Following The Best Wednesday on Record, we at the Troutman Foundry car commune (North Carolina’s grungiest!) had our Best Tuesday on Record. Let the good times roll!
It all started with my buddy Mario Brunner, who works at Germany’s American Classics Magazine. Mario wanted to do a story and photo shoot on my dad’s one-owner F-250 work truck. Here are the day’s Cliff’s Notes:
Even for me, this was an abnormally packed day full of abnormalities. If you’re at the supermarket in Germany and see a familiar face from these photos on the magazine rack, I’d recommend picking up a copy, learning German, and reading Mario’s account of the day.
For now, I am here to talk about the Century.
You may be wondering why I’d even want something that looks like a Japanese Buick Electra 225. Or you may not be wondering that at all, because there are a million reasons we all need a Toyota limousine. Though somewhat old-school in its styling and archaic with its OHV Hemi V8, the slew of advanced technology packed into this interior represents the excesses of the 1980s Japanese Asset Price Bubble. If there were even a brochure available, it would have bragged about the following creature comforts to justify its $200,000 (inflation-adjusted) asking price:
If one were to read that features list on the build sheet of a 35-year-old European saloon, you would be advised to run far away. But the Century is from Japan. And in terms of engineering and built quality, it’s fair to think of it like a low, on-road 100-Series Land Cruiser.
What is a Toyota Century? Let’s recap. In a breathy sentence: It’s an ultra-premium, handbuilt, mega-understated VIP-hauler that was carefully screwed together by masters of their craft. Its customers were individuals at the top step of the societal podium, and because these elites were closely scrutinized, their cars couldn’t be flashy without upsetting established norms for propriety. But of course, inside, the Century had everything. Features and technology aside, that massive pricetag was also reflective of the car’s “heirloom” status. The Century was handbuilt in a special area of Toyota’s Motomachi or Higahi-Fuji plants by a team of well-vetted craftsmen, called takumi, who had been employed by the automaker for decades.
So. How did this Century go from that origin to this nonsense, overrun by kudzu and poked at by a bunch of idiots in North Carolina?
Here’s the story: My forever car friend, Steve, started dabbling in importing vehicles from Japan. He focused on whatever caught his eye, as long as it could be resold without a lot of drama. One of the first test cases for this scheme was the Carina GT I impulsively purchased. That process was a little rocky, but Steve kept at it and eventually built a pretty good business that imported Land Cruisers. The Century, like the Carina, was another early system test, executed just to make sure everything went smoothly. You know, before Steve bought anything of actual value.
Once it got Stateside, Steve realized that the air suspension was dead. The car was parked until he could offload onto some poor sucker. That’s where I enter the picture.
Fast-forward to now, when Mario and I are finishing the photo shoot on my dad’s truck. We ended up waiting by that vape shop for our U-Haul for more than three hours. It had been a long day, so by the time we finally got to Steve’s place to claim the Century, we were keen to just load it up on a trailer and GTFO.
Alas, this being a car that Toyota designed to survive almost anything, the pushrod V-8 sprang straight to life after a little time attached to a battery charger. Mario took some photos while us dumb Americans tried to R-N-D-N-R the Century out of its hole; but with car’s belly on the ground and the rear on the bump stops, it just wasn’t happening. With a little help from Steve’s Silverado, we made it out, at which point the huge old sedan just… drove up on the trailer on its own. It was that uneventful. The biggest bit of drama was watching Thomas try to crawl out the driver’s side door thanks to U-Haul’s left-side-only dropping fender.
Once we got back to the foundry, a crowd was already there waiting for us. Or rather, the Century, which was its own VIP. Rides around the block proved impossible to resist, and everyone pestered the chauffeur, Thomas-san, with requests and comments such as “please tilt my cigarette window outward while my calves are being gently pulsated. I like how they dangle through the passenger seat.”
The enthusiasm continued with an 8-hour-long wash and buff job. At this point, the Century was gleaming. The other side of that coin was that the cleanliness exposed the car’s flaws, namely the bubbling around the glass and peeling paint. If one wanted a pristine, unmarred Century, this was NOT a candidate. Fortunately, we are not so discerning, as far as Century owners are concerned. Whitewalls, Keystone Classics, and glass packs, maybe? A “Troutman Foundry Official Business” sign on the front doors? A selection of Japanese whiskey and canned meat products?
We shall see. For now, it’s the foundry’s flagship form of transportation. Yatta!
Matthew Anderson is a North Carolina native, professional engineer, and devoted crapcan connoisseur. He owns a Holden, a Citroën, a Hobby 600 camper, a Moskvich, a Studebaker, an Isuzu, and he thinks that’s it. We don’t ask him too many follow-up questions. –EW
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