The Long Road Back in a ’52 Chevy 

Paul Davenport wasn’t looking for anything revolutionary when he bought a rusted-out 1952 Chevy he discovered in a Tecumseh field. At the time, he just needed a break from a “basket case” ‘49 he was rebuilding. But what started as a Craigslist find eventually carried him thousands of miles— and through a tough season of loss. 

“It had been sitting since the 80s,” Paul said. “The guy told me it purred when he parked it.” Spoiler alert: It did not. But it did have potential, and Paul had the know-how to bring it to life. When asked how he acquired the skills to restore a car far outdating himself, he laughed, “That’s just how I do stuff.” 

What began as a goal to “just get it drivable” turned into months of work: new fuel lines, brake lines, wiring, tank, rebuilt carburetor—you name it. “I’ve always liked working with machines,” he said. “I’m not much for the ‘car guy’ scene, but I like the hands-on part.” 

The timing of the build turned out to be significant. The pandemic years brought profound personal loss for Paul, and he found himself needing a path forward. His boss recognized this as well, and in 2021, he subtly sent Paul on a “professional” mission to visit the company’s steel plants across the country. 

Paul agreed, but bypassed his boss’s suggested modes of travel. I told him, “I’ll go. But I’m driving the Chevy.” 

So off he went, traveling through Edmond to Arkansas, Alabama, Florida, along the East Coast, across the Carolinas, and into Virginia. No air conditioning or cruise control. No podcasts or phone calls. Just him, the road, and a few gallons of emergency gas, thanks to an East Coast fuel shortage. 

“There’s something about being in an old car,” he said. “It’s all manual. You feel everything. You hear everything. You’ve got 13 hours of driving, so eventually you start working through things in your head.” 

He’s since driven the car across the country, including to the Rockabilly Weekender in Vegas, a road trip that took him through Bryce Canyon, St. Louis, and one temporary crisis when the Chevy sank into Death Valley’s silt. “It’s not a show car,” Paul said. “But it’s mine.” 

His girlfriend came along for one of the longer hauls. “She was checking flights home by day two,” he joked. “But we made it.” 

Along the way, people connected with the car. “It’s an old man magnet,” he laughed. “Guys came up and said, ‘I had one in high school!’ Or, ‘Thanks for bringing back those memories.’” 

In those 33,000+ miles, Paul has mastered the lost art of being alone with one’s thoughts. And he’s not finished yet. He says the car isn’t either. “That’s part of the beauty,” he explained. “There’s always something to tweak or improve.” And for Paul, there’s always another road trip to take. 

Follow Paul’s journeys on Instagram @LostSuperHighway.