Custom shop has one rule: no rules

BILL TAYLOR FOR THE TORONTO STAR

The 1953 Oldsmobile that shop owner Stony Smith sits on is in for radical surgery at Oddball Kustoms in Ashburn.

Bill Taylor

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

ASHBURN, ONT.–Stony Smith works from home, in a place, he says with a certain pride, "that your GPS won't find."

It's in the hinterland off the eastern end of Hwy. 407. You have to know where you're going because that little robotic voice just keeps saying, "Recalculating ..."

And watch out for the wild turkeys in the driveway.

An eccentric location for a business? Oddball Kustoms is that kind of outfit.

Smith isn't much interested in building you a turnkey car all ready to go. He'd rather you did some of the prep or finishing work yourself.

"Anyone with money can buy a car," he says. "Our cars you earn. A custom ride doesn't have to be expensive. But you can drop as much money as you like here and I'll still give you homework to do."

Don't look for electronic fuel injection or mail-order parts that can turn a hot-rod project into a kit car. What you will find are carburetors and the dying art of marrying pieces that were never meant for one another.

And there are two guys who may use old techniques but insist they're not into "the old boys' clubs. We don't go to cruises and sit around in lawn chairs. We're the next generation."

Which is why they're planning to build a traditional full-custom lead sled – powered by batteries. And why there's a punkish sensibility to the place.

Smith's sidekick, who prefers to be known simply as Lorne – although he'll also answer to Tubby – talks about driving his '28 Model A Ford sedan to upstate New York recently for a H.A.T.E. rally.

That's Hotrodders Against The Environmentalists. Attitude, anyone?

Smith is 40 and Lorne 39. They've worked together for seven years.

Oddball moved to Smith's property last year, "after I discovered I was zoned for blacksmithing and sheet-metal work."

He has his own forge, too, for sandcasting metal.

Among the projects on hand to see them through the winter are:

A 1950 Ford pickup truck, fenderless, with a chopped top and the body "channelled" over the frame. It has a Chrysler Hemi hooked up to a five-speed manual box, a 1938 Hudson Terraplane grille, and old Lincoln headlight buckets fitted with high-intensity lights.

"You use the parts that you can find," says Smith. "You've got this grille? Okay, that's the grille. These lights? Okay."

A 1928 Model A Ford Tudor sedan, found being used as an outdoor Christmas ornament.

"It was red and there was Santa and his reindeer," Smith says. "And the car was mint!"

It's been chopped and has a 3.8-litre Chevy V6. It even has a camera for backing up.

A '53 Olds in for customizing. Most of the chrome and the door handles have been shaved off but there's still a way to go. You can buy remote switches for the doors but this is old-school: reach under the front fender and pull a cable.

It's sitting outside along with what the uneducated eye might see as hopeless junk. Smith sees endless potential: A '34 Ford dump truck; a 1926/27 Model T roadster body, built from parts found in three different places; a fenderless, classic'32 Ford Deuce roadster.

No, not a roadster. A Sport Coupe. Ford built fewer than 3,000 and you rarely see a souped-up version. This one is already a hot rod and just needs bringing back to life.

If you don't believe it can be done, Lorne points to his sedan. He rescued the body from a riverbed in Kansas. Under the black primer, you can still see the watermarks. The windows lower on straps. The engine is a 5.7-litre Chevy.

In common with most of the cars here, with their radically lowered bodies and basic paint, there's an air of "rat rod" to it. But the engineering and attention to detail are immaculate. Often, the starting point for a project is a chassis built from scratch.

"These cars are not just thrown together," says Smith. "They're strong and safe. A lot of the time the only thing that separates a rat rod from any other type of custom is $10,000 in paint and massaging.

"We do some pretty awesome metalworking. Sometimes it's sad to see paint go over it."

He's wanted to do this kind of work since he was old enough to pick up an angle-grinder. He learned in a machine shop. His son Dutch is 7 and, Smith boasts, "already knows how to weld."

Lorne was raised in Montreal where his father raced stock cars. He's worked in auto restoration "but that wasn't my bag. This is a passion."

Smith owns a 1950 Pontiac leadsled custom – "a bugger to chop the top because it's a fastback."

Then there's his '53 Dodge pickup, "the ugliest truck ever built. I want to chop the top, section the body and turn it into a classic full-custom job. With an electric motor. It'll go by you like a big golf cart – whoosh."

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