Norman companies help rebuild vet's '79 El Camino

Since he was a little kid, Jeffrey Anderson Jr., loved El Caminos.

His dad, Jeff senior, drove one.

His granddad, Tom, drove one, too.

And Jeffrey “bought one to fix up” when he was 17.

The El Camino — sort of a combination truck and car made by Chevrolet — has a special meaning for the Air Force staff sergeant.

“I remember a long time ago, working at my granddad’s roofing yard,” Anderson said. “and he would pick me up and drive me there in his El Camino.”

That connection stayed with him.

The years passed, but Anderson’s desire for an El Camino didn’t.

A native of Southern California, he would eventually get married, join the Air Force and have children. His Air Force career would bring him to Oklahoma, to Tinker Air Force Base, and a home in Moore.

In Oklahoma, he’d find his El Camino.

“One day, I was looking around on the Internet and this guy was selling one,” he said. “It was the right time and the right price.”

The car happened to be in Mustang, for $1,350. But it wasn’t in the best of shape — in fact, it was pretty much dead.
“It was the guy’s working car,” Anderson said. “It had just about every problem under the sun. It was pretty much ready for the salvage yard.”

The windshield was broken.

One wheel was close to coming off.

Only about five of the motor’s eight cylinders were firing.

The quarter panels were beat up and filled with expanding foam.

The paint job was “primer red, primer gray and primer black.” Anderson called the color “primer rainbow.”

But, still, it was an El Camino.

And for Jeffrey Anderson, it was a project, that — when he had time — planned on slowly restoring.

Then came the war.

Anderson was sent to Iraq but the El Camino, along with his wife, Shawna, and the couple’s two children remained in Oklahoma. And he put his restoration project on hold.

Or so he thought.

Because while he was overseas, his wife — along with more than 40 of her newfound friends — would join forces to do what he couldn’t; they would rebuild his car.

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Built by Chevrolet until 1987, the El Camino was Chevy’s response to Ford’s wildly successful Ranchero. Both vehicles seem to be a combination of a truck and car, but are actually classified as trucks.

And they haven’t been made for more than 20 years.

But that didn’t matter because Anderson’s goal was to rebuild the car and reconnect to his past.

“I knew it wasn’t going to happen overnight,” he said. “I knew it would probably take 10 to 15 years, doing it myself.”

So he began working and then, shipped out.

But the car stayed in this thoughts.

“I told my wife before I left that she would have to start it and drive it a little to keep it from deteriorating,” he said. “And she said, ‘yeah, OK.’”

What he didn’t know is that his wife had other plans.

Shortly after he left, she contacted the Pedal Down El Camino Club of Oklahoma City. From there, members of the club contacted several local auto enthusiasts, including Larry Pennington, owner of Norman’s Body Works Inc., and Floyd Kelley, an automotive instructor at MetroTech.

When Pennington heard about the project, he agreed to help.

“They told me it was a pretty straight, clear car,” he said. “That it probably just needed to be prepped and painted.”

It was an optimistic assessment.

“It was pretty rough,” Pennington said. “But I signed up to do it and I was gonna do it.”

Enlisting the help of staff members at his three locations in Edmond, Norman and Oklahoma City, Pennington and company spent “about three months” rebuilding the El Camino.

“We had to remove the body from the frame because the bushings were so worn. In fact some of the bolts had rusted through.”

When they finished, the car was a show piece.

The interior was gutted and replaced with black leather and enough chrome accents to please the toughest auto critic — even the silver paint was matched to Anderson’s motorcycle.

The rear differential displays an eagle and American flag; a new 350cc motor sits under the hood.

“I was dumbstruck,” Anderson said. “I had no idea that was my car.”

Using donated parts and the labor of his staff, Pennington’s company took Anderson’s $1,350 investment and transformed it into a $45,000 ride — all for a man they’d never met.

“Well, it’s kinda like this,” Pennington said. “They are over there sacrificing for us, so we can make some sacrifices for them.”
Pennington said he offered to help because he understood what members of the military go through when they serve overseas.

“My brother is a 20-year military member. And I helped him when he came back. I told him he’d been over there fighting for our country and I’ve been here making a living. We wanted to help. All my guys felt the same way.”

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So just how do you return a serviceman’s newly restored El Camino to him when he has no idea that its been restored in the first place?

The answer involved some deceit, chicanery and a ruse or two.

In short, a full-fledged conspiracy involving Anderson’s wife, parents, Pennington, some military brass and dozens of others.

“When I got back, my wife picked me up at the airport,” Anderson said. “But she didn’t have the kids. I wasn’t too happy about that.”

Anderson’s wife told him the kids had “been a handful” so they were with her sister whom the couple would meet for dinner.
Anderson wasn’t too happy about that, either.

“Instead of driving home, we drove to Edmond, to go to some ‘quiet little place’ my sister-in-law had, supposedly, discovered.”

That quiet little place turned out to be a barbecue and auto show where Anderson’s newly restored El Camino was waiting.

After being led through the crowd by his kids, Keiran, 7, and Chase, 5, Anderson saw several El Caminos.

But none of them, he thought, were his.

“It took me a little while before I figured it out. Then I was dumbstruck.”

Instead of his “primer rainbow” beat-up El Camino, Anderson was looking at a shiny silver and black, ’79 model with new tread, chrome mags and a tag that said ‘vrynice’.

He also was looking at dozens of people whom he had never met, all standing and applauding for him.

“It’s great,” he said. “But what’s really wonderful are these people. How they all came together to do this. I could take or leave the car, but the people — that’s what’s wonderful.”

Since then, Anderson has claimed many friends. He went to Body Works to say thanks and talk to those staff members involved in rebuilding his car.

“What really meant a lot was when he went to the garage and talked to the guys,” Pennington said. “He told them he wished something like this could happen to everyone.”

Proof of that new friendship will soon be found in Anderson’s garage. Once it’s painted and signed, the El Camino’s original hood will hang on the wall, adorned with the signatures of everyone involved in its restoration.

Under it will sit Anderson’s motorcycle and the El Camino — the gift of a loving wife and several dozen people who just wanted to make life a little better for one soldier.

“We understood the sacrifice of people being without their family,” Pennington said. “My son is currently in India, serving as a missionary. I know what that sacrifice is like and, besides, I needed something to keep me busy.”