Very roughly translated, “mono no aware” is a Japanese term that describes a morose, keen awareness of the transience of things. This feeling drifted acutely over me this week as I wandered through 50 years of old cars in a local junkyard that will soon be “crushing out.” It’s all too fresh to write a complete CC about, but I came home with a couple of parts that accentuate my feeling that industrial America no longer cares about aesthetics.
Exhibit A: This Holley 1904 has a glass float bowl. The carburetor sat atop a ’57 Ford six-cylinder, and is a reminder of the time when automakers painted their engines because the owner may actually look under the hood. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say the glass bowl was a gimmick so owners and mechanics could observe float behavior without turning a screw, but a side benefit is that the carburetor became a work of art.
The passage of time has, if anything, made this old Holley even more spectacular. Years of direct sunlight has bleached the carburetor a stark, ghostly gray, and the steel parts are coated with a coppery rust to add contrast. This carburetor is frozen tight, but I didn’t buy it as a “rebuilder.” I bought it as a reminder that Holley did this once…they gave it a shot, and I’m happy that it’s sitting in my garage.
Exhibit B: I also came home with the brake pedal from a ’65 Thunderbird. I don’t own a ’65 T-Bird, but I have always been in love with the unique brake pedal on these first disc-braked T-Birds. Discs were uncommon on American cars in 1965, and Ford proudly took the time to shape the brake pedal insignia like a disc brake rotor.
Like the Holley, I picked this up to keep as a memento not only because I think it’s beautiful, but also because it would soon cease to exist if I hadn’t. Junkyards across America are closing down and taking years of America’s history with them. Nobody’s to blame; it’s just happening. While most of the parts I found, even for cars I own, were worn out by time, I found it important to save a few things for beauty’s sake alone.
I managed to come home with a few things, and eventually I’ll write up my trip, but I can’t quite do it yet. Being one of the final observers of things I love took some wind out of my sails, because one person can’t save everything. It’s a bit of a helpless feeling. Time passes, however, and none of us get used to it. So If you can, go out and save something: an emblem, a piece of trim, a whole car if you can manage it. By doing something, maybe we can stall time for just a little bit.
Love those old Holley glass bowl carbs, have not seen one in years!
I have not seen one ever!
Me neither.
My 1952 6-cylinder Ford pickup had one.
I vividly remember those Disc Brake pedals in new Fords of the 60s. I didn’t know what disc brakes were, but I knew they were something worth having.
I love the old carb with the glass float bowl. It reminds me of the glass sediment bowl that served as a fuel filter on my Model A. So simple and functional. “Is there dirt in the carb? Gimmie a flashlight and we’ll look.” Bit by bit, so much ease of diagnosis and service have been designed out of cars for cost reasons. I still miss the old air conditioner sight glass in my old Chryslers that made the check of refrigerant levels a breeze.
Yep, I first saw that Disc Brake pedal as a 6 year old at Saskatoon’s Dominion Ford in January 1967, in a soon to be ours ’67 LTD coupe. It was one of many firsts I found in that car, along with a built-in tape player, power locks, and a remote control mirror.
My 76 Chevelle had a Disc Brakes pedal pad, but it was cast into the rubber, I still have an extra one or two of those for future cars, I even swapped one onto my 4 wheel disc brake equipped 86 Pontiac 6000-STE just for fun.
When I was a small child, my mother had a ’74 Pinto with a similar insignia on the brake pedal. I didn’t know what disc brakes were at the time, either, but I still remember that brake pedal. I assume that over time, Ford must have rolled these out to additional models as they became available with disc brakes, until things reached a point where (front) disc brakes where no longer really notable, maybe by the late ’70s. (As I understand it, the last American cars available with drum brakes on all four wheels were the 1976 Mopar A-bodies.)
I’m sure other cars from the ’70s that my family owned must have had front disc brakes as well, but I have no memory of seeing anything like this in any car other than the Pinto, not even in other Fords from that era that my parents or grandparents owned.
Tightening EU rules on industrial pollution saw many traditional old junk yards/fields cleared this side of the Atlantic before the turn of the Millennium. There is often a beauty in the minutiae of older manufactured objects. I’ve got a few car badges (mainly ones I’ve made models of) but I think my favourite is the script style ‘Cortina’ from the Mk.II/III models http://thumbs2.ebaystatic.com/d/l225/m/mRKAoavbYeNIL09h6WFK2XA.jpg
What’s polluting about a junkyard? Main thing is not to let fluids reach the water table. A proverb: “Where no oxen are, the manger is clean, but much increase comes by the strength of the ox.”
Or is it Industrial Policy to prevent people from keeping old cars running, instead of buying new ones keeping corporations & unions happy?
I recall a CC article before about the Alfa twincam being a work of art. Italians seem to have a flair for design, whether in clothes or cars. Don’t know why, maybe it’s all that classical art lying around.
Sometimes it is fear of pollution, sometimes it’s progress (the junkyard I used to go to in my hometown was removed for a new highway around the year 2000), sometimes it’s “beautification” if it’s not in an area that’s already industrial. Sometimes it’s older folks retiring or passing on and their children have chosen a different line of work. And the ones that remain, even if they are still of the u-pull type rather than “counter service” yards that only employees can set foot in, tend to only have newer vehicles. Like all other businesses, they’re being optimized, and older cars with low parts demand don’t last long before heading off to the crusher to make room for a more lucrative late-model.
It’s kind of sad…I do love wandering around old, established junkyards and looking at what’s back in the weeds, and wondering how long it’s been there…but it’s a business in the end.
It hasn’t stopped house building on old scrapyards.I miss the old scrappies.
Gotta love a glass bowl Holley, the front carb on my dual carb intake is a glass bowl, and once I get around to putting it on, the rear car will also have a glass float bowl. Its always nice to pop the hood and see the Alpine green engine and glass bowl Holley on the ’52 F-3.
So what does the X on the Michigan plate mean?
I believe it’s a Municipal plate, so it would be attached to a city-owned vehicle.
I’m quite surprised that a city/county let a diamond X or exempt plate in a car they junked out. Add to that such a friggin’ old one.
Well, it was probably expired; not undated-and-use-forever like newer exempt plates.
Correct. That nomenclature is still used today in Michigan.
Used to love walking around in Junkyards. One in Dodge City covered several acres and had complete cars. Could get lost there.
Don’t know when the glass floats were phased out and see no really good reason why except that the floats on the four barrels were placed in the body of the carb. Times goes on and I can guarantee it’s happened for a while.
Nice ;
I well remember these carbys in the 1960’s when 6 cylinder Fords were every where .
I had one on my ’59 ex U.S.A.F. runway crash truck Ford from Ayers AFB in 1967 , ever I moved to California I had two more ’59 Fors F100’s and a ’62 Galaxie Coupe , all with that same InLine 6 engine so I made sure every one got the glass float bowl and kept it crystal clean at all times .
It’s a sad thing that over 50 % of all junkyards then as now , crush most of their inventory rather than actually sell it at reasonable cost .
When I ran a Junkyard I always had plenty of stock and turned it over rapidly , I didn’t want to hold onto anything , I was in Business to make $ so I sold the living hell out of those old parts .
Anything I actually scrapped out was well and truly worthless .
-Nate
There are some very beautiful parts from cars of the 50-70s and I think we all like the concept of large junkyards that one can roam through looking at the past. Given the cost of land near population centers, the environmental limitations (and yeah, junked cars do leak fluids into the ground, even at modern salvage yards), and the continuing move away from fixing things, I think even a very savvy owner would have to work very very hard to make money selling parts rather than pounds of crushed steel. Nate you may have been the exception. I don’t see a viable business model here.
Mono No Aware–I was never taught this phrase in my high school Japanese class (I wasn’t taught much in Japanese class).
There’s something about carburetors which is spectacular to me; they seem so much more complicated than fuel injection (maybe not the latest piezoelectric, commonrail nightmares), and working on them and keeping them functioning well requires a degree of mechanical sympathy and a delicate touch.
This compels me to find a closing wrecking yard and buying what I can as souvenirs.
I remember the fancy pedals on my dad’s 64 Galaxie XL, like the ones in the pic, and the brake pedal in my aunt’s 70 Ambassador that said “safe command”.
The glitz is still there in cars. It all goes into the in-dash video games.
Engines have plastic covers on them, so if you are foolish enough to lift the hood, you see another barrier warning to keep your hand out.
We all hate to see things we grew up with go away, but I realized long ago I can’t save everything. I live in a small condo with a one car garage to make sure I don’t drag stuff home, because there is no place to put it.
The original Carter fuel pump on my 1964 Rambler American had a glass fuel bowl with a nice brass filter screen inside. It was nice to know at a glance if you were getting enough fuel. Its replacement had a stamped steel bowl.
I like the stuff, the post, Japanese esthetic theory, and the rather melancholic tone. My son and I visited a trolley museum recently and fell in love with so many elegantly tired machines. This image is actually of an old bus. It struck me as an illustration of wabi sabi:
“Characteristics of the wabi-sabi aesthetic include asymmetry, asperity (roughness or irregularity), simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy…”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wabi-sabi
@Nate..nice to hear you actually sold parts. Round here (CT) mostly what you get when you ask if they got a part is “Nope” even though their yard is full of ’em. Pick and pulls are going away ‘cuz of thieves and insurance liability. Yard near me looks like they walked over anything older than 1999 with a Cat D9.
Is that a ‘Swing-Away’ wheel on that T-Bird?
I remember glass float bowls….*sigh*
” The primary business of business , is _BUSINESS_ ” .
Sadly , so few seem to grasp this simple concept .
Collecting old junk is fine but then do not pretend you’re running a used parts Business .
Don’t you just hate it when they say ‘ nope ‘ and you can SEE the junker with the parts you need through the fence ? .
-Nate
Even at the junkyard I referred to in my post, there were no “deals.” For example, there were TWO ’53 Buick Special Rivieras like mine on the property. The only thing on them worth saving was the beltline trim, and getting that off the car would be nearly impossible considering the years of corrosion freezing the windows in place, etc. I didn’t even ask, because the prices for the stuff I bought were only fair. It’s too bad, because most of this stuff doesn’t add much weight for salvage. So many of these cars had complete engines and drivetrains, but they were useless from years of sitting in a forest.
:..industrial America no longer cares about aesthetics.”
It could be, and probably is, a reflection of what the buying public is willing to pay for. I would be very interested to know what it would cost to produce a ’64 Thunderbird today.
The Colt 1911 pistol is an example of an outmoded design still in production. Designed a little more than 100 years ago, the all-steel handgun typically costs about $600-800 for a decent, entry-level gun, while a comparable gun made with modern techniques and materials can be had for about $300-400.
It’s brutal, I know. As an artist working in oil paint I can honestly say I feel your pain.
We had a discussion about this recently on the vintage tractor board I hang out on. Speculation ranged around the reality that today’s engineers have rarely gotten their hands dirty – they design behind a computer monitor. In many cases, they may never even hold the finished part they “designed.”
50+ years ago, the designer/engineer worked with their own hands and with the actual metal/wood/what have you. There’s an attention to detail in older products that only comes through intimate contact with the material and processes themselves.
When I started the Industrial Design program at Georgia Tech, I was in the last class taught by the outgoing Materials and Processes instructor who had been there for years. He was very old-school, and in our woodworking project, we were not allowed to turn on any power tools. We were handed a rough-sawn piece of oak and told to turn it into a perfect 3″ cube using only hand tools. We were graded with a precision square and a micrometer. Each of us *learned* the wood much more intimately than we ever would have running it through a table saw and belt sander.
I love working on my 1950 Ford 8N, and my early ’60s Volkswagens. Everything on them is there for a reason and has had thought and care put into the design. “Form follows function” is how we were taught. Nowadays, the engineer starts with the function and just hacks together enough 3D geometry to hold it in place. What passes for “form” is whatever fad happens to be flitting through social media, which is why we have so many ‘modern’ vehicles with fussy, disconnected styling elements.
/rant
When I pulled the dead OHC six out of my ’66 Tempest, I kept the valve cover, as it’s a beautiful casting in and of itself. It now hangs on my shop wall.
Well said Ed. Funny you should bring up our VW’s because I saw this comparing my TR4 to my Beetle. The Triumph parts were individually beautiful works of art, whereas the VW parts were much more functional.
For an example the TR4 distributor had a separate cast iron base, with a bronze bushing for the shaft, an angled gear drive for the tach cable and a thumbscrew for adjusting the timing. The VW, you just put it directly into the hole in the case. Not as elegant, but simpler and ultimately better too.
I see it in motorcycle parts too. 1980’s Hondas have very nicely crafted components. My 1993 Kawasaki, not so much.
The distributor on my 8N is mounted to the front of the engine, directly driven off the camshaft. There’s an off-center slot and corresponding tab on the distributor so it’s impossible to put it on out of time. Two bolts hold it in place. It’s as dead simple as you can get and never needs to be retimed. Keep in mind, the N Series tractors were designed to replace a team of horses, and had to be easily field fixable with minimal tools and skill.
In late 1950, Ford went to a side-mount modern-style distributor, which is arguably easier to tune up (points adjustment, etc.), but is also arguably less simple.
My old 1948 Ford flathead V8 had the front mounted distributor. Pain to get at the (dual) points, down there between the motor and radiator, but I also don’t remember ever having to fool with them.
Oh man, those front mounted distributors are simple, but tough to get on and off due to the lack of space between the engine and radiator/front cowling.
If you hold your tongue just right, it can be done in less than three minutes. (c:
That’s a very good point. The same is true in architecture. Architects rarely understand the materials and workmanship they call for in their designs today. With computer aided design it has become very easy to cut and paste and so the aesthetic of a building becomes an outgrowth of a computer program rather than a man developing form and space with his hands, eye and mind and a pen and paper.
Builders will also fight any attempt to “beautify” a new building with an older aesthetic because it generally makes more trouble for them.
Modernism today as a style is as much – perhaps more – about laziness in design and manufacture as it is about clean form.
…the reality that today’s engineers have rarely gotten their hands dirty – they design behind a computer monitor.
It’s stunning how little formal education some pioneering engineers had.
E. J. Hall, of Hall-Scott didn’t get beyond the 6th or 8th grade.
Jesse Vincent, added a couple engineering correspondance courses from ICS to his 6th grade education. He was head of engineering at Packard through that company’s glory days.
Hall and Vincent codesigned the Liberty aircraft engine of WWI.
Kelly Johnson was an engineering grauduate of the University of Michigan, but was not above getting his hands dirty. I have read of an incedent when he was running the Lockheed skunk works when they had a problem with a panel on an airplane flexing at high speed. Kelly came down from his office, took a piece of paper and sissors and cut and folded the paper into the shape of the brace he wanted for that panel. Directed a worker to fabricate that piece from sheet aluminum, then make up the drawing from the finished piece.
A 1911 also has a lot more parts that have to be finished to a high standard to work. A Glock-type gun has less than half of the precision machine work required compared to a 1911.
About painted engines: once I had given a Pontiac 301 cui V8 engine to my “maestro”. He’s a part time or so called hobby mechanic who is originally a locomotive designing engineer… I didn’t bother on colour of the engine until the moment when he reminded me that Pontiac had lacquered their engines with blue… As the car had been assembled in GM’s former Bienne Switzerland plant, originally the engine was not painted by the manufacturer’s specifications. But to give back the real essence of the Pontiac feeling, we had finally decided to source identical paint to the original and lacquere the engine by the North-American tradition. About old car parts: as cars came and went away, some dismantled parts stood and probably shall stay in the garage as kinds of former industrial era relics…not too much of those only few of them.
That Holley is an amazing artifact of what was. The Japanese Nikki carburetors (as used on early RX-7s) also used clear float bowls so you could see what was going on.
Sadly there are reasons why don’t make them the way they used to. Sometimes it’s cost cutting, sometimes it’s changes in process. To riff on Chuck’s comment about the Colt 1911, gun making has moved form forged and turned parts to molded and CNC milled parts which changed both the shape and feel of things, as in the difference between a 1911 and a Glock.
“The carburetor sat atop a ’57 Ford six-cylinder, and is a reminder of the time when automakers painted their engines because the owner may actually look under the hood.”
And now car makers put covers on the engine so the owner cannot see or touch the engine(at least easily)
I will say that I am glad the carburetor has passed into history as far as cars are concerned.
I think the logical extension of this is something I once read about the Audi A2 city car–not sure if this was apocryphal or actually true (maybe one of our European readers can verify or refute). It was said that, on that car, there was no traditional “hood”. There was a panel that the owner could raise that allowed maintenance items to be checked–oil & transmission dipsticks, brake, steering, washer fluid. But the engine itself was off limits, not accessible to the owner without some disassembly involving bolts keyed with a special tool that only the dealership would possess.
That sounded a little far-fetched to me at the time, but I think that’s the direction we’re headed. Sealed vehicles that will, by and large, be junked at the first major failure once the warranty expires. The end of “cars” and the rise of “transporation appliances.” And if that happens, we’ll be the guys in the one lane on the road that still allows human-driven vehicles…okay, dystopian future rant over.
No it actually had a “normal” hood (albeit a pretty small one and lacking hinges). The “Serviceklappe” – German for Service Panel – was a plastic panel, in place of the front grille, which you could flip out to get access to oil filling tube, dipstick, screen washer fluid filling tube etc.
To remove the hood, you had to pull two knobs that were hiding under the Service Panel – no need to unscrew anything. The Service Panel itself was held on its hinges by two screws, though, and could be easily replaced to change the look of the car, just like the iPhone color case.
Not much different from a full-size van from the 1970s, with the exception that you could remove the van’s engine cover between the front seats to get at the engine for service.
But your comment also made me think of smart phones and tablets, where batteries, ram, etc. are not replaceable. You buy what you think you’ll need up front and usually replace the device well before the battery reaches EOL. That’s a far cry from the early days of PCs, where everything was replaceable/upgradeable/moddable.
You are describing the engine accessibility of the Porsche Boxster, which is designed for no owner involvement in maintenance and repairs. Engine access is possible only from below with the car on a lift. The “hood” in the rear opens to expose a luggage compartment, not the engine compartment, and an oil dipstick and the engine coolant tank are all that are visible, I believe. That arrangement dates back to the mid-1990s. It is the main reason why I have never looked seriously at a Boxster – I can’t relate to it as a machine.
Same as VW Typ III’s ~ the engine was below the rear luggage compartment , only dip sticks were visible until you rolled back the carpet and un latched and raised the trunk floor .
-Nate
Such glass windows were typically used to properly adjust fuel level in the float chamber. By tinkering with the needle valve. Don’t know if that’s the case with this particular Holley, though. On newer carbs, you didn’t have the glass window, just a mark on the outside wall of the float chamber that shows the correct level. What makes adjustment much less convenient, as fuel level drops slightly after you start the engine, so you want to control it visually, in dynamics. Most pre-1970s Soviet carburetors had it, the first one without was the Italian Weber that came with the Fiat-124. Old Japanese carbs like L20b Hitachi and Nikki 28/32 had it as well.
Fancy pedals on US cars always surprised me, this one seems to be in extraordinary good shape for a junkyard car built 50 years ago. I wonder if this “disk brake” insignia could make the driver’s foot slip off the pedal, it covers almost 1/3 of its area and seems to be quite slippery.
This Holley does not have an external float adjustment; it’s all by bending the tab. Of course, some newer Holleys and Holley clones have sight glasses or removable plugs to adjust the floats.
You see the difference in license plates too. A weathered old license plate will have patina….
…and a new one, while flashy when it’s in mint condition, will simply fade away.
I remember my mom’s 1958 VW had a glass “sediment bowl.” You could look to see if there was first in the fuel system. Very good invention.
My fathers first Holden came with that warning on the brake pedal 1966 was the first time I saw it on a HR Holden Special wagon, he explained what it meant though the significance was lost on a 8yr old. I like wsight glasses in carby float bowls if the car shudders to a stop one glance will tell you if its getting fuel Japanese cars often featured a glass window in the carb, No 6 cylinder Fords from the US were assembled
here so Ive not seen the Holley from one its cool.
Whenever I’ve wandered thru a wrecking yard, I’m just struck by how much work and effort it took to make all this stuff. All those thousands working at a manufacturing plant to supply the thousands at the final assembly plant. And that’s just half the equation, then you had all that work and effort to buy the damn thing. And now it’s just rusting away and not worth 1% of what it cost to make…
I have an octagonal speedometer off something other than an MG in the garage that I picked up for this reason.
I think part of the change you could attribute some of this to the better design analysis and casting or production abilities so that you have thinner material sections with stiffening ribs for a more efficient but less aesthetic design. Tighter costings also affect this, with things like cast iron engine blocks left unpainted because it doesn’t ‘matter’, also engine bays missing clearcoat.
I lust over that glass float bowl for my 52, it presently has a metal cover. They’ve become pretty expensive.
It may be possible to save that carb; remove everything possible and soak it in boiling oil (YARRRRRGGGGHHH). If some things won’t come off you’re worried about them, use less hot oil to get everything loose; then let the main body soak for a while in the boiling oil (SHIVER ME TIMBERS).
This is also a way to remove/replace pressed-in brass parts, like the ones that like to fall off of old VW carbs & burn the car to the ground.
Also, leave a little room at the end of the (proper-size) fuel line. Clamping down on the hose can hold the brass inlet tube & pull it out a little at a time until disaster.
Two left hands here, mechanically speaking. But you’re absolutely right about the beauty of these old pieces of functional design. The glass float bowl reminds me of the glass bubble/window that used to be on the side of petrol bowsers which showed the fuel running through.
Great article – spent many a weekend rooting through all the treasures one can find in a junkyard.
O-tsukarisama-deshita…..
Today if your car is more then about 20 years old, the car’s at u-pull lots are too new. That glass bowel carb is a great find. The VDO clock and speedo from my 66 VW Type 3 must have weighed close to 5 lbs each, thick metal and glass, very little plastic. They look like they cost 5 times as much to manufacture than a typical plastic instrument of today. They are a lot more interesting to look at. Now I guess they would be considered greatly overbuilt. Actually the whole car, considering that it was mostly metal except for upholstery and interior trim.
I am in the market for on of those carbs. I do not care what shape it is in, as it is only for a display I am putting together.