First of all, let me raise a toast to myself...#2417 is officially in
the fold today! I have wanted one of these cars since I was age 10 and
today the dream comes true.
While I originally intended this post to be a virtual lovefest for my
first Bricklin and bore you all with stories of woe on all the Bricklins
I might have owned earlier in my life but never did, there is something
far more important to discuss.
When I bought the car, my friend told me he had some "documentation" to
go along with the vehicle. I assumed he meant the owner's manual, and
asked him if this was so. He mistakenly said it was.
When he delivered the car, though, he did not have the owner's manual.
He did, however, have a pristine set of shop manuals. That was valuable
enough, but I wasn't prepared for what else he had.
The person who owned the car before him had apparently been two things:
(a) a meticulous record-keeper, and (b) friends with someone in the
Bricklin company. In addition to full receipts of everything he had done
to this car (including a $6,000 paint job and various mechanical work),
he also had kept a five-inch thick file from Pinckney Volkswagen in
Pensacola, Florida.
In that file are many things, including a letter from Lee Iococca's
department at Ford detailing their production stop on supplies for the
351W. There are mountains of papers on Bricklin Corporation letterhead,
including letters to dealerships.
The most intriguing thing we found, though, was what looks like a
Bricklin engineer's personal notes, taken during what looks like a
brainstorming session. The notes are filled with sketches, doodles, and
random suggestions for improvements to the 1976 models, including the
possibility of adding a cigarette lighter and ashtray and discontinuing
Safety Green as a color.
I haven't even begun to look through all this stuff. It's like finding
artifacts from a long-lost civilization. It will take me weeks to weed
through it all.
In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to enjoy driving ol' #2417.
Jess
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