LIVING THE NIGHTMARE

WHEN IMPORTING A VEHICLE GOES BAD

The advert read: “If you have a 1969 Mustang shell, what better way to build the ultimate pro-touring fastback than to give it a Boss 302 look with a big, honkin’ V8 under the hood? This handsome silver attack-craft is every bit as potent as you’d hope, with a Keith Craft 409ci V8, 6-speed gearbox, a road race-ready suspension, and a very tasteful black leather interior. “Full of tricks, this very impressive resto-mod is both fast and comfortable, the perfect blend of looks and technology. It lives up to the Boss 302 look, and will earn fans everywhere it goes. Call today!” Sounds awesome, right? With photos to back it up too, it’s easy to see why, after a bit of headscratching — and with permission from the wife — the buy-now button was hit. After all, the car was built by a professional shop too, so was no cheap-and-nasty DIY job. That was the dream, at least. With the deal done, and the car soon on a boat to Wellington, I prepared myself for compliance, assuming, wrongly, that I wouldn’t have too much of an issue. Then the fun began. The car arrived into Mainfreight’s Wellington premises — as luck would have, it the day before I was to leave for the US on holiday. For reasons I cannot fathom, one of the government agencies that is involved in inspecting inbound vehicles thought that the car looked too gangster, and proceeded to rip apart much of the bespoke boot innards, seeking methamphetamine, AK-47s, small nuclear devices, and a plethora of other non-existent material. Then either these people or some other helpful individuals tried to start the vehicle by circumventing the anti-theft devices fitted. This fried the main electrics between the battery and the alternator. And this was all before I’d even seen it in person. As I’d organized some local mechanics to pick up the car and drive it back to their shop, this turned into the first of many tow-truck trips that the car would take. At the shop, it sat occupying valuable space on a hoist, looking magnificent but far from being driveable. Now, New Zealand is a great place to import American cars into. If it is original and over 20 years old, the process is very simple, and the car just needs to undergo a basic compliance inspection. Sure, there are plenty of horror stories about cars arriving in far worse condition than what was promised, and the journey to get them roadworthy is one paved with lost souls and empty wallets, many experiencing rusty bodies costing thousands to remedy. I imported one older vehicle back in 2006 — a 1965 Mustang convertible — and the process was easy and cheap. At the time, I wanted to add seat belts to the back seat, as it was so original it

didn’t have any, just as when it was sold new. This meant that the vehicle would be modified, and would therefore require low-volume vehicle (LVV) certification, to ensure that the belts had been installed correctly. Importing a modern left-hand-drive vehicle was helped by the new special interest vehicle rules that came out around early 2011, which allowed vehicles that met certain criteria to be imported. Under these, I imported a 2011 Shelby, and the process was very simple and without any significant cost or headaches. For any modified vehicle though, new or old, LVV certification is required. The rules and requirements are very thorough and controlled via the LVVTA. Although not a government department, the LVVTA is contracted to administer modified-vehicle standards and the LVV certification system on behalf of the New Zealand Transport Agency (NZTA). Essentially, it’s a system that’s been created by vehicle enthusiasts and is run for them — all with the aim of roaduser safety. The US, on the other hand, is known for its litigious culture — there, the ability to sue is treated like the right to bear arms and is a national pastime like baseball and hotdogs. So it continues to amaze me that the level of car safety allowed on the roading network in the States is so poor — that it can be easily compared to what you might expect in Mogadishu or Baghdad. People seem to be able to do, quite simply, whatever they want. Brakes, suspension, tyres, steering, major structural elements of the body shell are all areas that can be ignored, and if you cause an accident because these or other basic car safety features are subpar, then you are responsible. Kind of like the ambulance at the bottom of the cliff — or, rather, an armada of ambulances at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Thankfully, the ’69 I bought had a good body, with no rust. Sure, it had the odd badly matched panel in terms of paint hue, but, basically, it was in good condition. The engine too was in good condition, as were the diff and gearbox. However, this is where the story takes a turn. After spending a few months at the mechanics waiting for auto electricians to visit and give it the once-over, it was decided that it was best to take it to an auto electrician instead, as the work required appeared extensive. The car was unceremoniously trucked (again) to Capital Auto Electrics. She spent months there being fixed when Mark Tilsley and his team had spare time. The first thing to remedy was the damaged starting and anti-theft systems. Next was sorting through the ‘Mexican spaghetti’, a term used by those in the know to describe some of the diabolical wiring in cars from the US of A. Having been shown this wiring at various points in the vehicle, you begin to understand the frustration of the auto electrician working on these messes. There are seemingly pointless joints and splices, along with a myriad of wiring that is in anything but a loom. Some of the wiring controlling the front lights looked like it was a patch on a bomb from a movie before it exploded. The stereo didn’t work, and the heap of ‘new’ electrics for interior lights, windows, poppers and the like caused the guys a great deal of pain.

THE JOURNEY TO GET THEM ROAD-WORTHY IS ONE PAVED WITH LOST SOULS AND EMPTY WALLETS

The guys also got in Alistair McLennan, from Macbilt Engineering, who specializes in vehicle fabrication, predominantly on competition vehicles but also on classics. Al pointed out some of the fun and games underneath — much of this was obvious and scary. An example he drew our attention to was the fuel line from the tank, which followed the exhaust system up to the engine — not a good thing when the exhaust heats up. Additionally, the same exhaust pipes ended at the rear axle — highly illegal in New Zealand and not particularly pleasant if you want to breathe and drive at the same time. Once the auto electrics were sorted, the now-dusty ’69 was once again placed on a truck and sent to Macbilt. She stayed here for a long time and was on the receiving end of over 200 hours of repairs. The work involved was significant, although I added some changes for my own needs too — such as replacing the clutch with a lighter unit. When the car had arrived, I’d sat in the driver’s seat and depressed the clutch. I’d figured that, even with all my regular gym workouts, I’d have 10 or 11 gear changes in me before my leg would give out — even Arnie would have struggled. Other changes included extending the exhaust pipes through the rear valance with stainless panels on exit. I also had the gear shift extended towards the driver for a more ergonomic feel. I wanted a lower look at the front of the car to exaggerate the haunches on the vehicle, so Macbilt lowered it and added a chin spoiler. Missing chrome in the front was sourced and installed for a complete look, and Macbilt set about making the car compliant. By now, I was well aware that it was a ‘Mexican special’, but there were still more surprises to come. The rectifications included stripping the interior to strengthen and weld up the drive-shaft tunnel where the cross member had been previously removed and adding a new one. The weldedup steering box was replaced with a compliant one, the previous one having welds to a cast component — not exactly ideal engineering

practice. They removed and modified the headers to provide appropriate clearance to just about everything — heat-sensitive steering components included. They also re-piped the fuel line so that it didn’t trace the exhaust route, helping me avoid incineration. New battery cables were installed, the old ones having previously been cable-tied under the car. The battery cables and starter wire near the headers were then sleeved to avoid more heat transference. All the bolts in the steering and brakes were short and did not have enough excess thread after the nut to meet regulations — two threads past the nyloc. These were all replaced, as was the sway bar, which was also an issue. Due to the car having door poppers instead of interior and exterior handles, the certifier required catch releases internally on each door, so that if the car suffered an accident and the battery was dislodged, the people inside the car could activate the catches and get out. Surprisingly, given the poor engineering discovered on the car to this point, the car did have these catches, but they were under the dash and did not meet the requirements of being easily reached. Macbilt made up new catches hidden under the bespoke door handles to sort this. The car had no seat belts — none, nada, zip. Scary given the other safety issues. So Macbilt added four of these too. The handbrake cable was obviously not something that the Texan modifiers had thought important — perhaps there are no hills in Texas? At least they had graciously tied it to part of the rear suspension, so it didn’t drag on the ground. This, of course, was rectified, along with new brake pipes and hoses. The fancy-looking billet steering column was a cheap Chinese knock-off and, of course, didn’t meet any safety standards consistent with keeping your guts inside your body should you hit the steering wheel with your torso. This too was replaced with a nice new one that wouldn’t snap and become a jousting stick in a head-on, and, better still, has proven-quality internals, so won’t fail on me unexpectedly mid turn. To install this, the dash was removed and more Mexican spaghetti was dispensed with, along with some holes in the firewall filled — to be honest, the firewall had really dispensed with the word ‘fire’ and was just barely a wall. Prior to this, when running, the interior would fill with engine smell — not so much exhaust, but the wafting bouquet of Shell Helix. The tappet-cover seals were replaced, and the smell improved dramatically. In the same vein, the fuel pump was leaking and needed a new mount — true American show car quality. The rear bump stops were non-existent, so new ones were sourced and installed by the chaps too. Finally, the car could now pass LVV certification — on the premise, of course, that a full compliance inspection took place to take care of the non-LVV items (essentially a more in-depth WOF check). For this, I used VINZ. A few inspections were made, and a number of small items needed changes before the car passed. This even included fitting

BY NOW, I WAS WELL AWARE THAT IT WAS A ‘MEXICAN SPECIAL’

window wipers, as, for some reason, when the car had arrived it had none. Not a major issue but still a necessity. Similarly, there were no sun visors, so these were also added (clearly, it’s never rainy, or sunny, in Texas). Finally, it was found compliant and legal, although that didn’t mean we’d removed all of the Americanisms quite yet. Not a compliance issue but instead a functionality one, the hole that the dipstick normally sits in had been covered over by the power-steering unit. This was modified and a dipstick added. Previously, Capital Auto Electrics had identified that there was almost no oil in the engine, which further reduced my confidence in anything auto related out of Texas. Eighteen months after it landed, we ran the car up on the dyno, and it again left me underwhelmed. This was 409ci of the US’s finest disappointment. The team at Macbilt removed the inlet manifold and replaced it with an air-gap version more suited to the rest of the engine combination, replacing the air filter at the same time. Just like that, and with a bit of a tune-up of the 750cfm Holley carb, the output increased by 90hp! Finally, we had a car to be proud of. There are still a few things to do and improve on the car, such as tucking the bumpers closer to the body, but, by and large, she is complete and awesome now. Would I do it again? Sure would. Would I do it differently? Many of the things wrong with the build I would have picked up as a layman if inspecting it in the US; however, many of the items I’m not qualified for, and wouldn’t have noticed. Neither do I know the certification rules well enough, nor do I have enough mechanical knowledge to identify these. Similarly, I wouldn’t know, with any degree of accuracy, how long it would take to remedy these and what additional costs in parts and re-engineering they would incur. Could I have used someone local? An American mechanic would have done a much better job than me in identifying issues and estimating costs, but only assuming they were a good mechanic, and they still wouldn’t know the New Zealand LVV requirements. Given the US’s freedom from vehicle rules, they would likely miss many of the safety issues. Neither I nor a mechanic would, of course, have picked up on some of the more hidden issues that only appeared when taking things apart. So, is there a local resource that could have helped? Yes, there are a number of New Zealanders based in the US who can, for a fee, find vehicles for customers back in New Zealand. However, often inspections are more about rust or body issues than they are about mechanical ones. For the moment, all I can say is, if you’re interested in importing a modified vehicle into New Zealand, my advice is to read up on the all the rules, understand as many as you can, and then get a trusted inspector to assist in going over a vehicle carefully. Only then can you begin to minimise your risk and quantify the potential costs that you will incur once the vehicle gets back to Godzone. Good luck — you’ll need it.