Not much beats finding an old car in a barn, but absolutely nothing surpasses the palpable thrill of finding a pair of World War II-era aircraft seats in such a car's cockpit. Why? Well it speaks of the very philosophy of those who forged the hot rod movement: Use whatever handy materials you can find to make a car perform better. And what seminal hot rodders found half a century ago were surplus yards brimming with robust parts that were engineered featherlight for aircraft use.
While most aircraft parts didn't fit the mold of an automobile, their seats often did. As a result, many a racer in the day cast off the couch-like benches in their hot rods in favor of a set of lightweight buckets, and nowadays finding a set in an old car usually means you've struck hot rod pay dirt. There's only one problem with this scenario: Like most of the old, forgotten hot rods in barns, the supply of useable vintage aircraft seats is drying up. And since aircraft restorers tend to sew extra-deep pockets into their pants, the price for a set of those highly esteemed stools can rival that of a decent original body.
As Dylan said, the times they are a-changin', but most recently (and most ironically if you understand that statement) they've changed to favor vintage enthusiasts. Over the past generation, we've gotten our bias-ply tires back; relatively faithful reproductions of our industry's favorite bodies-some in steel no less-make up a good part of the business; and one company made reproduction drum brakes its cornerstone. Sitting right there in the middle of everything is Frank Wallic, and you should know something about that neat old aircraft seat he's perched upon: it's brand new.
"A few years ago, I started building this '32 three-window project," he said. As we all tend to do-or should tend to do at least-he started getting creative. "I made this aircraft-style dash and battery box. Not too long after, I started buying aircraft seats."
But one common thread bound those seats. "After I got about six or eight pairs, I realized that they were too tall for most cars." And since he didn't have the luxury of choice, he was pretty much stuck with ill-fitting seats. Then a set of Fairchild trainer seats turned up. While they weren't perfect, they were close enough. Frank pulled some patterns from the seats and altered them to fit his car's confines. "I thought I'd make a pair for my car," however, two years and easily 40 pairs later, "I've never finished a set for myself," Frank said; "everybody wanted 'em!"
Have A Seat, Indeed ...Frank crafts each seat by hand from 5052-series aluminum sheets that measure .063-inch thick, a marginally thicker dimension than authentic aircraft seats since airplanes mount their seats at considerably more points than cars do. While he doesn't make a single seat model per se (he varies the styles frequently to avoid saturating the market with clones), he makes his standby seats to a dimensional standard: 23 inches tall, 18 inches wide, and 19 inches deep. While that's his standard, that dimension is not set in stone. In fact, he makes seats to owners' dimensions-to templates even-on occasion.
Sure, that handcrafted nature translates to a greater cost when compared to a conventional-style, off-the-shelf seat frame, but that price margin shrinks very quickly-if not reverses itself-once the final cost of a conventional seat enters the picture. Whereas one might be tempted to swathe a conventional seat in an expensive material-let's say leather-that sort of luxury is pretty much out of the question in an aircraft-style bucket. "You don't have much more than a square pad in seats like these," Frank told us. "I tell people all the time to just go down to the local surplus store and buy an old army tent. By the time you wrap that around a foam pad (he mentioned that Martha Stewart makes one for patio furniture that's the right size-no, he's not kidding), you're not into the upholstery much." As for the seat back, Frank suggests leaving it bare; it doesn't necessarily need padding since the relatively vertical surface doesn't bear much body weight, yet it offers an incredible amount of surface area. Think of it in the same light as a hammock.
Frank most recently applied the aircraft model to bench seats. In fact, Geoff Skene's zinc-chromate green Deuce roadster built by Ionia Hot Rod Shop that appears on this issue's cover boasts one of his recent adaptations. The seat, at 38 inches wide at its base, doesn't maintain a fixed width across its back; it actually flares to 41 inches wide at its top. "It's because most bodies are wider at the top than at the bottom," Frank assured us. While he leaves the seat the same height as the buckets for such applications, he told us he usually adds another inch to the seat's depth to help maintain a little proportion.
Despite those modifications we mentioned earlier, Frank is pretty true to aircraft seat fabrication practice. For example, instead of merely welding these seats, he assembles them with the same rivets aircraft fabricators use (as Frank says, Rosie riveted aircraft; Wanda welded boats). Bear in mind that these aren't your ordinary blind rivets; they're the hardened aluminum studs that deform as a result of being pressed between a pneumatic hammer and a formed-steel bar or rod. The process, called bucking, is a time-honored practice that's been part of aircraft manufacturing from its birth.
While aircraft riveting speaks of a certain authenticity, it's a very labor-intensive process; each application requires boring at least two holes in the sheets (more for each gusset plate and bracket), a certain amount of fitting, and the bucking itself. Furthermore, a single bucket seat requires on average 500 rivets (benches consume roughly 1,500). The number is so high because sheet aluminum won't bear much of a load at any single contact point; spread that load over a greater area by incorporating more rivets, however, and the resulting joints are remarkably strong. "You'll see people brag that their seats have 100 rivets in them," Frank pointed out. "That's simply not enough; the seat will eventually tear at one point."
Please let us make a bit of a point based on that last bit of information, for it's but one of the hundreds of tidbits Frank dispenses as he talks about seat fabrication. Such comprehensive knowledge doesn't come quickly; it's the result of a life's work. While Frank's life work didn't include aircraft-style seats until fairly recently, it's obvious he's studied the subject pretty thoroughly and applied his knowledge to the process. What's more, here's a guy who not only understands aircraft seats to a reasonable degree, he understands hot rods well and knows where the two subjects meet. You won't find that kind of knowledge or passion in many places, and you certainly won't find it in any object produced in significant numbers.
While Frank Wallic sells seats, he's offering a bit more than just a place to plant your ass. Each seat is sort of a celebration of our past, and every one represents a considerable amount of craftsmanship and passion. While the majority of us will never experience the thrill of discovering an old hot rod with genuine aircraft buckets, a select few of us will still get that feeling of squeezing past a rubber-clad steering wheel and planting ourselves in one of these magical buckets thanks to a guy who still wants to have a set in his own coupe one day.
