Restoring Those Old Classics – They Just Don’t Make ‘Em Like They Used To

“They sure don’t make things like they used to!” Every kid, everywhere, has heard a parent or grandparent utter this lament, and usually accompanied by a disgruntled shake of the head. I heard some version of this exclamation many times during my formative years.

And so, it was with a fond and a wistful recollection that I drove a few blissful miles last Saturday morning, in a neighbor’s beautifully restored 1951 Chevrolet pickup truck.

I couldn’t help thinking of Dad while sitting happily behind the wheel of this old classic; mainly because I’d heard him repeat that very sentence countless times growing up, but also because he happened to own a nearly identical (1953) model of this same Chevy truck, which he drove for many years, and in which I logged many a mile (sometimes even behind the wheel).

And so, for 20 glorious minutes on a sunny Saturday morning, that old ’51 Chevy became a veritable time-machine, transporting me back through the years, as warm but distant memories came flooding into my consciousness.

Climbing out of the cab, I brushed a tear from my cheek before handing the keys back to the proud owner and snapping a picture of that beautiful old truck to hopefully preserve both the moment and the memories.

It was the same when I found that dusty old anniversary clock in my parent’s basement. I hadn’t realized what a treasure I’d discovered until Mom told me the sweet story of how Dad had saved his money while stationed at a U.S. Army base in Germany, to buy and send her that very clock as a Christmas present.

At some point, over the years, it had stopped working and been relegated to a downstairs bedroom where it sat motionless, gathering dust, until it was eventually forgotten altogether.

The backstory of this old clock was so tender and touching that I just couldn’t leave it alone…

I carefully cleaned and wound it, and tried gently to coax the rotary pendulum into its metronomic movement, but couldn’t manage to keep it going. So, after finding a clock expert, who spent a few weeks tinkering on it, the old anniversary clock, which a young soldier had scrimped and saved to buy for his fiancé all those years ago, was finally working again.

And what did this white-haired clockmaker say to me on the day I entered his shop to pick it up? Yep; it was a version of that same familiar refrain: “They sure don’t make ‘em like this anymore!”

I carefully wrapped this beautiful family heirloom and presented it to Mom and Dad for Christmas that year.

That resurrected clock sits proudly on Mom’s piano to this day, faithfully ticking away the hours, while simultaneously conjuring important memories of our family’s past.

Preservation takes time, skill, effort and resources; but most old things are worth it.

Right here in Sanpete, we are fortunate to still have so much of our valley’s history preserved, thanks to those who’ve cared enough, and are skilled enough, to have lovingly restored it—providing us all with daily reminders of our notable heritage, and of those important and eventful days of yore.

I live in a fitting example of such painstaking restoration: a house built in 1875 by a Danish Pioneer immigrant, who sold everything he owned in his native Denmark, and risked his life, and the lives of his family, to come to America, making his way across The Great Plains to Salt Lake City, and eventually to Spring City (known as ‘Little Denmark’ in those days), and constructed a home for his family from the same limestone blocks being quarried 17 miles south of here for the Manti Temple.

I’m grateful to all those who’ve had a hand in the faithful restoration of this sweet old house; it’s become a poignant daily reminder of my own Danish pioneer heritage, and of a great-great grandpa, who had the courage to venture forth from Aalborg, Denmark, to seek a new life for himself and his family in this so-called “New World.”

Such pioneer history remains all around us here in Sanpete, and we can thank those dedicated souls in our midst, who have kept it alive for the rest of us, through their patient, skillful, and loving restorations.

Because, in the end, Dad was right…

“They just don’t make ’em like they used to!”