I wasn't going to carry this thread on any longer, but a couple of things stirred my desire to chime in, so, please indulge me. My history - after starting out racing and sweeping up a shop in my early teens, I progressed to mechanic, painted and assembled a well known Montana builder's custom bikes, and had a brief apprenticeship that didn't progress beyond filing lugs. I finished college, managed a few shops in Madison, WI and Minneapolis along the way, and have spent the last 17 years in the art and picture framing industry.
In the art world, how something is restored is most often dependent on what it is. If it's an original of historical significance and/or obscene value, like a rare Impressionist, a Bierstadt, a Maynard Dixon, or whatever, then the restorer works tirelessly to insure that his or her work is indistinguishable from the original master, down to the formulation of paint, the colors, the tiniest of brushstrokes. The intent is to "restore" and not to improve, nor put any sort of new "signature" on the painting by working in a manner different from the original artist. But, for every masterpiece, there are hundreds of things that somebody found in grandma's attic, and want made new. How far the restorer goes on this particular project is debated hotly, and has been for longer than all of us have been alive. There's no real answer here, folks, and there never has been.
My point? If you've somehow acquired Tullio's own ride from that fateful November day on the Croce d'Aune, you'd probably be advised to not repaint it in mirror finish Imron, neon fade or whatever the trend du jour is. Respect it for the piece of history that it is, and work with a restorer to make it as perfectly original as possible, lumpy chrome, runny paint and all. However, if you're the guy I sold my '82 Gianni Motta to ten years ago, and you're done with it, send it back - I'll sure as heck have it painted with better stuff than the flaky original enamel, inaccurate though that may be, and it will be worth it to me, damn the expense. In between those two extremes, there are limitless variations on just how important things are, both historically and personally, and the joy of thinking for oneself is as important as anything else.
There's a timely article in the December issue of Road and Track - here's
the link: http://www.roadandtrack.com/
For those of you who don't care to read it in full, it's basically a parallel debate to this one, based upon the Best of Show in the 59th annual Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance. To the author's mind, the Horch in question was presented in a state far better than the car was the day it rolled out of the coachbuilders, lovely, but wildly inaccurate. But worse than this, according to the author, is the current trend of "preserved" cars, presented in the condition in which they were found - totally original, and often terrible. Mr. DeLorenzo states that this isn't so much "preservation" as it is neglect, and does nothing but celebrate the fact that somebody didn't care enough about the car to care for it originally.
Cannon fodder. Fire away.
Derek Vandeberg
Bigfork, Montana