WILL’S RESTORATIONS at Sure Shot Customs may begin with a complete disassembly, a rebuilt drivetrain, engine, or transmission. A rebuilt differential, or front and rear suspension, maybe? Then, and only then, bodywork begins…where the Rembrandt thing really kicks in, followed by precision paint removal and a match of the original paint (actually, “matching” is far too imprecise a word to describe the aesthetic they’re reaching for). To the extent possible, the guiding premise is to make cars look and operate like they did on the day they left the factory—understanding how and why it made things the way it did. There’s also the odd request, of course, to alter or otherwise reimagine a car—in a form known to Will and his team—which can call upon advanced archaeological chops, radical imagination, grease monkeydom, and a host of arcane skills only dreamed of by your interviewer.
I found Will next to a supremely comfortable Chevy back seat repurposed as a front porch couch. After searching some time for a bowl, he offers deep-red chili warmed on the open fire, and as we talk looks around the yard wistfully, then says something in Spanish to one of his guys. He talks about the in-process cars here as if they were good friends whom he is helping out a bit, getting their lives back together, and each one has a story.
Maybe, if we could return to that hand-hewn automotive time that Will is busy reclaiming—if we could discover what made it so original and pure—we could do something like that for this broken country. It’s Santa Fe, after all, and anybody or anything is possible here, even a car like a nearby time-mangled but still magnificent 1946 Studebaker, slowly returning to the living from hopeless anonymity.
What made you come to Santa Fe?
I was born here, but spent a lot of time back East in New York, New Jersey, Boston, Philly. I’ve been around here long enough to appreciate the desert…the high desert.
What do you like about it?
Well, that you can have a little bit of space. It’s getting crowded, though, to the point where a lot of the transplants come and complain about things that “wouldn’t fly in California or New York.” A little bit of that outcast feel is starting to go away. Trouble is, that’s what I liked most about it…that people didn’t bother you. It seems like most of the people who are in the desert are either running from something or running from someone, or everyone.
What got you into this business, and what is the business, as you see it?
I started working on cars at Santa Fe High and immediately knew that’s what I was going to do with my life. It wound up, of course, like just about everything else…harder than you thought it was going to be. And I got mixed up with some of the wrong people and ended up getting into trouble with the law…rectified that situation and paid my debts, then came back with a point to prove to everyone that I was going to make something of myself and learn how to do something constructive and real. So I went and got some certifications in Wyoming—welding and auto collision and auto refinishing. I furthered my education, came back, and started my own place after trying to work for someone else, but couldn’t, really. You lose your passion a little bit. I started fixing people’s Subarus and Hondas and discovered that I would rather end up back in jail than do shit like that with my life. But, one by one, little by little, we’d knock out these old restorations and it got to a point where people just brought their stuff to us. It’s been 12 years now. I don’t really have to go out and sell jobs or anything.
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Photo Andy Johnson
