Honolulu Weekly

On the most basic level, it’s the promise of independence–the realization that with some gas in the tank and the twist of a wrist you can go anywhere you please–that first lures us in. It’s in that spirit that we eventually see our cars as extensions of ourselves (and why some of us need ones that go really fast, or cost a lot of money, or look like tanks rolling down the street). Plenty of people will tell you that car culture is essentially synonymous with American culture, that the American dream has four wheels and an engine. Honolulu, teeming with dreamers and drivers, is also crawling with incredible cars–we found three local boys who have long been driven by their passion for the classics.

The dream machine

Drive too fast in Kenneth Soares’ 1927 Model T Roadster and it will fly. At least he thinks it will, and that’s what keeps him from trying. The car’s sole purpose, Soares explains, is to be beautiful. And it is. From the slender rectangle of its body to the regal swoop of its frame and the way its wide, disc-like headlights perch on the hood. The roadster is a work of art–one Soares has devoted himself to for nearly a decade.

Soares’ efforts have culminated in a vehicle with custom exhaust, stainless-steel polish, a new gas fuse, upgraded suspension and front wheels, bigger brake pads, all new gears, a brand new interior and a custom fiberglass roof, among many other improvements. The car is extraordinarily light–it weighs just over a ton–but has the engine of a 1979 corvette.

“I never did race with it,” said Soares. “I didn’t build this car for burn rubber. Sometimes I run through the gears and by the time I shift out into high gear, I can be doing 90 miles and it’s not even getting going yet. The car is so light that if I opened it up all the way, it would drift. I would be floating.”

Soares remembers the days when hitting 90 miles-per-hour meant he was just getting going. As a teenager in the early 1960s, he regularly ran with a crew of drag racers who flew up and down Kalanianaole Highway past Sandy Beach. For decades, Sandy’s was the hub for late-night speed demons. Looking back, Soares shudders at how dangerous their behavior was.

“Back then, we called it outlaw racing,” said Soares. “Like you go down Sandy Beach and you race a good quarter-mile. I lost a lot of friends who didn’t make it. It caused a lot of accidents and people’s lives.”

But Soares’ racing days were a phase that came long after he fell in love with cars. It wasn’t the speed (or even the beauty) that first drew him into local car culture; it was the community around him.

“When I was growing up, my neighbors were all hot-rodders,” he remembers. “I was just a young kid and I used to watch them working on their cars and they said, ‘You like learn to be a mechanic?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, why not?’ So they taught me all the tools and parts and from there I got interested in cars. I’ve had a lot of beautiful cars over the years.”

But one of those cars that Soares remembers most fondly is also the source of some lingering heartbreak. It was a Volkswagen that he decided to part with for an unusually low price after seeing how much the buyer loved it.

“You shoulda seen that car,” Soares sighs. “I sold it so cheap to a haole gentleman and then I see this other guy driving it around and I think, ‘What the hell?’ Then! Then I see it down in the Waianae body shop all in pieces. I will never sell my cars again. The only way I could sell it would be to someone who would take it away from Hawaii.”

And while Soares considers almost all of his work to be too precious to part with, the 1927 roadster–a rarity even for Model T collectors–is in a class of its own.

“I always wanted one roadster,” Soares said. “I just couldn’t afford it back then. Plenty guys ask me the question: why a ’27 roadster? Everybody owns a ’32 roadster. Everybody owns a ’30. Bunch of guys own a ’29. But how many own a ’27? I see a lot of guys with ’30s, ’28, ’29, ’30, but I never see a ’27. It is a dream car for me and I’m very particular about it. I am so particular it’s not funny. Car cannot have oil leaks, cannot have nothing. Got to be super clean. And if you cannot find me, find the car. I am always close to that car.”

The body builder

The Model T may represent the moment at which America fell in love with the automobile, but the most quintessentially American vehicles have to be muscle cars. They’re also arguably the most popular cars among Oahu gearheads.

Muscle cars turn heads with their overt, almost aggressive, sensuality: it’s difficult to ignore the jutting stretch of their hoods or the shock of their bright paintjobs. But what makes a muscle car a muscle car–its power–is really what made them explode in popularity in the mid-20th century. It’s an automotive trend that was still taking off when Dean Pang was born. Now in his forties, Pang–who recently founded the 808 Camaros Club–is an active member in the large community of muscle car enthusiasts on Oahu.

And at a time when the Camaro is enjoying a massive resurgence in popularity (the New York Times called June sales for the 2010 model the beginning of a “product renaissance”), 808 Camaros membership, which already exceeds 100 people, is likely to grow. But Pang, whose first car was a 1969 Camaro, has loved the model since its first generation (the 2010 model is considered fifth generation).

“I’m into any type of muscle cars, basically, but I do favor Camaros,” said Pang. “I’m a Chevy person. I have a ’69 Camaro that I just finished building and also a ’55 Chevy pick-up, both are silver.”

Pang’s approach to building cars varies between doing original restorations and what’s known as pro-touring. The former involves meticulously following factory blueprints and exclusively using parts that would have been used in the vehicle’s initial manufacture, while pro-touring allows for some contemporary interpretation.

“So with pro-touring, it’s a combination of classic components and modern components,” said Pang. “Instead of the old standard gauges, you can have new digital gauges. Some of the older cars didn’t have air conditioning, but you can retrofit them to have it. So you have some of the modern comforts while still enjoying the classic ride.”

Because of the difficulty of finding some parts–and the exorbitant cost of shipping them to the Islands–original restorations tend to be far more expensive than pro-touring, which still requires a significant investment.

“It’s not a cheap hobby,” said Pang. “It takes time and money. But the beauty of it is that you can do a little at a time. And you constantly upgrade anyway. I’ve never had a point where I was content. I always have to do a little here or a little there, add a chrome piece here and there. It constantly evolves and you’re never fully finished–that’s what a hobby is.”

Wheels
within wheels

While the technical process for a car collector is ever-changing, the greater trends in car culture are almost predictably cyclical. Like Pang, Clayton Fukuda is enthralled by muscle cars, which he says serve as a litmus to the public’s automotive tastes and preferences over time. It also may explain the spike in new Camaro sales back in June.

“You look at the trends now, and a lot of the new cars are being built in the old body style,” he said. “The Camaro that just came out, the Mustangs–they look similar to what the old style was and they’re selling great. The Camaro is coming back because they made it look like a ’69 Camaro and the Mustang now looks more like the Mustangs from the ’60s. The 2008 is dressed up like the ’68. Look at the outside lines of the 2009 and you see the ’69. It’s the same as fashion coming back. How dresses come back, cars come back.”

And if the car-buying public is anything like Fukuda, the resurgence in classic styles’ popularity can be traced also to muscle cars’ appealing simplicity; not simplicity in the sense of sparseness–Fukuda’s jet-black Mustang is anything but plain–but as a reflection of the time when these cars were new.

“Everybody wants to go back to old times, when you were younger and life was simpler,” said Fukuda. “And I just love muscle cars. I love the shape, the design of the vehicles, how the engine is completely different than the newer cars where you have all the emission controls and so forth. Today’s cars? You have to have a computer.”

Fukuda’s desire to preserve the technological simplicity of another era is part of why he opted to take on a fully original restoration project for his 1967 Mustang, which he built to be a Shelby GP500 clone.

“I purchased the blueprints to how they made the GP500 at that time,” he said. “I bought all the parts to turn it into a GP500. It’s black in color, black interior, black outside, the engine size is a 351 Windsor.”

Fukuda’s matter-of-fact description doesn’t do his car justice–the dark, sleek Mustang is absolutely gorgeous–but there’s no question that he’s passionate about his hobby. Fukuda is most talkative, though, when describing those who share his passion, and the way they come together for cruise nights and car shows to share (and show off) the results of individual hard work.

“It’s a lot of locals but also a real mix of people,” said Fukuda. “Every time you get together, it’s really a gathering where everyone can share what they did to their cars–but people can also just share their thoughts about the society. So far, with all the car people I meet, they’re all very cooperative. They’re all understanding. It’s like a fellowship, you know? I just find car collectors to be enjoyable to be around.”

Classic Muscle Cars