Questioni di Famiglia [Family Matters] (Post # 158)

I’m taking time out to pay attention to an important element of any restoration—what has been happening with other members of The Alfatross’ family while she has been permitting me to restore her . . . slowly. Luckily, it’s a pretty small family, but once I started looking into it I realized it is surrounded by a lot of uncertainty, mystery and intrigue—just as there often is with Italian and other human families.

Chassis *01944* competed in the Mille Miglia in '55, '56, and '57. Still going strong!

Chassis *01955* was hot-rodded and re-roofed!.

*01955* no frills cockpit heavily modified for racing.

 

From the first time I laid eyes on The Alfatross I was painfully aware of her rarity. I say painfully because in those days, decades before the Internet, no one knew anything about it—not even how to pronounce Alfa Romeo. On the rare occasion when I did run into someone who was familiar with the Alfa name, they would ask if it was a Giulia or a Giulietta. When I said, no, it’s a 1900, all I got was a blank stare.

Following Post #21 from 2013, I thought now would be good time to update the list I started back then and elaborate on what The Alfatross' brothers and sisters have been up to over the last 7 years. At least 9 of them have changed hands since 2014 (exact figures are unknown). As far as I am aware, the US is home to 13, followed by Italy and Switzerland with 4 each. Spain has 2 while France, the Netherlands, England and Belgium have 1 each for a total of 27—but the numbers are constantly changing. Back in 2013 I was under the impression that around 41 Alfa Romeo 1900 SSZs were produced between 1954 and 1957. Those numbers come from lists published in books such as H-J. Dohren’s Millenove and Michele Marchiano’s Le Zagato citing figures derived from legitimate “official” sources such as Alfa and Zagato factory and PRA (Public Register of Automobiles) records.

A 1900 SSZ "impersonator", one of many!

Since 2013, thanks to the Internet and other sources, I have learned of at least 15 “questionable” cars claiming AR 1900C SSZ DNA. Are they really The Alfatross’ relatives or something else? What is the difference?

How many AR 1900C SSZs were made and how many originals exist?  Big question.  Short answer: nobody knows.  You can look at the Alfa 1900 Companion site http://www.alfacompanion.com/alfa1900/ and see photos of cars claiming original serial numbers, but are they "real"?  And what about the all-important "numbers matching" question?  How many of them have their original engines? They were built to race, and race they did.  Racing has a tendency to take a toll on a vehicle.  Off track excursions, rubbing fenders, over-revving engines in the heat of battle, overwhelming simple water and oil cooling systems in summer's heat, putting victory ahead of the car's well-being . . . there are many reasons why matching numbers cars are rare. 

Chassis *01909*, badly damaged in Venezuela, discarded and resurrected.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that The Alfatross’ family is not that different from a human one. At the risk of over-anthropomorphizing, L’Albatro (The Alfatross) is an offspring of the matrimonio di passione between what are now known as the Zagato and Alfa Romeo Famiglie Reali. It is a very private, almost secretive, family. Official birth and death records exist, but some are suspect. Marriage records even more so. Rumors of bambini illegittimi are rife. The Alfatross’ padre, Duca Alfa Romeo, had several dozen liaisons with what contemporaries described as a very seductive, but perhaps somewhat promiscuous, young bella donna known as Za-Za. Because she belonged to the Gatto family, people called her Zagato. Born in the middle of her generation, called Tipo Due, and baptized Esse Esse Zed (SS Zagato), L’Albatro has brothers and sisters but despite considerable effort by automotive genealogists no one knows exactly how many, what they look like, where they are, or even if they still exist. Only a handful of them seem to have stayed in Italy while over the years a great many immigrated to the US.

Sequestered in an Italian dungeon for decades, *01845* is now sympathetically restored.

Regardless of being born into nobility, the family motto seems to have been vivere velocemente e morire giovane (live fast and die young). Encouraged from birth to compete, they travelled widely often participating in a family feud with their half-siblings and arch competitors, il Otto Vu, sharing the same Za-Za Gatto mother but fathered by Duca Fiat. Some ended up in unhappy, abusive relationships, died in obscurity, and were lost to history. Others were better cared for but over the years suffered injuries and endured complicated reconstructive procedures including even heart surgery and extensive skin grafts, sometimes altering the family resemblance. 

Still others had near-death experiences but were resurrected. Some resurrections did not go well and they became Zagato Zombies. Over the decades, pretenders seeking to cash in on the pedigree of L’Albatro and her siblings emerged from the shadows, mistakenly or falsely claiming Esse Esse Zed heritage. Sorting them out has become very difficult. In the prima serie (1^st Series) of 1900 SSZs there are 14 known “impersonators” using chassis numbers that, at least at one time, were legitimate.

Automotive genealogists attempting to establish the actual identities of 1900 SSZs must tread a fine line between science, legalities, privacy, and diplomacy. SSZ DNA is not complicated arrangements of AGTC but numbers stamped on their firewalls and engines, certain signature shapes and curves of their bodies, and above all, the svelte, sexy physiques they inherited from their mother, gli Zagato. Yes, there is a strong family resemblance—but with notable exceptions. Nose profiles started to droop as time went on, and fenders morphed into “buns of steel”.  Some people liked that, but when doppie bolla (double bubble) roofs appeared it became lust at first sight (automotive historians have pondered where that inspiration came from—perhaps Sophia Loren’s popularity at the time?).

No chassis number.  Inspiration for doppie bolla roof style?

 

*01855*(?)  In period photo of a proud 1900 SSZ owner with his customized car.

It appears that each AR 1900 C SSZ was a custom order. With body color, interior features such as upholstery type and color combination, seat configuration, dashboard shape, shifter location, roof profile, and even number of hood scoops all specified by the buyer. Some cars have had at least 8 successive owners, each of which had a chance to indulge in the natural inclination to modify them further with little or no regard for “preserving originality”.

In addition to recognizing the natural and legitimate changes in 1900 SSZ body shape that occurred at the Zagato factory between 1954 and 1957, automotive genealogists must recognize and categorize all the ways in which original cars can change over time. The Alfatross' siblings include 28 chassis numbers that are fairly well-known and verifiable.  Another 16 are thought to have existed at one time but are now "missing in action".  Finally, there and about 15 “fakes”, some with seemingly legitimate chassis numbers. 

The word “fake” needs nuancing. It implies intention to deceive. My guess is while that is undoubtedly the case in some (many?) instances, in others it may be more benign, as with the now common practice of building “continuation” and “tribute” replicas. I’d like to sort that out for 1900 SSZs, differentiating between outright “fraud” examples (those that bear false chassis and/or engine stampings), largely “original” but damaged or worn out cars, and those that have been “sympathetically restored” and returned to use. It would be a good real life example of the Ship of Theseus thought experiment (Post #45) . . . but that's for a later post--this one is too long already!

 

 

Flossing Fins (Post # 157)

Leading the pack on a glorious New Mexico morning.

 This is the best time of year for road trips in New Mexico. No chance of rain, clear blue cloudless skies, crisp mornings, cool evenings, and trees at higher elevations starting to strut their fall colors. Normally, tourists flock in from Texas and even as far away as Florida, but due to the pandemic the migration this year is reduced. Could be just as well. Unlike New Mexicans, people from those states tend to be somewhat lackadaisical about wearing masks and practicing social distancing in public.  

 

It works, but is it worth it?

According to “The Plan”, The Alfatross and I were supposed to be on the road now, working on refining suspension, steering, engine tuning, and all things related to testing road worthiness. Instead, we are both here in The Shed, me flossing fins on her radiator with pipe cleaners and she impatiently waiting for me to fix everything so she can get back on the road.

Do you know how many fins there are on a 1900C SS radiator?  I do: Cleaning fins is hard work. It helps to pass the time by practicing your math skills. It also helps explain why it takes so long.

Radiator core area = 39.5H X 44L =1,738 cm sq. (one side)

Radiator core fin rows = ca. 4 fins/cm = 158/side

Total length of fins, (both sides) = 158/side X 44 cm X 2 = 13,904 cm

Radiator core tubes (columns) = 28

I mention how many core tubes there are because they break up the 158 rows of fins into 4,424 discrete cleaning areas (each side), thereby compounding the effort it takes to clean them!

 

Virtually invisible, the tiny crack is in the center of the circle.

The delightful opportunity to clean fins was one of those “well, as long as the radiator is  out I might as well go ahead and . . . .  But why is it out? This most recent departure from The Plan, was prompted by the sudden appearance of a radiator leak. Fortunately, it occurred not on the road, but while testing instrument readings at The Shed. Unfortunately, it is still a major bummer, particularly because I pressure-tested the radiator after re-coring and before installation several years ago. The leak appeared as a fine spray of coolant coming from the front of the radiator near the top of the head tank. With the hood off and the engine running, I could see the exact location and snap a photo. 

Angling the radiator and shutter assemblies out together.

 

After sanding the area down to bare metal, I could see what appeared to be an ultra-fine crack at the edge of the soldered joint between the head tank and the new core. After much head-scratching I concluded the best idea would be to remove the radiator, patch the leak, and pressure test it out of the car again in case there might be other weak spots. After all, although the core is new, the tanks are 65 years old!

Andrea Zagato once described the body for the Alfa 1900C SSZ designed by his grandfather as “draped” over the engine and frame . . . and I agree it is a voluptuously seductive design. But . . . just try to get the radiator out without removing the engine first! Tucked up under the car’s nose, it is also firmly attached to the shutter mechanism in front of it that warms the engine up, making the combined assembly twice as thick. 

The thermostat functioned perfectly.

So . . . drain the coolant. Take off the 5 fiendishly fiddly vintage hose bands used to connect the three radiator hoses to the engine. Check the function of the cylinder head thermostat and the other one that operates the shutter. Removing the fan blades will provide another centimeter or two of clearance, but leaves the 5 sharp bolts that hold the blades to the hub exposed. Cover the engine side of the radiator with heavy cardboard to protect it. Take off the 4 bolts, washers and 8 rubber isolators that hold the radiator to the frame and it should come right out. That’s when you discover that it won’t budge unless you first remove two aluminum panels inside the cavity between the body and the radiator bulkhead. To get to them you have to remove the grills with their driving and running lights. As long as you are there anyway, neaten the wiring, thoroughly clean the entire area, and take measurements and photos of the hidden bumper support pipes in case you or the next owner might want to recreate one.

So . . . it is possible after all!

The glossy epoxy patch material matches the radiator's finish.

The extraction itself using an engine hoist was a slow, wiggly, twisty, hold-your-mouth-just-right process but it came out in the end with no damage to itself or the rest of the car. After patching the leak with JB Radiator Weld epoxy, I plugged the openings and pressure tested it to 17 psi without problems. It could have gone back in the car at that point, but the streaks on the fins left by dried coolant bothered me. 

More soul-searching led to the conclusion that there would never be another chance to clean the fins once the radiator goes back in the car, so it’s now or never. It does not have to be spotless, and the front side can’t even be seen once the shutter is in place, so it really isn’t  a big deal. 

It's just frustrating to be removing, patching, cleaning and reinstalling the radiator when on the other side of the overhead door, Legendary Route 66 beckons!

 

 

Obsession (Post # 156 )

I’ve been finishing the instruments, windshield washers, rally clock, firewall insulation and carpets so I can put the seats and transmission hump back in and move on to putting The Alfatross back on the road, but there was one more thing left to do. I can’t believe it took this long to do something seemingly so simple.  

Although restored, the trim strips on the wheel arches of *02056* are well done.

The Alfatross' unadorned wheel arches.

The Problem

When I got The Alfatross in 1969 the interior was complete except for the rear quarter panels that were lost when the previous owner had the car repainted in 1965. As part of The Alfatross’ restoration, I sent it to Paul Russell for re-trimming. There, Derrick Dunbar did a fabulous job, and recreated the missing quarter panels, but because I could not provide him with any information about the thin polished aluminum trim strips on the rear wheel arches protruding into the cabin on either side of the vestigial “back seat”, he omitted them.  Some restored cars do not have them e.g. *01954*, but all of the most original cars I have seen have the same trim strips.  Although The Alfatross’ were lost, the fastener holes were clearly visible in the original upholstery over the steel chassis as well as the chassis itself. 

The restorer of *01954* decided to omit  the trim strips .

Thought to be highly original, *01915* has the trim strips

The Alfatross' original  wheel arch cover showing holes.

The Strategy

Obviously, these hand-made trim pieces are not available at your local Zagato store, and although there might be an experienced aluminum fabricator in my area it was going to be the kind of job that involved a lot of activity inside the car so I decided to take a shot at making reproductions myself. What were the original dimensions?  What type of fasteners were used? What was the level of workmanship?  I didn’t know. The only thing I had to go on was photos of them in original cars.

This is a part of any car that is almost never photographed, but I was lucky enough to get revealing photos of *01915*, *01845*, *02056*, and *01947*.  From them it was clear that each wheel arch had one strip running up over the top adjacent to the quarter panel and another running up the side of the hump, both secured by three screws and meeting at a miter at the top of the wheel arch.  I concluded they were made of aluminum because that was used on virtually all other trim on the car, and because it is relatively easy to shape and can be polished to a bright shine.

Filing and sanding, filing and sanding, filing and sanding

The Process
It seemed like a simple task. All I had to do was find some aluminum bar stock with the right dimensions, cut it to length, radius one edge, create smooth curves hugging the shape of the wheel arches, drill a few holes and screw them into place. The first problem was obtaining the stock. I could not find it locally so had to order it online, and it was only sold in 12 ft lengths that had to be cut down to 6 ft for shipping.  I ruined several pieces trying to create the edge radius, even resorting to nearly disastrous experiments on a router table before finally resigning myself to hours of Old School manual filing and sandpapering.

Capturing the smooth arc of the wheel arch at the quarter panel was a piece of cake, but the strip running up the side of the arch was much more of a challenge because it had to have a three-dimensional shallow S-shape with a subtle twist along its length.  Suffice it to say that my aluminum recycle bin was getting overcrowded.

Annealing and shaping one of the trim strips.

I wasted time making patterns from thin copper strips to create plank-and-wooden-peg bending jigs without much success until I pulled out my propane torch and experimented with annealing the aluminum strips. After that, it was possible to do most of the shaping, bending and twisting with just my bare hands—but it was a tedious business:put it in, take it out, tweak it, repeat. Then there was the necessity of the two pieces meeting in a precise miter at the top of the arch.

The finished product. Obsession satisfied.

The Result

Yes, it took way too long, and maybe it isn’t a perfect match for the original material, but now after final buffing and installation the interior has a more finished appearance in line with the rest of the car.  More importantly, now I can reinstall the seats and carpets and get on with putting The Alfatross back on the road!