The Garage Band
During the restoration process, he is very particular that every single bolt and washer is authentic. He buys them even if he doesn’t need them right away, wrapping them in newspaper to protect them from coastal humidity and storing them away. He knows every single bit of trim that went into every one of Fiat’s early models in India. He can tell the difference in the pattern in the floor rubber mats as they changed over time. “Your eyes become extremely alert to look for the details when you are working on a restoration project.”
As you get deeper into this world, you understand why so much of its denizens’ conversations centre around spares. Getting your hands on them can be a frustrating process, and it can take years to get a car to its original specifications.
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Image: Amit Verma
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A ROYAL TREAT: Delhi-based lawyer, Diljeet Titus with Buick 1935 Series 90L, one of only 151 models produced of which only 16 survive today | |
Inder Pal Singh Gill from Ludhiana says it took him almost two years to restore his Super Beetle. He started by ordering a how-to book off Amazon (which took more than a month to arrive), and then: “I asked Volkswagen to issue the original ‘birth certificate’ of the car which had all the original specifications — the date the car was made, the colour, parts code, interiors.” Research done, he had to wait for the complete engine overhaul kit, bumper, chrome trimmings, headlights, taillights, wheel caps and rubber kits which he imported from Canada. Just overhauling the engine took six more months.
C.S. Ananth can feel his pain. “It requires enormous amount of research, hunting for spares, sometimes even fabricating them. The Indian Customs prohibits import of used spares. This is quite funny. How does the government expect me to get new spares for a vintage car?” Ananth is 65, and recuperating from an almost fatal pneumonia infection which he contracted in the course of a routine surgery.
Over the last two decades, he has won several accolades for his restoration skills, but he doesn’t really need to rebuild other people’s car for a living. His eyes are tired, but as his gaze alights on the young man pounding metal into shape on the roof of a car, he lights up. “This is a one-of-its-kind car in India, worth all the effort in making it up.” Ananth is directing his team — a body beater, a mechanic and a carpenter — as they restore a 1946 Riley that belongs to his old friend, A. Sivasailam, chairman of the Amalgamations Group. But Ananth is getting impatient.
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| Image: Amit Verma |
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MAKEOVER MAN: Mechanic Lakhwinder Singh gives a 1957 Chevrolet BelAir a onceover at Daljeet Titus' workshop
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He has spent more than Rs. 6 lakh, almost twice his initial estimate, on the Riley. The roof and the windshield are being re-done for the sixth time. “It was just not looking right,” he says. Thanks to the four months he spent at the hospital, he is also running late: 18 months have passed since he started work.
The challenge, though, keeps him going, overruling his body’s protests. He’s very tired, and he can longer drive his vintage cars (he owns a dozen, including a 1928 Essex Super Six Convertible, the only one in India, a 1936 Fiat 500 and a 1930 Austin 12/4 Burnham Saloon). That he desperately wants this job done is clear. It’s not just wanting to make his friend happy; just as much, he is looking forward to the satisfaction of putting another rare model on the road. “It is frustrating but the Riley was a very technologically advanced car for those times. It is like preserving a piece of history for ever.”
Diljeet Titus, who heads his own law firm in Delhi, knows that feeling. He says that his motivation is simple. “Quite a few of the cars I own belonged to the Maharajas of India. This is my way of preserving the remnants of Indian nobility."
He must be a very, very successful lawyer, because his collection easily outnumbers my set of dinky cars. He owns 70 vintage and classic cars, 11 vintage motorcycles and four horse carriages. His current restoration project is the Minerva 1933 AL, a 40 HP model powered by a 6616cc 8-cylinder engine with sleeve-valves, custom-built in Belgium by Minerva Motors SA for the Maharaja of Mehmudabad.
The company made just 33 of that model from 1930 to 1934, and only eight survive today. One is with the King of Belgium, six with private collectors in the United States and Titus owns the eighth. He has already spent more than Rs. 15 lakh on the car and in another two months it should be ready. “It is 22 feet long, has gold plated interiors and the engine itself is a piece of art. She is just so graceful and elegant.”
Nice to have a hobby, isn’t it?
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