prepared to deal with the situation as it unfolded. We jacked up the car with the stock scissor jack, allowing it to rest above grade on whatever we could find in the garage that wasn’t already submerged. We were able to get it up about six inches. Nevertheless, flood water reached mid wheel before it receded. One more inch would have flooded the entire first floor of my home, which was built to an elevation of nine feet, with the garage at seven feet. I considered myself fortunate as the news reports and video of Sandy destruction throughout the Northeast was viewed on TV, once the power was restored.

The next day, a cursory inspection detailed wet carpets but to my relief she started right up.My Yamaha also survived though upon startup water spurted from both exhaust tail pipes. But one thing lead to another with the Triumph; first wet carpets, then realizing the seat bottoms were also soaked and two days later the clutch froze.

I contacted my insurance company, who advised they would be picking up my car, along with many others, and paying out the agreed upon value of my policy. I assured them my interest was to retain my vehicle and fortunately their underwriter, a Jaguar owner, was sympathetic to my cause and agreed on a cash settlement vs. surrendor.

Thus my restoration efforts were restarted by necessity, this time without the benefit of Eddie or Ben. I was able to network and identify skilled local craftsmen—mechanical, body and interior. As with all quality suppliers, they were of course busy but I was determined to work with those I had confidence in. So I got in line, pleaded for a spot in their queue and decided this was the time not only to repair the Sandy indicted damage but to execute the restoration plan started the year prior. Over the course of the next twelve months, the clutch, exhaust, minor engine repairs (hoses, belts, etc.,) were undertaken. Then the TR6 was stripped to bare metal and painted the original Inca Yellow. Finally new carpets, seat foams, interior panels and convertible top were installed, and final touches including the Union Jack decals and British Leyland badges. At first, I anticipated this would take a few months, which stretched to almost a full year. The experience did teach me to be patient, make frequent visits to make sure we were progressing. Needless to say, many calls were made and almost weekly deliveries from the knowledgeable specialists at Moss Motors for the required parts.

I’m pleased to report that as the Sandy anniversary came and went my wife and I are fully enjoying the restored Triumph and been out and about most every weekend. While Sandy brought much destruction to the Jersey Shore, what certainly was a negative for most of NJ managed to be turned to a positive; restarting my restoration and ending with a beautiful “Sunday Driver” TR6. In fact, we recently attended a British only car show, with over 140 beautiful Brits, and thoughts turned to acquiring another project car for restoration. But for the time we’re satisfied and enjoying my Sandy-inspired Triumph restoration.

By Michael Zachowski