Rick and I like to say that we specialize in finding cars that no one’s looking for. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why—there are so many cars with great stories out there that need saving, preserving, sharing, and celebrating that we need as many of us to save them as we can get. We can’t do it alone.
Enter Tom Chandler, of Elkader, Iowa.
I’ve known Tom and his wife, Barb, for many years. We first met because of a mutual interest in rare and unusual cars. Tom and Barb own a beautifully restored 1952 Glasspar G2. The G2 is known as America’s first fiberglass-bodied sports car—a car that debuted at the 1951 Petersen Motorama in Los Angeles, California. Tom called me several years ago about a car he had seen in the woods near the interstate for many years.
Tom thought it looked like a ’53 Grantham Stardust—another low-production, hand-built car—but he couldn’t get close enough to the car to confirm. What he did see, however, was rust. Since the Stardust was one of my fiberglass favorites, it couldn’t be the same car, which even intrigued me more. As far as I know, fiberglass doesn’t rust.
We’re always researching many cars at once, and it took about six months before Tom was able to visit the closest farm where the car was seen. “Yes,” they said, it was their car, but it was sold to another person in Iowa who had plans to restore it. Jerry Smith was the person whom Tom had met, and it was his father who had built the car, back in the late ’50s.
Cinnamon Girl sat on an Iowa farm field for many years. Only because it was visible from the road was it discovered. Makes you wonder how many cars are hiding that are not visible. GEOFF HACKER
Sometimes I’m pleased to know that a car I was interested in has been rescued by someone else. I liked the styling of this car—swoopy fenders, low stance, hand-built with steel—very cool. So I smiled to myself that the car was not lost but “found” by another enthusiast, and I looked forward to seeing the car (hopefully sometime in the near future) restored and being appreciated for its history, design, and heritage.
About a year later, I got an email from good friend Nick Whitlow. “Geoff…did you see the car on the H.A.M.B. for sale,” he wrote.
Of course, it was the car from Iowa, now for sale and at a very reasonable price.
Geoff Hacker proudly stands next to what he calls his Cinnamon Girl, or the Smith Six, which was built from steel by Duane Smith in 1959. GEOFF HACKER
I beat feet and contacted the owner. I spent more money shipping the car back to Tampa than I had paid for the car itself. The body, though rusty, turned out to be mostly surface rust. The frame was another matter, but we’re in the process of securing another Henry J frame to put underneath it and make it right as rain again.
When Duane Smith finished his car in 1959, it was the culmination of three years of work. Rightly so, he named his car the “Smith Six,” wherein “Six” designated the number of cylinders. I have come to affectionately call it “Cinnamon Girl” due to its rust hue having been seasoned in the elements for nearly 40 years and for my appreciation of Neil Young and his song by the same name.
