Thursday June 5th, 2025 In Good hands: The Joy of Owning Antique, Classic, or Vintage Vehicles

Our antique 1993 GMC Silverado 4x4 with less than 200, 000 miles, is 32 years old. Is driven regularly.

 

   "In the US, the definition of what constitutes an antique vehicle can vary by state and also depend on the classification used for registration and insurance purposes. However, a general rule of thumb is that a vehicle is considered antique if it's at least 25 years old. Some states may define antique vehicles as being 30 years old or more. The Antique Automobile Club of America (AACA) uses a 25-year age threshold for its definition of an antique car."

 

Our antique 1995 GMC VANDURA Conversion Van is 30 years old. Isn't driven in the winter.

 

   According to Nationwide Mutual Insurance Company, "For insurance and registration purposes, the age of a classic car, in most cases, is at least 20 years old but not more than 40 years old. If you are going to register it (and insure it) as a classic, it should have been kept to its original design and specifications."

 

 

Our antique 1998 Subaru legacy Outback All-wheel Drive wagon is 27 years old. Driven all year around.

 

Our antique 2000 Saturn wagon is 25 years old. Less than 200 thousand miles. Is in good shape but rarely driven.

 

     Furthermore, according to the definitions of Classic, Antique, and Vintage citing, among other designations: 'Price,' 'Historic Status,' and 'Age,' I've decided that all our vehicles, including the 1967 Massey Ferguson 180 Diesel tractor, actually all come under one heading or another, especially 'Historic Status.'

 

 

Our classic antique Massey-Ferguson 180 Diesel Tractor, with 9500 hours on an 38-year old overhaul, is 58 years old and driven as needed all year around.

 

Our definitely antique Historic Status 1987 Toyota SR5 4x4 pickup is 38 years old. I drove it into where it sits beneath the oaks and serves as a storage unit for small tools. Still runs, I think.

 

 The rusty but trusty 1987 Toyota 4x4 SR5 pickup (with a Holley 2-barrel) sits in the woods on white-spoked deep-lugged bias-ply tires. I could probably get running if I had to too but, at my age, it's a far better project for a younger person who wants to tinker with such a vehicle and learn how to drive a 5-speed stick, as likely did their great-grand parents when automobiles first appeared on roadways the world over. (BTW, It's for sale.)

 

   Maintaining the five of them, periodically, (including the tractor) is our story today. No matter our rationalization for keeping all of them versus purchasing a single newer vehicle on which we'd have to make monthly car payments plus pay higher full-coverage insurance rates all year around, doesn't add up for the few thousand miles we drive now as we age. Herein lies a tale or two as it played out recently on May 30--31, 2025.

 

 "The Subaru's done," I said to my wife. "So's the van. I'll call 'Uncle Wayne' to see if he's able to give me a ride to get the van, first; (a cross-country trip of 37 miles, one-way.)

 

 "Uncle Wayne" is a nickname of a treasured friend of ours, for 40 some years now. At 85, he's physically active, long retired, and often game for short road trips that often include a meal and lively conversation at the end. I'm confident in his driving ability, for we've put many miles on our vehicles, for one another, over the years despite his legendary life's driving stories that start out, "Did I ever tell you about the time I drove a Peterbilt with a trailer full of logs behind it, into a ditch and out again at Eidesmoe’s Sawmill?' I may have added he was a lot younger then, than he is now; reflexes being paramount.

 

  Depending on the season, he drives either his long-bed 4x4 pickup truck or 2-whl drive short box Dakota on our cross-county trips. Although, I admit, when he periodically grazes the right-side, white-line/rumble strip on the highway on occasion, my anxieties become just shy of Broadway interpretive dance  performances. Taking note of my cringing behavior, he'll sooner or later ask me, "You okay over there? Ain't worried are you? Did I ever tell you about the time in my new '58 Biscayne, only had it about three weeks when ..."

  We entered the 40 mph two-lane Highway 11 construction zone on the west side of Warroad right at shift change at Marvin Windows & Doors on Friday afternoon, the largest employer in town. This intermittent stop & go restricted-flow traffic was combined with the slow-moving crush of Lake of the Woods, and Canada-bound tourists driving hulking motor homes, camper trucks and SUVs that were pulling travel trailers and boats and snaking along the predominant concrete barricades, stopping at stop signs, turning to enter gas stations, restaurants, and cross-roads. What adventure for us two country boys!

  I could see the van parked ahead, just off the corner of the garage at Warroad Motors. I motioned to Wayne where to stop so I could get out. Knowing what hilarity happened last year when he dropped me off, he said he'd wait for me until I left with the van, but I told him to go on home; that everything was going to be all right. The mechanic had assured me it was set to go on the trip we had planned for the first week of June. All is right with the world.

 
 Happily, the charges weren’t as much as I expected. The mechanic and I visited as we walked out to the van. I started it up. The AC blew cold very rapidly even while sitting there at idle
in the sun. The mechanic told me of everything he had installed and tested, even assuring me that, “There are no water leaks,” referring to last year’s debacle when I only got as far as Doug’s Supermarket a mile away, and had a radiator hose leak just as I drove into their lot. They came, tracked me to where I sat, and rescued me with their tow truck; took me back, fixed the hose without charge, and sent me on my way with the AC working perfectly.

 

  The AC in the van worked great all last summer. When I started it up this year, the AC worked wonderfully one day, but not the next. Thinking it should be under warranty, I quickly called them to make an appointment. A couple weeks later through efforts by the mechanic, the pending warranty issue was resolved. The mechanic asked where it was we were heading on our next trip with it, then said thanks and goodbye -- and off I went into traffic, adjusting air vents, and settling into the trip to Roseau, then home to Wannaska. I had to buy some much desired soda crackers for the little woman.

  Two miles west of Warroad I started to detect a decline of cold air. No, no, no, no! Finally convinced that I was feeling what I suspected but didn't want to believe, knowing I wouldn't be able to convince the wife otherwise, I turned around and went back. I drove into the parking place I had just left, seeing the mechanic talking to a customer. When he recognized me, his smile faded. 

 

  Quickly ending his conversation, he walked to where I was opening the hood. I restarted the engine, running the AC. He saw the issue immediately; the AC clutch he had just put in, was bad. We could smell it. He acted disgusted about it. I cut him a break by explaining that I understood what he was going through, as my Roseau mechanic has had many experiences over the years with substandard automobile parts he has been shipped. Combined with the unavailability of trained mechanics in this region, and a limited workforce of those who are, substandard automotive parts are a huge problem of downtime for them and their customers as rework; removing the bad parts from customer's vehicles, shipping or mailing them back, and waiting maybe for weeks, for their replacements.

  The Warroad Motors mechanic said, “You can take my car,” and walked hurriedly away to drive his own vehicle around to where I was standing, handing me its keys on a long lanyard. Waving me goodbye, he marched toward the NAPA store next door. "I'll call you tomorrow!"

 

  After telling my story to a few friends, one of them in Iowa emailed me, "Go to somebody else." Normally, that would be rational advice, but I've seen with my own eyes that Warroad Motors, and Kevin's Garage, in Roseau, are places where their people strive to do a good job for each and every one of their customers, and service includes respect, reliability, and action until things are right. They both have my loyalty. I'm not going someplace else.

   For being an not-yet-an-antique 2008 Suburban without AC, the mechanic's car rode pretty good. It took a while to figure out the cruise-control, but it got me to Roseau without issue. I went direct to Super One to get the much-longed for soda crackers my wife had asked me to get —several times. Then I went to Kevin’s Garage to see about the Subaru, and what I owed on it. Discovering a very strange dimly lit garage; the whole work bay dark, I was surprised when a tired-looking Kevin looked up at me from his desk, and said, “I’m leaving here in 12 minutes.”

  “Whoa! I didn’t know it was so late! I won’t keep you,” I said, looking around for the wall clock. “Is the Subaru ready to go? It's sitting in the lot.”

  "It must be. Todd usually leaves the keys here on my desk," Kevin said, looking to his left, amid a stack of invoices andwhatnot. “Maybe they’re on the wall there. Maybe, the green one?”

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to see. The Subaru had been there since the end of February.

  “These?” he said, reaching for a single key on a short lanyard and green aluminum carabiner on it. “Yes, I said. “It’s been so long I didn’t remember what they looked like. “I’ll come in and pay you next week, okay?”

   "That's fine," he said eager to go home at last.

   The best thing about getting the Subaru fixed, other than getting its head gaskets changed out finally, the mechanic fixed the AC too, that hadn’t worked for three years. Now if I can find a ride back to Roseau to get that one home...

   Lee from Warroad Motors, called me about 10:00 am, said the van was done. I could pick it up anytime before one o’clock, but if I couldn’t make it, he’d leave the keys in it. He said to just drop off his truck in the lot someplace.

 I drove Lee's truck to Warroad to get the van about noon, and back home in time to go on another errand at 2:30. Then at 4:30 rode with a neighbor to get the Subaru in Roseau. The van's AC was frosty all the way home; I was delighted. But then, as I sat in it, in the yard, listening to the radio, I thought I heard a vibration noise coming from under the hood. I opened the hood to listen, and see what I could — it was the clutch on the AC!

 

   I called Lee immediately, told him everything was cold all the way home. But I was concerned about the noise of course. It was still delivering the cold ... then Lee said, "It's all right."

"What? You say, it's all right?"

 

  He said he thought it just needed to wear-in and if I had any issues to call him, requiring faith on my part ..."Okay here goes."

 

Four days in, and it still works. Thanks, man. 

1995 GMC VANDURA Conversion van and 1998 Subaru Legacy Outback wagon. In good hands.