by Sal Perlman
Includes two photos:
one of the restored Model A truck, and one of its completely restored engine.
From the Editor: This article appeared in the Braille Monitor, July 2003 edition, published by the National Federation of the Blind.
From the Monitor Editor: The following article first appeared in the April 2003 issue of Car and Driver magazine. Joe Naulty was president of the Deaf-Blind Division for a number of years. He is a dedicated restorer of old cars. We reprint this article about Joe and his hobby with permission:Restoring a car is tough. Imagine doing it blind. Imagine having to work on your car blindfolded--not just changing the oil or upgrading the exhaust system, but restoring it completely. No peeking allowed.
That's what Joseph Naulty, who lost his sight in 1996, was up against in his quest to rebuild a 1928 Model A Ford pickup.
"For me, restoring old cars is what keeps me motivated," says the 68-year-old retired businessman, who lives in Wellington, Florida. "I could sit here and whine all day about my condition, but that won't help me. I have a life to live, and these cars keep me going."
Naulty's passion for automobiles is even more fascinating considering he has never actually driven one. Following an accident in 1948 near his hometown of Elizabeth, New Jersey, at the age of 14, he was diagnosed with so-called tunnel-vision syndrome.
By the age of 18 he was already legally blind, although he still retained about 25 percent of his field of vision. As a result he could never obtain a driver's license. For nearly 45 years his wife Arlene has been the family driver.
After attending a technical school, he worked for several years as a draftsman
and then started JBN, an electrical parts manufacturing company in New Jersey.
He got married and had three sons. During his 22 years as the company's owner,
Naulty used to take a taxi on Saturdays to the junkyard and return in a wrecker
with an old car towed behind, which he would then fix. He bought, restored, and
sold nearly 100 American and
British cars this way.
As time moved on, though, his peripheral field of vision narrowed gradually
until finally he lost his sight completely in '98. But that hasn't deterred
him. The
1928 pickup--the fourth car he has restored since turning blind--sits in
the center of Naulty's narrow one-car garage. In working on it, Naulty utilizes
his senses of touch, hearing, and
smell to make up for vision.
He locates the truck by brushing his hand against the front bumper, then passes
his fingers over the hood, inspecting the gray primer coat he applied the day
before. "I prime by feeling the edges, masking around them, then going back
and forth and up and down with the primer. I let it dry and then feel it to
check
for missed spots. If you understand the mechanics of paint layers and how they
work, it's easier to do. You see the
paint; I feel it."
Along the garage wall a metal shelving unit holds what appears to be a jumbled
collection of boxes of all shapes and sizes. One realizes there's a method
to this apparent madness when Naulty feels around for a particular box and
fishes
out a rear signal light. "Once the bed comes back from the shop, I'm going to
install new signal lights." He feels his way back, finds the mount, and holds
the light against it to demonstrate
the look.
He bends down and gropes for something under the chassis, then finds it--a
white electrical wire attached to the frame, its end hanging off. "This will
be the signal's juice line. I rewired all the truck's electrical myself, which
was difficult but fun. I know the A's system like the back of my hand. The
only thing is, whenever I'm ready to hook up something, I call my son and ask
to borrow
his eyeballs and tell me which wire is neutral. But I do all the rest." His
son William, 40, also resides in
Wellington.
Unlike some of us, Naulty can't afford the luxury (or bad habit?) of leaving
tools around. "I keep all my tools and parts organized," he says, pointing to
his workbench and the two sets of red toolbox drawers under it, and then pulls
one of the drawers open. "Here are all my wrenches and Allens. I have to put
things back where they belong if I want to
find them later."
Buddy Pearce, Naulty's restoration cohort and engine consultant, says whenever
they attend an auto show, Joe is always asking owners of unique vehicles if
he could check out their cars. "He feels and touches every inch of the car.
And when he's done, he's usually quite greasy but knows more about the vehicle
than
the owner."
Naulty completed the truck in time to participate in the local Christmas parade
last December, and he already has an idea for his next project: a Model A woody
station wagon. "Restoring old cars is in my blood and in my system. I can't
help it. I will do it 'till the day I
die."