Invicta Victory

Story and photos by Rolland Rahr

In the fall of 1990, my husband Peter and I embarked on a driving tour from our home in Waukegan, Ill., to Bar Harbor, Maine. We would be in the eastern United States during the week of the peak fall colors, making it a spectacular time for a road trip. On the way, I mentioned I was considering trading in my ’89 Acura Integra, the car we were driving, for a new Chrysler LeBaron convertible. Peter’s reaction wasn’t favorable. He described the LeBaron as “driving like a pillow on wheels.” He made the throwaway comment, “an old convertible would be a lot more fun.” Like that tune you can’t stop hearing, for the rest of the trip I couldn’t get thoughts about an old convertible out of my head.

Just outside of Ithaca, N.Y., we stopped for gas. I went inside to pay (there were no gas pump credit card readers back then), and on my way out I passed a magazine rack where I saw my first issue of Auto Hunter. Magazine in hand, I returned to the car. We completed the last leg of the trip and arrived at our motel at bedtime. Though exhausted, I couldn’t resist picking up the Auto Hunter before turning out the lights. I was absolutely gob-smacked at what I saw! Prior to that moment, if and when I saw an old car, I believed it was a thrilling fluke of nature. I had no clue an old car hobby even existed!

The shopper immediately transported me back to a Saturday morning in September 1956 when my dad took me with him for the first peek at the 1957 models. I clearly recall the awe I felt as the newspaper pages were slowly peeled off the dealer’s windows to reveal the new cars. 1957 was a remarkable year for all car manufacturers, and all offerings that year looked new and breathtakingly modern. My enthusiasm for cars never waned from that moment.

One ad in the Auto Hunter particularly intrigued me. The text read “1962 Buick Murta Convertible.” I knew “Murta” was a mistake, and guessed it was likely an “Invicta.” Puzzled over how such a mistake could have been made, I picked up pen and paper and wrote “Murta“ in the fanciest, most exaggerated style I could, and there it was! I concluded whoever set the type for the ad misread the seller’s information, and thus “Invicta” became “Murta.” The curious ad and Peter’s comment about buying an old car piqued my curiosity sufficiently to make me want to see the car. My appreciation for 1962 Buicks began when I saw them new and thought they were the most beautiful Buicks ever. With smooth but sculpted body sides, front fenders that swept back aft of the headlamps and the rearward-slanting tail, the car looked like it was in motion. Peter was excited as well as his grandfather only drove Buicks, and he loved Grandad.

We revised our itinerary so we could see the car the day before beginning our return to Illinois. We arrived at Jadon Isuzu in Beverly, Mass., Friday afternoon around 3 p.m. and examined the car in as much detail as one who has never bought an old car, and wasn’t mechanically inclined, could do. It wore shiny white paint, had a black top showing some wear but no rips or tears, had a white interior with factory bucket seats and was obviously well cared for. The odometer showed 88,000 miles. I was immediately hooked.

We left the dealer, went for coffee, talked a lot and decided to go for it, but it was going to be complicated. We somehow had to come up with $5,500, get the car plated and then drive it 1,200 miles, all within 48 hours. A cash advance on our credit card solved the money problem, but finding a bank that could do a cash advance, let alone one of this size, proved difficult. Finally, cash in hand, we returned to the dealer around 5:30 p.m. and by 6:15 p.m. were on our way back to the motel.

The plan we hatched included Peter flying back to Illinois the next day (Saturday) to take care of the paperwork and obtain the license plates, then flying back to Boston to return to the dealer before closing. This was complicated by the 2 p.m. closing time for the Illinois Secretary of State’s office. This scheme was only possible because Peter, who was a flight attendant for American Airlines, could fly standby at no cost, loads permitting. With light loads on the 11:30 a.m. flight to Chicago as well as the 2 p.m. return flight to Boston, I dropped Peter off at Logan International Airport in Boston at 10:30 a.m. At 5:30 p.m. I picked him up. We arrived at the dealer at 5:50 p.m., 10 minutes before closing.

We left the dealer around 6:15 p.m. Peter drove the Integra; I drove the Buick. About two miles from the dealer, I pulled off to the side of the road. There was a problem with the transmission. We went searching for a pay phone and about 10 minutes later, connected with our salesman who, thankfully, was still there. I explained the transmission wasn’t shifting through the gears. After a pregnant pause and some background chatter, our salesman explained the virtue of the Dynaflow transmission: there is no shift! I had no idea there was such a thing. In every other car I’d ever driven with an automatic, there was always a slight jerk as the transmission shifted though its gears. I was in the habit of listening and anticipating the change in gears, and this transmission didn’t do that. Satisfied with the explanation, but still a little apprehensive, we got back on the road. We stopped at a motel for the night where we experienced “PAOC” (public appreciation of old cars) for the first time. We left early Sunday morning and arrived back in Illinois about 10 hours later without so much as a hiccup. Once we finagled the car into the garage, we completely crashed. It had been a long, exciting weekend and we were glad to be home.

What we didn’t know then was that “Murta’s Tale” had only just begun. The next chapter began with a trip to “The Buick Whisperer,” a mechanic in Chicago who was regarded by several fellow Buick owners we’d met as a Buick expert. We had him do all the usual stuff you do when first acquiring a 28-year-old car: gas tank, fuel lines, brakes, cooling, etc. While in the shop I mentioned the one disappointment with the car: the lack of air conditioning. The whisperer’s reply was “no problem—I can make that happen.” He explained he’d recently purchased a ’62 LeSabre parts car and had everything needed to convert our car. We turned the car over to him in February 1991 and by March 1992, the dash had been partially disassembled and parts removed from the parts car, but that was all. After many, many phone calls and the engagement of a lawyer and a towing company, we showed up at his shop on a Saturday morning in February and extricated the car. The interior was stuffed with parts from our partially disassembled car. The car went to Custom Automotive Refinishing, a Milwaukee body shop, based on referrals from car club members. Chris Tesch, the owner, took pity on us and agreed to complete the work. After meeting with Chris and seeing the incredible body and paint work he did, we decided to change gears, scrapping the air conditioning plans in favor of a complete bare metal repaint. We decided to change from Arctic White to Cardinal Red (a ’62 Buick color) and changed the top from black to white. Our inexperience with old cars had unfortunately led us to buy a car with bondo along the bottom of all quarter panels, just behind the wheels, and in the rocker panels. It was the right decision.

While the car was in Milwaukee, a fellow club member, who had previously done good mechanical work for us on a different car, and who was willing to do the work in Milwaukee, convinced us to let him redo the top half of the engine. We left it in his (assumed) capable hands only to discover a year later the engine (top half removed) had been left exposed to the elements and needed a full rebuild as a result. We learned, to our surprise, the mechanic had up and moved, without notice, to Minneapolis, after having found love. He left all manner of unfinished business behind, including our disassembled, uncovered engine.

Chris relocated the business to Muskego, about 20 miles west of Milwaukee, and our car went with him. The engine rebuilding was to be done by a friend of Chris’s, “Scott #1,” so the engine went to his shop where it would stay for two years.

In May 1993 I bought a ’62 Imperial with the intention of driving it to our club’s Grand Invitational in New Hope, Pa., in July 1994. One thing led to another and we decided to change gears and have Chris do a full repaint on the Imperial, leaving the Buick on the back burner.

During the time the engine was at Scott #1’s shop, it was determined the scope of work needed to expand into a total rebuild. The engine work was ultimately completed only to discover afterward the transmission had lost reverse. Scott #1 arranged with a different shop to rebuild the transmission, a task that took over a year as it was done as time permitted. The car was returned to Chris sometime in late 1996. Unfortunately, it was determined there were still problems with the engine, and that some of the work Scott #1 did was faulty, but by that time he had moved away. A second mechanic, Scott #2, was located and the car went to him. At this time, for many reasons, our priorities changed, and the project was pushed even farther to the back burner.

I became a casualty of the recession in 2008 when my job at Bang & Olufsen was eliminated due to an across-the-board, 10-percent workforce reduction. For the next three years, I struggled to land a permanent job. The Buick went unattended during that period as I didn’t have the money to push the project forward. This was a difficult time and at some point, I frankly gave up on ever seeing the car again and mentally wrote it off.

In July of 2011, I received a call completely out of the blue from Chris, who nicely but firmly pushed me to make a decision about the car. He offered to buy it if I couldn’t support its completion. I anguished for several days over what to do, and ultimately decided to borrow against my IRA to have Chris finish it. Thankfully, two months later, I started a new job that would become permanent, and two months after that, I drove the car home. It was in the garage for the first time since February 1992—19 years later! The story didn’t end here, however.

From the moment I got the car back, and during the next five years, the car exhibited noise that sounded like bad lifters, and it overheated after even short distances, losing coolant with no apparent leaks. I drove the car very little as a result. The decision was made to replace the lifters and tappets. While somewhat diminished, the noise persisted and after further detective work, the noise was determined to be coming from the fuel pump. Upon removal, it was discovered a spacer had been installed upside down. A new fuel pump and spacer were properly installed, and the noise was gone! The overheating, however, was not. A friend, Mike Bishop, who was a GM exec and car club buddy, directed me to Castle Chevrolet in Elk Grove Village, Ill., and I credit them for solving the overheating problem. Another water pump and a new thermostat were installed. The radiator was re-cored. The five-blade fan was replaced with a six-blade version. A radiator shroud, which came as factory equipment only for factory air-conditioned cars, was sourced and installed. It still overheated. A decision to go to the next level was made and the heads and intake manifold were removed. Upon close examination, it was discovered the valve seals installed were too small for the valves, and as a result the extra friction caused a lot of extra heat, leading to overheating and coolant loss. New, correct valves and seals were installed, as well as hardened valve seats. Mechanic Scott #2 had not installed them, as he told me at the time they were not available. I’m happy to say that did the trick!

Now, a lot of money later, the car is running wonderfully, and it’s surprisingly quick! It doesn’t overheat, purrs like the wildcat it is (it does have the 401 Wildcat engine) and sounds like it just rolled off the showroom floor. It’s an absolute joy to drive. It was a long and expensive journey, but worth it in the end. And, oh, that Dynaflow!

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