Timothy Sheard, a 62-year-old mystery novelist, was leaning against his cherry red car, which was drawing attention from passers-by on an otherwise quiet Brooklyn street.
The car was a 1969 Avanti II. It looked both retro and futuristic, something that might have been driven by Serge Gainsbourg in 1960s Paris, or perhaps by Neo from “The Matrix.”
In 1963 Studebaker introduced the Avanti as a halo model, Mr. Sheard said. When the company faced financial troubles in the following years and shifted production to Canada, two car dealers in South Bend, Ind., bought the tooling, the remaining parts and the rights to the Avanti name — and resumed building the car, renamed the Avanti II, in 1965.
“They continued to manufacture it with the same guys that were building it for Studebaker,” Mr. Sheard said. “And they made it for about 20 years.”
Mr. Sheard was in jovial spirits. He wore a pink polo shirt, tan khakis and chestnut boat shoes.
Between responding to questions, greeting neighbors and flicking away random detritus that had fallen from tree branches overhead, Mr. Sheard described a rather ambitious book tour.
“I was a little bit foolish, a little bit romantic,” he said of the three-week, 3,000-mile journey to promote his third novel, “A Race Against Death” (Five Star Books, 2006). “I decided to go on the book tour driving the Avanti,” he explained. “Which was ridiculous, because you know it’s going to break down.”
He added, “Of course it broke down.”
Twice, in fact.
“I lost the front brakes in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania,” Mr. Sheard recalled. “There was no problem because I had the rear brakes, so I was O.K.”
“I called Studebaker International and said, ‘I need a brake part,’” he continued, referring to a company that specializes in Studebaker parts. “Well, they still had parts for it — most of the parts, not all of them.”
The part arrived the next day. “I found a little, tiny mechanic, no name, two young guys,” Mr. Sheard said. “The U.P.S. guy came right after lunch. He came barreling down this little road. They fixed the brakes, and I’m on the road again.”
Mr. Sheard traveled as far north as Milwaukee, then crossed Lake Michigan on a ferry and drove to Ann Arbor, Mich., where the radiator sprang a leak. (“No problem,” he said. “A little stop-leak and I was good to go.”)
In Ohio, he lost electrical power.
After getting a jump-start, he drove to another “tiny little garage,” where the mechanic made a diagnosis of alternator failure.
“So he goes in the back,” Mr. Sheard recalled, “and he just happens to have an alternator for the small-block Chevy engine from the ’60s. It had been rebuilt. It was like the ‘Twilight Zone.’”
Mr. Sheard said he enjoyed the challenge of taking a long trip in a 40-year-old car. “My wife doesn’t get this — it’s a guy thing,” he said, distilling the challenge to four simple words: “Can we make it? Can we make it? Can we make it?
“But I don’t think I’ll do it again. Next time, I’ll rent a car.”
Mr. Sheard is tall and has a gift for storytelling. Like his books, the stories come with a twist, including his own life story.
After graduating from college with a philosophy degree, Mr. Sheard attended nursing school and went to work as a hospital nurse in Philadelphia and then New York.
“When I hit 40,” he said, “I realized that I was in a habit of telling stories about my favorite patients and my favorite co-workers.”
He wrote down the stories — illustrating the spirit of his subjects — and sold them to publications for medical professionals.
Avanti, car