A silly issue kept my IH Scout out of commission for 20 months, but my father-in-law resolved it in just 20 minutes.

      Andrew P. Collins

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      During my time in Los Angeles, I kept my collection of old cars running out of necessity. If a car was left idle for over a week, parking fines would accumulate quickly. However, after relocating to the rural areas of New York a few years ago, I descended into the depths of being a collector who holds onto projects with the mindset of “I’ll restore it someday.” That’s no longer the case—my redemption journey begins this summer.

      Here’s a quick overview of the vehicles I currently own, listed from newest to oldest:

      2017 BMW 330 Wagon: My wife’s vehicle. It has no modifications aside from Pilot Sport tires, and I plan to keep it that way indefinitely.

      2006 Honda Civic Si: My tuning and racing project. I plan to sell it soon to concentrate on the other vehicles.

      2003 BMW 330ci: My weekend fun car. It could use some attention but is still driveable. I’m keeping it indefinitely.

      2002 Polaris Ranger: A vehicle for the ranch that requires minor maintenance. I might consider trading it for a zero-turn lawn mower if anyone is interested.

      1998 Mitsubishi Montero: An adventure vehicle. It needs a starter that I haven’t gotten around to replacing. Its long-term future is still uncertain.

      1996 BMW 328is: An older but functional E36 coupe that belongs to my sister-in-law. It’s likely to be sold soon.

      1991 Suzuki GSXR750: Previously operational, it’s now a non-running indoor decoration (not worth the effort to return to the road).

      1975 International Scout: It’s been sitting in my driveway for over a year but is now revived and ready for a new chapter.

      1974 Irwin Sailboat: Co-owned with another sister-in-law… a long story.

      If you see this list and think, “Wow, that’s too much,” I agree.

      Don’t worry; they usually aren’t on the grass. They had to be moved temporarily to clear a path for construction vehicles for a patio project.

      To soften the blow of relocating from sunny Southern California to the rainy Hudson Valley, my wife encouraged me to collect as many old junkers as I wanted on our property. So, I did, and now I’m ready to admit it was a mistake. If you also dream of hoarding cheap cars, let me share where I misstepped.

      I have an unfortunate mix of project ADD, hyperfixation, mediocre mechanical skills, and the classic excuse of too many commitments and not enough time. With each new vehicle project, it’s not just about minor adjustments; I feel compelled to gather memorabilia, period-appropriate advertisements, apparel, modifications, and so on. Then, when it’s time for something simple like changing an air filter, I end up removing the entire airbox, cleaning it, and then think, “Well, now that it’s out, I should clean that part of the engine bay nobody sees.” While I’m cleaning, I notice a random bracket could use a fresh coat of paint, which leads to needing new hardware for that bracket… and repeat this for eight vehicles. Plus, I have a full-time job, countless house repairs, and a dog I’d prefer to play with rather than tackle any of this.

      Soon enough, my garage becomes cluttered, my car is unusable, and I find myself in a mess of my own making.

      I can’t continue like this. I refuse!

      This year, I intend to regain control of my projects. While that may sound like an empty New Year’s Resolution, I’ve actually made significant progress so far. The deck my wife and I have been working on for a year is nearly finished. The pantry remodel we’ve discussed will be completed this weekend. I’ve also sold three sets of wheels from my vast collection of unused auto parts.

      Most excitingly, my old Scout is back in action.

      To explain its neglect, I need to provide some context; hang tight. The previous owner installed the strangest aftermarket start-switch configuration I’ve ever encountered. To start the truck, you must flip a three-position toggle from the middle to the bottom, then crank it with a mailbox key inserted in the dashboard. It’s linked to a confusing jumble of wires that change color along their length. I know it’s bizarre, but it has always functioned, and honestly, I’ve been too intimidated to tamper with it since rewiring the entire truck is likely the real fix needed.

      It looks particularly sorry now because my driveway is filled with rocks and construction machinery for the new patio.

      Last summer, when I tried to start it with a charged battery, there was no response—no cranking, no clicking. Upon peering under the dash, my worst fears were confirmed: some of those frightening wires were