Paul Wilson has been constructing an interesting Alfa Romeo 6C2500 based car that will fulfill his long-standing desire to have an 8C2900. He's made a good start! By his request, I am starting a new thread. Here are two photos that he shared on another thread, as well as his initial description of how it as arrived at the stage it is in.
Hi John,
Thanks for your interest in my project. Here’s a brief summary.
Long, long ago, in 1975 or thereabouts, I like anyone with good taste and judgment in cars lusted after an Alfa 2.9. But their values never dipped below that of a decent house. Not so the 6C2500, which was then, literally, a junkyard car. So, I thought, if I can’t buy a 2.9, I can make one, or something close, based on the 6C2500. Optimistically dreaming that someday I’d have the skills, time, and money for such a project, I bought three parts cars, for a total of $1000. Two I stripped of parts, one I dragged home. The latter was a homely Ghia cabriolet that had been sitting outside with no top for many years. I removed most of the interior with a shovel; the stripped shell was scrapped. That’s the chassis my project is based on. Wisely, I got duplicates of most of the important mechanical components, but now I’m discovering a few that I missed.
About ten years ago I started building the body, and in about a year I’d completed the rear half, the teardrop coupe shape that was what most of my early dreaming focused on. With rudimentary metalworking skills, I made what I wanted by cutting and splicing body panels from cars found in junkyards–the origins will be identifiable by some of you with sharp eyes. However, the front end was a problem. The 6C engine and radiator are more than a foot ahead of the 2.9's, so 2.9 proportions are irrelevant. A lot of contemporary solutions to this heavy frontal mass are, to me, unsatisfactory. What I needed was a design that enclosed the components, was appropriate to 1947 (when the chassis was made), was instantly identifiable as an Alfa and not anachronistic, and was beautiful. Finding this solution took me another decade or so.
When I started on the front end my metalworking skills had progressed to the point where I could form what I wanted from sheet steel or aluminum, making things much easier. It’s also a huge advantage to be both the designer and fabricator, because so many design factors are interdependent. For example, I made the center grille first, then spent most of a week on the size and shape of the side openings. Then I went through half a dozen variations on the headlights–straight, sloped, higher, lower, wider, closer together. Only when a mockup is tacked in place you can see what’s what, from every angle. None of the decisions I made during the process could have been done at the outset.
I was assisted by friends who sent me comments on progress photos, often sent daily. All these friends are, like me, saturated with images of relevant cars they’ve seen in person or in pictures--Alfas, Talbot-Lagos, Delages, Delahayes, Bugattis. We’d have discussions of a detail that looked “too French,” or another that was “not like an Alfa.” Final decisions are mine, of course, but their input has been very helpful. My longtime friend Peter Marshall is one of this group. Many of you Alfisti will know him.
A couple of months ago the body was essentially done (12/11). The pictures I sent earlier were taken when it left for the bodyshop where the final metalwork is being tidied up and it’s being prepared for paint. When it’s in primer the body will be taken off the frame and set aside, and I’ll bring home the chassis for restoration. I’m now working on the engine, carbs, wheels, all the mechanical stuff. (Note: all advice is welcome on how to optimize all of this, problems to avoid, sources for parts, etc.) When the chassis is done, the body will be put back on, painted, and I’ll move into the final stages.
As you’ll have learned from this story, this car is a lifetime dream car for me. It’s taken a lifetime to build, and it’s got to have it all, because I won’t have another chance (I’m 67). I want it to be an aesthetic masterpiece, be beautifully finished, be a pleasure to drive, be comfortable. On the latter, I think an ideal driving position, and good seat, are critical. A friend once let me drive his 2.9, and the necessary contortions were torture. They made good seats in 1947; mine will look like them. I’m only six feet, but the car should make anyone feel just right. They also had great ventilation in 1947, with effective cowl vents. My car has one too.
A good 6C2500 can also be a delight on the road. One of my advisors allowed me to drive his 6C2500SS, which was a revelation: supple, controlled ride, that reminded me of an E-Type; fabulous brakes, as good as a modern all-disc setup; wonderful steering; much better power than you’d expect from the spec sheet. I think there’s some easy extra power available (gas in 1947, in Italy, was pretty bad stuff). But if it has hefty torque, that’s what it needs to feel good on the road.
So that’s what the project is. All advice and comments are welcome. I’m a newbie on discussion threads like this, and want to hear what you’ve got to say.
Paul Wilson
Hi John,
Thanks for your interest in my project. Here’s a brief summary.
Long, long ago, in 1975 or thereabouts, I like anyone with good taste and judgment in cars lusted after an Alfa 2.9. But their values never dipped below that of a decent house. Not so the 6C2500, which was then, literally, a junkyard car. So, I thought, if I can’t buy a 2.9, I can make one, or something close, based on the 6C2500. Optimistically dreaming that someday I’d have the skills, time, and money for such a project, I bought three parts cars, for a total of $1000. Two I stripped of parts, one I dragged home. The latter was a homely Ghia cabriolet that had been sitting outside with no top for many years. I removed most of the interior with a shovel; the stripped shell was scrapped. That’s the chassis my project is based on. Wisely, I got duplicates of most of the important mechanical components, but now I’m discovering a few that I missed.
About ten years ago I started building the body, and in about a year I’d completed the rear half, the teardrop coupe shape that was what most of my early dreaming focused on. With rudimentary metalworking skills, I made what I wanted by cutting and splicing body panels from cars found in junkyards–the origins will be identifiable by some of you with sharp eyes. However, the front end was a problem. The 6C engine and radiator are more than a foot ahead of the 2.9's, so 2.9 proportions are irrelevant. A lot of contemporary solutions to this heavy frontal mass are, to me, unsatisfactory. What I needed was a design that enclosed the components, was appropriate to 1947 (when the chassis was made), was instantly identifiable as an Alfa and not anachronistic, and was beautiful. Finding this solution took me another decade or so.
When I started on the front end my metalworking skills had progressed to the point where I could form what I wanted from sheet steel or aluminum, making things much easier. It’s also a huge advantage to be both the designer and fabricator, because so many design factors are interdependent. For example, I made the center grille first, then spent most of a week on the size and shape of the side openings. Then I went through half a dozen variations on the headlights–straight, sloped, higher, lower, wider, closer together. Only when a mockup is tacked in place you can see what’s what, from every angle. None of the decisions I made during the process could have been done at the outset.
I was assisted by friends who sent me comments on progress photos, often sent daily. All these friends are, like me, saturated with images of relevant cars they’ve seen in person or in pictures--Alfas, Talbot-Lagos, Delages, Delahayes, Bugattis. We’d have discussions of a detail that looked “too French,” or another that was “not like an Alfa.” Final decisions are mine, of course, but their input has been very helpful. My longtime friend Peter Marshall is one of this group. Many of you Alfisti will know him.
A couple of months ago the body was essentially done (12/11). The pictures I sent earlier were taken when it left for the bodyshop where the final metalwork is being tidied up and it’s being prepared for paint. When it’s in primer the body will be taken off the frame and set aside, and I’ll bring home the chassis for restoration. I’m now working on the engine, carbs, wheels, all the mechanical stuff. (Note: all advice is welcome on how to optimize all of this, problems to avoid, sources for parts, etc.) When the chassis is done, the body will be put back on, painted, and I’ll move into the final stages.
As you’ll have learned from this story, this car is a lifetime dream car for me. It’s taken a lifetime to build, and it’s got to have it all, because I won’t have another chance (I’m 67). I want it to be an aesthetic masterpiece, be beautifully finished, be a pleasure to drive, be comfortable. On the latter, I think an ideal driving position, and good seat, are critical. A friend once let me drive his 2.9, and the necessary contortions were torture. They made good seats in 1947; mine will look like them. I’m only six feet, but the car should make anyone feel just right. They also had great ventilation in 1947, with effective cowl vents. My car has one too.
A good 6C2500 can also be a delight on the road. One of my advisors allowed me to drive his 6C2500SS, which was a revelation: supple, controlled ride, that reminded me of an E-Type; fabulous brakes, as good as a modern all-disc setup; wonderful steering; much better power than you’d expect from the spec sheet. I think there’s some easy extra power available (gas in 1947, in Italy, was pretty bad stuff). But if it has hefty torque, that’s what it needs to feel good on the road.
So that’s what the project is. All advice and comments are welcome. I’m a newbie on discussion threads like this, and want to hear what you’ve got to say.
Paul Wilson
