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Gary Olguin of Barstow, California (and very patient wife Nancy) took a 49 4-Door Sedan that looked great at 20 feet and made it a FANTASTIC car that looks great at 6 inches. A great story will be found at the bottom of the page, following the photos.
The top 2 rows of photos show the car before the work began.
The next 2 rows show the dash & interior that didn't have to be touched.
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Then, starting with the car shown above, Gary hauled it all the way to Carson City, Nevada to his favorite body shop for a job done the "old fashioned way".
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And the results!!!! (Note that the spotlights are gone.)
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Gary sez:
"This is the car I fell in love with. I found it on ebay and had to have it. After purchasing the car I had it brought to California in a covered trailer.
I have three brothers and all of them asked me “why a ’49?” my answer was “’cause it’s not a ’48 and it’s not a ’50.” The real answer is that this year model is so unique from the others. This is the first one with the Proverbial Plymouth “fins” on it. In my opinion, it stands out as the most original and distinct body design of the ’49 through the ’52 body model run. It is one of two years that had the faux wood grain dash. The interior of mine is all-original, minus a couple of gauges that have been replaced. My ’49 has the original mohair interior which I plan to keep as long as my “arrested decay” plan holds out. It has little wear on the back seat and some wear on the front. My idea is to preserve it as long as I can. To leave it just as it is, worn thin in the front and little used in the back. The headliner in my car is awesome. It is a beautiful smoke stained shade of dingy. My buddies tell me it has the characteristic smell of 'old car'. I love it.
My mechanic, whom I respect enormously, told me that the flathead six was original and accurate for a 56 year old car with 49 thousand miles showing on the odometer. Loren rebuilt it in the summer of ‘05. He said that it was leaking oil from every crack and crevice it had. My Plymouth has been redone from the radiator all the way back to the clutch. After new brake shoes and a set of Coker tires (the old ones were pretty square - lumpy ride), I am able to take my ride down the road and trust that we will get there.
After thorough inspection, it was determined by my buddy Paul, that the car had a “twenty foot” paint job. He said that from twenty feet away it looked good. Close up, it had issues. One of the previous owners had the car painted but it was a shoddy job. They failed to mask it properly and over sprayed a lot of the chrome and even the taillights.
Paul owns “Old School” paint and body shop in Carson City Nevada. I was required to ship it to him so that he could repaint my 'Plymot'. He stripped my car of all the old paint and found all the rusted out areas that had to be replaced. Paul and his body man Dave really had to work over the rocker moldings and the quarter panels. The car came out of Pennsylvania so it drove along wintry, salted roads. The underside was badly infected with rust. Long story short, it is a beautiful car. Paul called my wife laughingly and lovingly using expletives (or should I call it what it was - profanity), explained to her, making derogatory remarks about my heritage 'what a rust bucket her old man bought'. That was all right, he could say anything he wanted to. He made my car a showpiece.
Taking into consideration, it’s 1949 suspension. Its only source of air conditioning is a cowl vent on the hood. It’s column shifter and the lack of an overdrive, radio, right side rearview mirror and seat belts - I can’t imagine my parents driving one of these full of kids, eight of us, which they did across US 66 through the Mojave Desert in the 50’s. All the money spent on getting it road worthy and I still trailer it to most events,(can’t imagine why).
An absolute car nut raised my three brothers and me, we counted, my dad owned, as close as we can figure 63 assorted cars and trucks in his lifetime. We always lived with the fear of being traded off for a “new toy.” When my sister went for her first ride in my ’49, she began to cry. She wished our dad could be here to enjoy. All of us caught the car bug. Little brother Ruben in earnest brother-to-brother put-down, says, “he drives a ’64 El Camino, Mike drives a ’65 Malibu, and older brother Gary drives a ’49 ugly car,…. to each his own.
Mike claims that his ’65 Malibu convertible is a chick magnet. I on the other hand concede that my ’49 Plymouth is an old man magnet. Everywhere I take her a cluster of old men come around to reminisce about the one they had.
All said and done, I love my ’49 ugly car."
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