Wires & Whitewalls

by Wayne Dyke

The year was 1963. I was lucky to have my own ride in high school—a 1951 Ford flathead—but I was always envious of classmates who cruised around in any of the British sports cars that we all salivated over in the late 50s and 60s. I remember one silver and blue big Healey and a little cherry red Sprite in particular that were real eye-catchers with the tops down. Graduation and heading to the University of Maryland College Park, MD meant selling my faithful ‘51 Ford since freshmen were not allowed to have cars on campus. On semester breaks, I had to rely on my dad for transportation home.

My dad was a professional mechanic who was always buying, fixing, and then reselling cars for profit, so I never knew what ride to look for when he picked me up. I remember waiting for him with my dirty laundry bag in tow when I noticed a beautiful red 1958 Healey BN4, complete with a black hardtop, motoring down U.S. Route #1 in front of campus. I was surprised when the car stopped in front of me, and when I peered inside, my dad was behind the wheel—grinning from ear to ear. I knew it was probably another buy, fix, and sell, but I was over the moon.

Dad was an ace mechanic, having worked for Chrysler dealerships, B-17 engines in the Philippines during WWII, and at the time, was the head mechanic for the Baltimore FBI office. I still have his offer letter signed by J. Edgar Hoover. Mr. Hoover would only let my dad service his bureau car when he visited the Baltimore office. Most of my dad’s experience had been with the big block police interceptors used by the FBI. He knew these cars like the back of his hand and could rebuild a Holley 4-barrel in a wink, but he was about to go through a new learning curve with the Healey BN4. A new set of metric tools vs. SAE was also in play.

My dad, like me, must have loved the car since years passed, and the Healey still had its spot in the garage. When he wasn’t working on neighbor’s American cars, he would be under the Healey’s bonnet—tinkering with the engine and putting in new rings, bearings, etc. He even came up with a PVC modification setup, complete with copper tubing and an oil particle collection jar that Donald Healey would be jealous of. Dad had a passion for whitewalls, so at some point, the Healey sported a set of bias-ply Firestone Deluxe Champion whitewall tires that still grace it today.

I wish I had paid more attention to my dad’s skills back then, but he wanted me to be something that didn’t involve getting grease under the fingernails, so he showed me only basic mechanical skills, trying to keep my interest in check. I graduated from pharmacy school in 1968 and actually think grease under the fingernails is kind of macho, but not when filling prescriptions. Dad drove the car, mostly with the top down, until he passed in 1997, at which point I became the car’s custodian.

Raising 3 kids and working 50 to 60 hours a week as a pharmacy field supervisor for Rite Aid did not leave much time for joy riding, so the car sat for long periods of time, which took its toll. From 2001 to the present day, the car did not leave the garage, and in late 2024, a decision had to be made on its future—sell it or fix it. I couldn’t sell all the good memories so, with the encouragement of my wife, I made some inquiries at a local every Saturday morning cars and coffee get together that was frequented by several British car owners. One fellow with an old Morgan gave me the name of British mechanic Mark Raspi of nearby Sparks, MD.

We gave Mark the job of giving the 100-6 new life, and with his help and the extensive Moss catalog, the restoration is proceeding. I’m amazed at what parts are available these days. Even got new side window rubbers to replace the dry and crumbling originals. So far, Mark has purged the old gas, installed a new fuel pump, replaced the brake lines and hydraulics, flushed the radiator, installed a new fan belt, replaced old seat rails and wooden bases, fitted the seats with lap belts, etc. I myself have been in charge of the paint and powder on the wire wheels, tires, brake drums, and exhaust system.

This birthday marks 80 years for me, and I look forward to being able to give my 3 kids and 5 grandchildren a buckled-up ride with the top down. Maybe they will get a thrill like my dad and I did back in the ’60s and keep the car in the family for another 60-plus years.