Phil Foster

Phil Foster grew up with the automobile. He was born at the start of the automotive age, in 1900, and he took up the mechanic’s trade because he was intrigued by the way mechanics had to lie full length on the running board of early-day cars to adjust the cumbersome old carburetors while the vehicles were in motion.

As some boys want to be a policeman or a fireman, he wanted to be a mechanic. Later, when the army kicked him back into civilian life in 1915 after finding that he was only 15 years old, he returned to that dream.

The makers of cars brought out an improved carburetor, and mechanics no longer had to be running-board cowboys, but by that time Phil Foster liked the trade.

Too young to take part in the war, he sought some activity with a touch of danger in it. He got his thrills from private flying (at one time he hankered to be a professional pilot) and from building racing cars along with Jack Smith, and driving in races.

But he stayed in the automotive trade, and some time in 1936, when he was beginning to feel he had had enough of car racing, he got interested in another hobby: collecting old cars.

“That was about the time old cars began to be looked upon as antiques,” he says. “Up to that time they were just old cars.”

IN THE MARKET

Himself a service station operator, Phil was in a good position to keep an eye on old cars. He told dealers that he would be interested in old vehicles.

The first elderly car he bought was a 1906 Model N Ford, which he later christened, “L’il Abner.”

In the 19 years that followed, he amassed 15 old cars and two antique motorcycles. Some of them were in fair condition and other were dirt-encrusted mouldering wrecks when they came into his hands.

He went over each one with slow patient skill, taking it to pieces, cleaning, repairing, scouring the country for parts, studying old handbooks, consulting experts, until the veteran car was near as possible to factory new condition.

Some of the cars are housed in Phil Foster’s basement, covered over with dustcloths to protect their gleaming paintwork and brass trimmings. Several more have temporary quarters in a barn.

For years Phil Foster has dreamed of setting up an antique car museum in Victoria. He hopes to do it before he is too much older. The only other automotive museum that he knows about in the West is the one sponsored by the Saskatchewan government. There are two ways you can collect and recondition cars,” Phil Foster says. “You can do it 100% for a lot of money; or you can do a nice job for a little money and a lot of time and hard work.”

He uses the latter method. “What I spend is mostly beer and cigaret money,” he observes.

It’s the labor of reconditioning that puts much of the value into an antique car. All collectors cherish visions of stumbling on an aged model in mint condition, but such a thing seldom if ever happens.

A typical case was that of a 1908 Buick which Phil Foster tracked down in the Comox district and managed to buy after negotiations extending over several years.

Phil and a friend travelled up there with a trailer to fetch the car. They found it stowed in a leaky implement shed, minus tires and altogether in a state of advanced decay. Some of the parts were scattered over the farm, in the tool-shed, in the hayloft, and elsewhere.

The “Sad Sack” as they christened the car, took two years of spare-time work to get in shape. “We had every bolt, nut, screw, and spring-leaf apart,” Phil Foster says.

Collectors insist on restoring a car to exactly its original condition, from engine to paintwork. It took some correspondence with fellow collectors to settle the correct color scheme for a 1912 Mitchell that Phil Foster is working on now. The car was made with several color options. Phil settled on yellow with black fenders.

The old cars must be in running order, too. Most of the items in the Foster collection have popped along in May 24 parades. In some years Phil holds them out of the parade, on the theory that the people might get tired of old cars if they saw them too often.

He may have inherited some of the skill and spirit of a craftsman from his father, Walter Foster, who was a cabinet maker in London, England, before he emigrated to Canada, and practised his trade in Victoria.