The Classic Chevy Experience

115 on the Back Streach

2011-06-28T12:24:00.005-05:00

When I first purchased my Tri-five Chevy, being new to the hobby, I decided to go to the Goodguys car show held at The Texas Motor Speedway in Fort Worth, Texas. I knew my car was not a show winner; however the draw for me to attend the show, was that participants were allowed to drive 3 laps around the Speedway. Of course viewing all the cars on display was and is always very enjoyable for me. Yet, I was to learn that show weekend that it is much more cost efficient to pay for a spectator’s ticket to see the show.

I have since stopped going to the big shows. My car labeled as a daily driver, even though I only drive it 2 or 3 times a month, is never going to win a big show. The truth is I feel embarrassed showing my car around all the tripled chromed, ten coats of clear, hundred thousand dollar cars. Do not get me wrong I am not coveting the big show cars, I am extremely happy that they are out there, because they give me much pleasure just getting to look at them. But, my car is, please pardon the expression, a little ratty with its 33 year old engine and paint job and ordinal interior. I guess car shows are not for me, but that does not mean I do not enjoy my car. There are many other activities I participate in, mainly with my car club the Dallas Area Classic Chevys.

Another reason I don’t participate in the big shows is their cost to participate. I have read and been told that some of the big shows cost from $100 to $450. To go to a Goodguys show it will cost you $45 to $80. The entry fees plus the spectator tickets makes me think someone is making a tidy profit. I think it makes one think about our hobby. You pay thousands to have a show car, plus hundreds to show your car and what do you get a $20 dollar trophy or plaque, if you win. I guess the same could be said about racing cars, flying airplanes or having a boat. I had a friend said, “You can’t be having fun unless you are spending at least $5 a minute.” Yet, the money I spent to drive around the Texas Motor Speedway in my mind was well worth it.

Who has not watched NASCAR on TV and not wanted to drive around a race track? As I said, the Goodguys’ show I went to allowed me to drive my car 3 laps around the Texas track.

After waiting in line for an hour they lined us up on the track. To keep things safe each group followed a pace car while driving around the track. The pace car maintained a speed of 60 to 70 miles per hour. Once starting our laps the group I was in spread out and went single file down the track.

To get the full experience of the track, I drove a lap on the top to see what the banking felt like, one lap on the bottom for that view and the last lap I followed the racing grove. The first two laps were uneventful, just driving along taking in the view and the experience. The third lap was the lap that I really remember the best. You see my lap mates and I all had a secret plans. The pace car kept a constant pace; however for reasons only, we hoped, known to the group could not keep up with the pace car. We kept lagging behind leaving a larger and larger distance between us and the pace car.

To make up that lost space we just had to take the first turn a little hotter than the pace car’s speed. After feeling the G-forces of turns one and two I saw an open back stretch, so to keep up I just had to put the pedal to the metal. With the stock rear end and a 3:55 to 1 gear, I have done the math and I calculated that my car would be lucky to hit 120 miles per hour. That day I felt the need to put my calculations to the test going all out to hit 115. Regretfully, before I was to top out, I started to catch up with the line and had to shut her down. Now in pace, what do I see, but a guy in a red 68 Camarro wiz by me on the inside. I thought what the heck; let’s get the full experience, so I whipped in behind him passing several cars in my group to zoom past the finish line.

My time on the track was not the total “Petty” NASCAR experience, but fun none the less and well worth the money I spent to get that experience.

Barn Finds

2011-06-15T12:40:00.004-05:00

Many people look for and dream of finding a car of their dreams hidden away in an old bar. I have often wondered what story each car had to have that allowed it to be stored away for so many years like a time capsule.

Even though there seem to be many Tri-Five Chevys still surviving, it is a rare thing for them to survive since they were designed to only last 5 years. Memorial day 2011, I walked though the 250 or so cars at the Lone Star 29 Tri-Five Chevy Convention wondering what stories each car could tell about its 50 or so years of existence. Would it not be interesting to know what fell into place to keep each car away from the scrap heap?

I was lucky enough to learn some history of my Tri-Five. The car was bought new by a lady that kept it 20 years. The next person that owned the car had it for a year before giving it to his son. During that year of ownership the man made the car for his son into the hot rod that it still is today. His son drove the car his senior year of high school and a year after, before selling it.

My car’s story is tame compared to the lucky guy in Peoria, Illinois who in 1978 found then purchased a perfect 1956 Chevy that had been in a garage for 20 years. Besides 2 decades of dust and 4 flat tires the car was perfect with only eighteen thousand miles on the odometer.

Peoria was built on the banks of the Illinois River. North of town the river narrows and the bluff goes right to the edge of the river making for a pleasant view of the flowing river and a great place to build homes for that reason. In the area 6 condos were built during the building boom after World War II. The condos were built on stilts situated on the side of the bluff. However, the condos’ garages were built level with the river and Gelena Road.

Late one night in 1958, one of the condo residents came home after a night of drinking at the Black Angus Restaurant and Bar to park his car in the garage. The next morning, hung over, he walked down the stairs to his garage to find his car was not there. In 1958 having a car stolen from you was rare, but an easy thing for thieves to do since, most people left their keys in the car’s ignition.

Twenty years later, the man had gotten married and had moved on to a larger 4 bedroom home in the Richwoods area of town. However during that time, the man’s next door neighbor, a widow woman, had never moved.

The neighbor had lived in her condo for 30 years. She had moved there, downsizing, after her husband had passed away. As many women did of her generation, she never learned how to drive.

As these things go, after her passing, the woman’s children came to her condo to disperse of her things. As an afterthought, they decided to go look in the garage that the lady had never used. After having trouble opening the door to the garage to their amazement they found a 1956 Chevy in the garage. They were totally baffled as to why a car with 1958 license plates was in their mother’s garage.

The police came and after an investigation they discovered that 20 years before the ladies neighbor had gotten mixed up and parked in the wrong garage, where the car sat for 2 decades undisturbed.

I am sure most “barn finds have an interesting story, but most I am sure were stored with the owner’s knowledge.

Aerosmith, Yeah!

2011-06-01T13:42:00.005-05:00

“The count was three and two, bottom of the ninth, bases loaded,” Skip said aloud, as he tossed up a wiffle ball in the air. The ball floated back down to waist level when, Skip slammed it with his wiffle bat. As Skip watched the ball arch over the roof of his dusty green clap board home he noticed the familiar rumble of John’s blue, big block 55 Chevy. Skip quickly threw the wiffle bat behind a nearby cedar tree to hide it. Without looking back, Skip started walking towards his driveway to meet John.

After, pulling into the driveway John yelled, “Rock and Roll!” Skip said, “Far out man. You already have the tickets?” John replied, “Not yet.” A little putout, Skip said, “What the? The concert is sold out, man. How are we going to get the tickets? John smugly said, “Don’t worry my man, I knows a guy that told me of a guy that we can score some ticket from. We’ll go get them right now. You collected the money from everyone, did you not?” Skip said, “Yea.” John said, “We can take my car or would you rather take your car?” Skip said, “No, my car has a rear axle bearing out, better take your car.”

Rolling up Skip’s street John asked, “I thought you were broke from fixing that pile of junk car of yours. How did you get enough money to buy your ticket?” Looking straight through the front windshield skip explained, “I knew you would not have bought the tickets in time so, I charged everyone scalper prices. I’m hoping we will be able to buy the tickets and have money left over to buy my ticket.” John gasped, “That’s cold man! You are charging the guys a carrying fee?” Skip said, “That’s right, if I have to go to all this trouble to get the tickets the guys owe me. And, really do I have a choice? It’s either that or I don’t go.”

John down shifted into second gear to hear a satisfying rumble of his 55’s twin tail pipes as he pulled on the scalper’s street. Skip said, “Wow, it’s a little seedy here. Wasn’t that Aiken Alley we just passed? OH MY, it was, we are on Prairie Street. What are we doing here?” John said, “Calm down, we’re alright. What was that address? Here read what I wrote on this piece of paper?” Skip said, “423. There it is. Pull in here. Didn’t Richard Prior grow up around here?” John said, “Who?”

John and Skip sat in the car as they surveyed the two story apartment in front of them. John said, “Let do this!” Stepping out of the car John and Skip were startled when a man loomed out of the shade to lean over the railing of the building’s second story porch. He demanded, “What do you want here?” John looked up and said, “Ahhh, we are here to see Leroy to buy tickets.” The man said, “You guys cops?” John said, “No.” After a pause the man said, “Alright then come on up. Use the stairs in the back.” As Skip followed John to the back of the apartment building, Skip jumped when he felt a tug on his shirt. Skip said, “John wait up. Something’s got me!” John laughed at the same time Skip heard a giggle from the second story porch. Looking up, Skip saw a young boy holding an open reel fishing pole. Skip realized the boy had hooked him with the fishing pole’s line. The man looked over the porch and said, “Jimmy, looks like you have caught a big one, but if I were you I’d throw it back.”

John led the way up a wooden set of stairs that was in dire need of paint. When Skip started his way up the stairs they creaked and wobbled back and forth after each step. On the landing John knocked on a faded white wooden screen door. Several minutes later, Leroy came to open the door. He stuck his head out to look both left and right before zeroing in on John. Leroy said, “You the dude that wants to buy the Aerosmith tickets?” John nodded. Leroy looked at Skip and said, “Whose dat?” John said, “He is my friend Skip.” Leroy replied, “If you say so. Come on in.”

John and Skip followed Leroy into the living area of the upstairs apartment. Surveying the dimly lit room that smelled of smoke and cherries the boys saw the furniture consisted of lawn chairs and a card table. John looked to his left to notice a full length mirror oddly built into the wall. The first thing that went through his mind was that the mirror was a two way mirror and that there was someone with a machine gun on the other side watching them.

Without offering the boys a seat Leroy set down at the table. Leroy said, “You wanted six tickets to the Areosmith concert being held at McCormick Auditorium in Chicago?” With one eye looking at the mirror John said, “Yes.” Leroy said, “Good, that’ll be 60 bucks.” Skip reached into the front pocked of his faded Levi jeans to produce six-ten dollar bills. Leroy took and started to count the bills. Leroy said, “Ten, twenty, forty, sixty, and eighty.” Leroy looked at John before handing Skip back a ten dollar bill. Leroy said, “Hey man, he gave me too much.” Eying the mirror John said, “No disrespect but he didn’t.” Leroy scrunched his eye brows and counted the money again. Leroy said, “No man, I came up with eighty dollars.” John said, “Let me count it.” Taking the money back, John counted the bills out one by one laying them in a pile on the table. John counted, “One, two, three, four, five and six. See its sixty dollars.” Leroy gave a big belly laugh and said, “Well I’ll be, your right” as he stood up to put his arm around John’s shoulder. Leroy said, “I tell you it is sure hard to find an honest man now days. Most dudes would have taken the money. I know I would have but, not youse. You’re a good kid. I likes you.”

Leroy set down and opened a gray metal box to produce 6 tickets. Leroy said, “Here you go kid. Hey, can I interest you in Grand Funk Railroad tickets? They’re playing at ISU on the eighth. I’ll give you a good price.” John replied. “Maybe later, for now just the Areosmith tickets.” Leroy said, “Suit yourself.”

Jumping off the last step of the rickety stairs Skip said, “Let’s get out of here!” John said, “No doubt!

The White Elephant

2011-04-15T08:58:00.007-05:00

Empty stoneware dishes sat out on the dining room table as a cool breeze blew pleasantly from an open window on the diners relaxing at the table. Another Sunday family meal was over. However, this dinner was going to be different than most Sunday dinners of finishing dinner, washing the dishes, then watching Bonanza. Tonight Skip’s parents did not get up after their desert of rhubarb pie. Even though Skip was finished he remained at the table, always the polite young man.

Skip’s father cleared his throat and said, “Skip.” Skip thought, “This could be bad or it could be good.” After a thoughtful pause Father continued, “Your mother and I have been talking.” Skip’s mind raced, “Mon and Dad talking, usually never a good thing.” “We have decided to give you a car for your Seventeenth Birthday.”

Skip’s heart leaped, “a Corvette, a Camaro, do continue.” Father said, “Your Grandmother Ester will not need her car anymore, God bless her, and she wants you to have it. She knows you have always liked it.

“No kidding?” Skip said, “I’m getting her ‘57 Chevy? I love that car.” Father said, “Having a car is a big responsibility. We want you to learn to respect what you have by having to pay for maintaining it as well as learn how to fix a car.” Skip said, “I love that car, I’ll work on it all the time.”

Father reached out to hand Skip two gleaming silver keys. Father said, “Next weekend, I’ll help you get the ‘57 home.” Skip replied, "That’s ok, Jack can take me to Grandma’s house and follow me home.” Father said, “No, I better go with you, because I believe the engine has a blown head gasket and will not run. We will have to tow it home.” Skip said, “OK, head gaskets are easy to fix.” Father said, “I know you have been working on cars with Jack and Greg and have helped me for years, however I don’t want you tearing apart an engine and never getting it back together. No, I have made arrangements to take the car to Bud’s Garage for the repair. Bud told me, he could have it done in a day or so and it will cost $30.”

Father walked out to his blue Ford truck to go to Grandma’s house. Skip and Jack stood waiting impatiently, ready to go. Father said, “You have the chains and the tire?” Skip said, “Yes, and I have some wrenches to undo the drive shaft.” Father said, “Good thinking, I didn’t remember that.”

After crossing the Illinois River the trio drove to a white oak forest which signaled that the turn to Grandma’s house was near.

Driving around the house to the lean to shed out back, skip instantly saw the broad gleaming chrome front bumper of the ‘57. Skip’s, new to him, car was a white 4 door hard top 1957 Chevy Bel Air. Skip’s excitement increased as he remembered the car had a 283 cubic inch engine with a 4 barrel carburetor along with the factory option 3 speed automatic transmission. Grandpa always the cheapskate had saved a few bucks by putting on glass pack mufflers which gave the car a mellow rich engine sound.

Jack said, “Why is the car leaning to one side?” Father said, “Oh no, it must have a flat tire.”

Skip pulled out the jack from the ‘57’s trunk. Before his lifted the spare white walled tire, he noticed that the spare was flat. Skip said, “Looks like we are going to have to buy a new tire, the spare is flat.” Father said, “It just needs air let’s go to the Gulf Station and get some air in it.”

Arriving at the Gulf Station, it was obvious the station was closed. To skip’s disappointment the station’s attendant had taken in the air hose. Skip said, "What are we going to do?” Father said, “Let’s go to the hardware store, maybe they have a bicycle tire pump.

Skip stood up straight in an attempt to stretch out his stiff back. His hands stung. He looked at them to see blisters across the palms. Father said, “Skip, that's that’s full enough now, put it on while Jack and I hook up the chains. When you get the wheel on put those cinder blocks under the frame and crawl under to take off the drive shaft”

Father said, “Skip my boy, I’ve got bad news. Bud called and apparently, Ester over heated your car. The car has a cracked block. I told him to put in a salvage yard engine. He said it will cost $400. Skip said,” Dang, $400, OK, I guess.” Father said, “Well, that not all the car also has a front wheel bearing out, plus it needs new brake shoes. So, you will have to pay $475. Skip said, “OK, I guess I don’t have a choice do I.”

At the corner, Skip got off the bus. His heart leaped when he saw his ’57 sitting in the driveway. Resisting the temptation to run to the car, Skip walked home.

The sun was big and orange in the sky as Skip and three of his friends looked over the ’57. Jack said, “I would put twin aerials on both rear fenders.” Patrick said, "Why, don’t you keep the fender skirts and add a Continental kit?” Skip said, “The twin aerials would be cool, but I don’t like skirts or a Continental kit.

The group looked up to see Greg pull into the driveway with his white Nova. Once out of the car Greg said, “Did anyone get hurt in that wreck?” Skip said, “Very funny, how you doing Greg?” Greg replied, “I’m hacked off. I put a 4-speet Muncie transmission out on my driveway for Ben Saver to pick up and some low down dog stole it before Ben got there.” Jack said, “That’s terrible, when did it happen?” Greg said, “I put it out before I went to work and Ben came by around noon.” Jack said, “This happened yesterday?” Greg replied, “Yea.” Jack said, “Mark didn’t you tell me you saw Cory Snodgrass at Greg’s house yesterday morning?” Mark said, “Yea, I stopped him going out the driveway to see if he was going to play softball.”

Greg said, “Really! Snodgrass hugh? Well, I’ll have to see about that!” As Greg started to leave he turned back and said, “By the way, we are having a campout up at Starved Rock Park this weekend. Why don’t you guys load up in Skip’s car and come on out?” Greg stopped to look under Skip’s car. Greg said, “Why is that oil leaking out under your car skip?” Skip looked and said, “I don’t know.” Greg said, “I bet it is transmission fluid. For sure, you damaged the rear seal of your transmission when you took off the drive shaft to tow it home.”

Skip woke up to birds chirping, or more like killing each other, outside his bedroom window. Upset at the disruption of his slumber, Skip suddenly felt better when he remembered today he and three of his buddies were going camping. Still sore from crawling under his car to replace the transmission seal Skip rose out of bed to go to the bathroom down the hall.

Jack said, “You put the red one on the positive side and black on the negative side of the battery. Why’s the battery dead? I don’t want to get stuck at Starved Rock.” Skip replied, “I left the key on. We should be OK it’ll charge on the way there.”

As Skip drove Jack, Lori and Dennis up Route 29 to the campsite, Dennis said, “Look a hitchhiker, let’s pick him up.” Lorie said, “Really, a hitchhiker. I wonder how many families he he’s killed this week? Skip said, “Hey, we know him, that’s Dave Shafer.”

Dave smiled and said, “I just went to a biker funeral and my ride left without me.” Skip asked, “Why are you going north rather than south to where we live?” Dave replied, “Didn’t you hear, I live in Joliet now with my sister. My old man and I can’t get along.”

Jack asked, “Who died?” Skip said, “Jack! Show some respect.” Dave said, “That’s OK I really didn’t know the guy, it was a club thing.” Jack asked again, “How did he die?”

Dave said, "The Stiff owned a 750 Honda. He had made it into a drag bike, mini handle bars, lowered shocks and wheelie bars. The idiot was riding the bike in Chicago on the Dan Ryan. He pulled out in traffic and got on it! Wouldn’t you know the wheelie bars got stuck in a crack in the road? Of course he laid it down. Unfortunately for him, he was in front of a Greyhound bus and it ran him over.”

“Dang,” said Mack, “I bet that hurt.” Dave said, “I guess so, it killed him. Jack said, "Where did they bury him?" Dave said, “At the Rest Haven Cemetery on War Memorial Parkway. Skip said, “Yea, I heard about that. That guy was an Arapaho wasn’t he?” Dave said, “Yea, he was. My M/C in Joliet is affiliated with the Arapahos, so I went. I tell you, those Arapahos know how to do it right. They bought two cemetery plots, one for the guy and one for his bike. After a minister said his words they lowered the casket and the bike into the ground. Instead of throwing flowers his club threw beer cans and peed into the hole.” Jack said, “Peed?” Dave said, “Yea, you deaf? But, they were not through. The club filled in the graves with dirt then one by one every one of them drove their bikes over the graves.” Skip said, “That’s interesting.” After giving Skip a look Dave said, “That’s when the guy I was riding with rode over the grave and never came back for me, the jerk!” Jack asked, “How did he forget you?” Dave said, “I guess, just typical prospect hazing.”

Skip said, “We are in Sparland, “I have to turn here to cross the river to get to Starved Rock.” Dave said, “That’s cool, drop me off here. I’ll get a ride soon.”

After dropping his rider off, Skip pulled into a service station to get gas. After collecting a couple of dollars from each of his camping buddies, Skip filled up his gas tank. Finished with fueling the car, Skip checked the oil to find he was two quarts low.

Finished, with everyone loaded into the car, Skip turned the key, but the engine did not turnover. Instead, smoke wafted out from under the dashboard. Everyone in the car dove out of the doors of the now on fire ‘57. The boys were standing looking at the car when a service attendant walked up and said, “What happened?”

The attendant checked out the car to find that the ignition wire had burned up. As a quick fix the attendant ran a hot wire from the battery to the negative side of the coil, which made the ’57 run again. The attendant said no charge, but skip tipped him $2 for his trouble.

Across the river and several miles down the road a car pulled alongside Skip honking his horn and pointing. Skip said, “What does he want?” With the motorist following, Skip turned into another service station. The motorist said, “I’ve been trying to catch you to tell you, that when you went over the rail road tracks your gas tank came loose. Skip and the boys again piled out of the car and to Skips horror, the gas tank was in fact hanging down half out from under the car. The tank was only being held by one holding strap as the other strap hung down loose dragging on the road.

Skip waved to the motorist as he left. Jack said, “Let me crawl down under there and see if I can push the tank back up in place.”

Jack was under the car pushing and trying to adjust the tank when it came loose falling on him. The filler tube tipped down poring gas allover Jack’s chest. Jack flew out from under the car. Skip grabbed the tank tipping it up on a concrete curb to stop the flow of gas, but not before five or six gallons had poured out.

Dennis said, “Jack you looked like a scalded cat coming out from under there.” Jack said, “Shut up, I could'a died if that gas had caught on fire. Skip Said, “Now what?”

Again, a service attendant walked up to them, but said, “You having a little trouble?”

Back on the road Jack said, “We are lucky that both those places were open on Saturday.” Skip relied, “Yea, I guess so, but I had to give the last guy my wrist watch to cover the bill. I didn’t have enough money. Also, the guy said the trunk deck is so rusted out that I’ll have to replace it. He used a 2X4 to hold the tank in place.”

Skip and the boys got out to stretch before walking to the camp fire. Greg said, “Where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting on you. Skip said, “We had a little car trouble, but it’s fixed now. Palo said, “You mean to tell me something happened to that great American piece of machinery? What is that, your Grandma’s car?” Skip, Said, “Well, a, it was.”

After everyone finished laughing Greg said, “I know Snodgrass is the son of a female dog that stole my tranny. I always knew you could not trust him. When I see him I’m going to walk up to him and say flat out, did you steal my tranny. But, I bet, he lies about it. I should just kick his butt.”

Dennis asked, “Where’s Scott? The circle looked at one another before they busted out laughing. Greg said, “Scott had an accident.” Skip asked, “Is he all right?” Greg said, “No he’ll never be alright again.” Palo put a slab of baloney on a stick to start cooking it over the fire. Palo said, “Go ahead tell ‘em what happened.”

Greg said, “I’ll tell you, but you won’t believe me. Scott went into the Porta Potty to take a leak. When he bent over his sun glasses fell in. You haven’t been into the Porta Potties, but they are quite full. Scott got the bright idea to reach down and pick up his sun glasses. Big mistake, because he lost his balance and fell in. Jack said, “No Way!” Greg said, “Yes way!”

A commotion caught the attention of the group. Out of the darkness came 4 guys rolling a giant tire, ten feet tall. Without saying a word, they rolled the tire onto the fire.

Skip said, “This is getting out of hand. Let’s get out of here before the Park Rangers get here.”

The boys got into the ’57 while Jack hooked up the hot wire. Skip turned the key, but after 10 minutes of grinding the engine would not start. Greg came over and said, “You have gas?” Skip said, “A half a tank.” Greg said, “It must be a vapor lock. Let’s pour some gas down the carb.”

Skip got home after midnight. His father met him at the door. Father said, “I thought you were camping out?” Skip said, “We changed our minds.” Father said, “Let me ask this? What do you have all over your face that makes you look like a coal miner and why is there water running out from the front of your car?” Skip sighed and said, “You don’t want to know and the other is the gift that keeps on giving.”

Jack called skip on the phone to ask, “Hey skip, the guys are getting together to go to an Areosmith concert, you wan’na go?” Skip replied, “Sorry, I can’t go, I’m broke.”

What Happened On Old Route 29?

2011-03-16T10:57:00.011-05:00

The green ’69 Chevelle shuddered as Alban shifted from first gear into second while doing a massive burn out. While slamming the gear shifter into second, to Alban’s horror' the shifter knob pulled off the shifter lever. Alban looked down in disbelief as he held a shrunken head in his hand.

“Alban wake up,” his mother said loudly! Shaking Alban she said, “Its 6:20 and you were supposed to be at work at 6 o’clock. Your boss just called wanting to know where you are.”

Alban said,”OK, OK, I’m up!” With the sound of a closing door in the background' Alban sat on up the edge of the bed to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Alban thought, “Man, 6 o’clock on a Saturday in the middle of summer vacation. What am I doing up? What is my motivation? Oh yea, my paycheck.”

Alban looked for his clothes he had thrown on the floor the night before. Thankful that his mother had not put away his shirt and jeans, Alban put them on fireman fashion. In 3 minutes he was carrying a piece of buttered toast to the garage on his way to work.

Alban worked at the local Convenient store on weekends and a couple of nights a week. Usually he worked the 4 to midnight shift, however the manager had given him the dreaded 6 to noon shift both Saturday and Sunday. Only the young could get 3 hours of sleep and then go to work.

Luckily, the work Alban preformed at the store was not that taxing. He was the pump monkey. The store had gas pumps with cut rate gas, 5 cents cheaper than the local Texaco station down the road. Not a full service station, Alban pumped gas for customers, cleaned their windshields and only checked the oil when asked.

Walking in the store, Alban’s boss Kelly said, “You were supposed to be here at 6, what happened?' Alban replied, “I’m sorry, my alarm didn’t go off.” Kelly said, “Likely, because you didn’t set it. Alban made no reply. Without missing a beat Kelly said, “Here’s your change.” Kelly handed Alban 20 ones, 5 fives and 2 tens along with a coin change dispenser with 10 pennies, 5 nickels, 5 dimes and 10 quarters Alban accepted his change putting the coin dispenser on his belt and the placed the cash in his right front pocket.

Kelly said, “We have a box of iceberg lettuce in the back. Go back and wrap it up to put on the shelf, then fill the shelves in the cooler. Looks like we sold a bunch of beer last night.”

Still half asleep, Alban moped to the back room to wrap the lettuce. After opening the lettuce box Alban trimmed then wrapped each head in plastic wrap.

Alban became bored while wrapping the lettuce. To help relieve the boredom, he reached over to turn on a radio to WRIL, catching the end of the news. The radio announcer, Mark Wainwright, finished with, ”…yet another tragedy on old Route 29.” The radio got Alban attention with the mention of a local road but no more information was given as the song "Monster Mash" started playing.

“Ding, Ding” went a bell in the back room signaling that a car had pulled up to the gas pumps. Alban put the lettuce down to walked quickly to the pumps.

Sitting at the pumps was a blue ’57 Plymouth Belvedere. Behind the wheel was an old man at least 50 years old. Alban stood at the driver’s window smelling burnt oil as the driver rolled the window down to say, “Put in 2 gallons.” Alban said $2 worth?” “No,” the man replied, “Only 2 gallons, regular.” Alban said, “OK, I’m sorry, usually people ask in dollars.” The man said, “No, only 2 gallons.”

Alban went to the pumps, took off the silver nozzle from the side of the pump using the nozzle tip to turn the pump on before pumping 2 gallons of fuel in the car’s tank. Finished, Alban walked to the car window and said, "86 cents please." The man wrote the amount on a check, passing the check to Alban before driving off.

Watching the old car drive away belching blue, smoke Alban looked down to notice the man had written the check in pencil. “Oh, no!” Alban said, “Kelly won’t like that!”

Halfway back to the store Alban heard a screech, then a bang. Turning around to face the pumps he saw Bill Sherman in a '63 AMC Rambler had pulled into the pumps, but had caught his front fender on one of the guard polls that had been placed on the 4 corners of the pump station to keep people from running into the pumps.

Alban jogged to the car to see if Bill was OK. Immediately Alban could smell beer wafting out of the lowered driver’s window. Not only did Bill smell like beer, he was holding a ½ full can of beer in his hand. Alban said, “What the?” Bill took a swig of beer to say, “Ohoops did I hit something?” Alban said, “A yea, you did.” Bill relied, “I don’t care…I don’t like this car no how. Now take my Camaro…now that’s a car.” Alban said, “Doesn’t it have a 396?” Bill replied, “Yep, it used to but, I sold the motor. It was just too big, you can build a small block cheaper cause the pistons are smaller, you know. Alban could only say, “OK? a, you want some gas?” Bill relied, “No, I just drove over here to run into this poll." Without warning, Bill moved his car forward slashing a groove down the whole side of the car. Not satisfied he backed up to hit the poll again but missed it. Alban said, “Stop it Bill you’re going to get me in trouble. If you want gas you are going to have to move up. I can’t reach with the hose.”

“Bill slurred, “You know Alban, you’ve done a good job on your car, the paint, wheels, 4-speed and all but you gotta get a better motor." Alban replied, “Yea, I know but, I’m going to college this fall so I guess I’ll’ never have the money to build an engine, at least, until I graduate in 4 years." Bill said, “I’ll build you a motor. I like to build motors.” Alban said, “I’ll remember that. Say, I heard something happened on old 29 last night. Do you know what happened?" Bill replied, “Yea, I saw cop cars out there but, I was drinking don’t you know, so I turned the other way.” Alban said, “OK, so do you want gas or not?” Bill said, “No, I just came in to run into that poll. I've been up all night drinking you know. I think I’ll go home now.”

As Alban stepped out of the way Bill moved his car to take another swipe at the poll. Alban watched in amazement as Bill hit the poll bouncing off to drive across the parking lot through a ditch and on to the highway turning in the opposite direction to get to his home. Scratching his head Alban said, “Far out.”

With no car at the pumps, Alban went into the store, fixed the lettuce, stocked the cooler and dust mopped the entire store floor. Finished with the floor he glanced at his watch. He was aghast that it was still only 8 o’clock. Bored, he went to the counter to say, “Kelly if you want to do your price changes I think I can watch the register. If a car comes for gas I’ll call you.” Kelly said, Thanks,” as she took her price change sheets to work the shelves.

After 20 minutes of ringing out early risers’ purchases, Alban saw his two friends, Dee and Tammy, walk into the store. They walked to the donut tray to buy a couple and filled themselves a large fountain Pepsi.

As Dee and Tammy walked to the counter Alban said, “Sodie, not coffee this early in the morning?” Dee said, “I like my caffeine cold.” “OK” Alban said while punching in the amounts for Dee and Tammy’s items in the cash register. Out of the corner of his eye Alban saw a police car on the highway stopping to come in for free coffee and donuts.

As Dee and Tammy stood drinking their Pepis and eating donuts, Alban said, “Did I ever tell you what Woody told me?” Dee said, “Who’s Woody?” Alban said, “You know, the County Mounty.” Dee replied, “Oh yea, least I forget. What did he tell you?”

Alban smiled as he said, “Woody told me if I ever was being robbed that I should just duck down behind the counter so he could use his deer rifle to shoot the robber through the window. Oh, lookey here comes Woody now.” With a look of horror on her face Dee said, “Alban, if you duck down I’ll kill you.” Alban said, “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t do that to you now, would I?” Dee said, “Yes, you would, you brat!

Alban said, “Why are you guys up so early?” Dee said, “We are going horseback riding.” Alban said, “That’s cool. Where at?” Dee said, “There is a rental place up over the hill behind Lake Of the Woods. Alban said, “I’ve never heard of that place. Say, something happened on Old Route 29 last night. Did you hear of anything? All I heard on the radio was there was there was a tragedy out there. I didn’t hear the rest.” Dee said, “No but, I’ll find out." Alban replied, “I know you will.”

As Dee left the store, County Sherriff’s Deputy Woody Carson entered. Woody said, “Hey, Alban how's it hanging?” Alban replied with a smile, “A little to the left today. How about a cup of coffee? “Woody replied, “Don’t mind if I do.”

Alban poured Woody a cup of coffee with sugar no cream and passed him a cinnamon twist. Alban said, “I heard something happened up on Old 29.” Woody said, “Yea, that was terrible, such a tragedy.” Woody took a bite of his twist as Alban waited for Woody to continue. When he didn’t Alban said, “Well, what happened?” Woody said, “I can’t tell you, cause the Sherriff hasn’t gotten ahold of all the next of kin yet. But, Watch the news tonight, Terrible, just terrible." Woody finished his twist in silence and took a long pull of his coffee.

Alban said, “You saw those two girls that left?” Woody said, “Yea.” Alban said, “So, they are friends of mine.” Woody said, “Yes I know. Don’t they live almost next door to you?” Alban said, “That’s creepy that the police know so much about me. I guess it figgers, with 1984 only 8 years away.” Woody smiled. Alban said, “You want to help me pull a joke on them?" Woody asked, “What is it?” Alban said, “As you know Dee drives a blue Pinto. Why don’t you pull them over and give her a sobriety check?” Woody shook his head and said, “We’ll see, we’ll see.”

Alban just finished eating a beef jerky and a package of Sugar Babies for dinner followed by a 16 ounce Pepsi when he noticed a brand new brown ’76 Firebird pull up to the pumps. Right off Alban noticed the car still had the dealer sticker on the window.

With a burp from the Pepsi, Alban stepped out the door to walk to the gas pumps to provide service for the new Firebird. Halfway to the car Alban recognized Mike Baker behind the wheel. Mike was the school's rich kid. His dad owned the local department store and several other businesses in town. Alban said, “Sweet, where did you steal this car?” Mike replied, “I didn’t steal it, my dad bought it for me for my sixteenth birthday.” Alban said, “Far Out!” Is your birthday today?” Mike replied, “Yes it is.” Alban said. “That’s cool, having your birthday on the first day of spring.” Mike said, “Yea, well, fill it up with Premium.”

Mike waited to pull out of the Shaky’s Pizza with Doug, Mark and Steve jammed into his Firebird. Once traffic was clear Mike made sure to squeal the tires while pulling out of the parking lot. Not a mile down the road, Mike noticed 2 head lights coming up fast behind him. With one eye on the road and one in the mirror Mike watched as a Porsche 914 pulled up within feet of his rear bumper. Mike knew it was Ben Razpor and that Ben wanted to race. To show that he saw Ben and knew his game, Mike slammed on the brakes. Ben anticipated the move and easily avoided the stopping Firebird.

Mike knew the drill. In the three months since he got his divers license he had raced the circuit many times, his Firebird always winning.

The circuit consisted of racing a mile through a winding downhill local park lane, a 5 mile straight away of a 4 lane highway, to a fork in the road. Both forks in the road were 2 miles of back roads that emptied on Old Route 29. Old Route 29 was a 4 mile stretch of straight road. Both forks empty out on each end of the road. The object was to race to the middle of Old Route 29 where Greg Fogg’s house was located. Whoever got there first was the winner.

Mike secretly wiped his hands on his jeans to make sure his sweating palms did not slip on the steering wheel. Now only 200 yards to the entrance to the park, ever watchful of Ben in his rear view mirror, Mike was tempted to punk out and start early, but fought off the temptation.

Mike made the turn into the park and Ben pulled alongside of him. Ben took off first but Mike’s V-8 engine easily catapulted him into the lead as Mike and Ben roared down the road.

With the throttle floored, Mike was turning and burning with Ben on his tail. Mike went 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 miles per hour to then slam on the brakes and gas through a sweeping right hand turn. Break, break, break, Mike slowed to cut the corner of another right turn. Mike raced easily through a left and two rights turns. The car floored and hitting 60 miles per hour, Mike saw to his right the entrance to the Candy Land Playground, which was his breaking point for the hairpin turn. Hard on the brakes, so much that Doug in the passenger’s seat had to put his hands on the dashboard to keep from falling off the seat.

Mike let off the brakes to push on his customized emergency break and slid around the hair pen to a burst of throttle. Normally, this move put a great distance between him and his opponent, however Ben was still right on Mike's bumper.

Short straightaway to a hard left, where Mike put on the brakes. Ben either on purpose or by accident bumped Mike’s rear bumper. Mike now enraged, slid into a hard left turn, to fight a bad oversteer in the next right turn. This misstep allowed Ben to pull under Mike, passing him.

With Ben leading the way, both cars pulled out onto the highway. Having lost the lead, Mike was over driving his car. Taking off on the highway the Firebird broke traction, making it go into a smoking fish tail slide.

The 914 being nimble, was better in the turns but not at top end straightway speed. Peddling the throttle Mike was now under control of his car in wide open pursuit. 100 yards, 80, 50, 20, 10 and Mike caught, and then passed Ben. Mike looked down to see his speedometer was pegged out at 140 miles per hour.

Almost missing his breaking reminder, the Texaco station, Mike stepped with both feet on the brake pedal. Mike felt his brakes fade but he keep pushing down harder and harder on the pedal.

As per custom, being the first to the fork in the road, Mike took the right fork. Ben behind took the left fork. Alone now, Mike could take his eyes off the mirror and focus on the road ahead. The right fork consisted of 4 long sweeping turns that Mike took easily at over 100 mile per hour. The fork ended with a T in the road where Mike turned left onto old Route 29.

This time, waiting until his car was straight before flooring it; Mike quickly had his car going 120. Not seeing any headlights and anticipating a win, Milk let up a little on the gas.

A mile into Old Route 29, Mike saw an oncoming light. Ben! And they were dead even in the race. Not ever wanting to take a loss, Mike gave the Firebird everything she had as he drove to over 140 miles per hour down the center of the road.

Mike saw the lights on Ben’s car go from one dot to two prompting Mike to move over the right lane, but Ben also moved to the same lane. Mike moved to the left hand lane as did Ben. Mike realized Ben was playing a dangerous game of Chicken.

Alban drove down his home street tired and smelling like gas after a full day at work. His parents were still at church so there was no reason to go home, so he drove to Von’s house.

As Alban drove into the driveway he noticed Dee was with Von sitting on the front porch.

Without coment, Alban went to sit on a green lawn chair next to Von on the porch. Von said, “You going Wednesday?” Alban said, “No, you?” “No.” Alban asked Dee, “You going?” Dee shook her head no.

After a long thoughtful pause Dee announced, “You will never guess what happened to me last night,” Alban asked, “What?” Dee said soberly, “The cops pulled me over and made me walk a line.”

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font-size: 14px; color: #4F4F4F; text-decoration: underline;">No. of Visits

Turn the Lights Off and Go

2011-03-04T17:49:00.004-06:00

With Alban’s best friend Von at work this morning Alban was listless. Not wanting to set around the house Alban told his mother he was going to walk up to Greg Lewis’ house to see what he was doing on with him. Alban knew that if Greg was home he would be doing what he always did, working on his 1969 Chevy Nova.

Just as Alban suspected, Greg was in his garage working on the Nova. Alban said, “Hey Greg, how’s it going?” Greg bent over the driver’s side fender of his car with his head under the hood said without looking up, “Is that you Al? Hand me that extension over there. My header bolts have come loose again.” Alban said, “Where’s it at? This time look up Greg said, “Over there in the green tool box.” Alban said, “Oh, I see it. Do you want the short one or the long one?” Greg said, “The short one, the long one hits on the inner fender.”

Alban picked up the ratchet extension and handed the chromed tool to Greg where he attached it to his ratchet and placed a socket on the end. While Greg worked on tightening the 16 bolts that held the headers on his 427 Chevy engine Alban noticed that Greg had slicks on the back wheels.

Looking down, Alban said, “I see you have the slicks on your car. So, did you race Fogg last night?” Greg said, “Oh! That hurts,” as he wiped his bleeding knuckle with a red shop towel. Alban said, “What happened?” Greg replied, “Oh the wrench slipped and I hit my hand on the back of the alternator bracket. Greg asked, what were you saying?” Alban said, “Did Fogg show up last night to race you” Greg said, Oh yea. You didn’t hear what happened?” Alban said, “No, I was out with Von. We thought the fewer people there better; you know the cops and all.” Greg said, “Well, you’re right about that. I appreciate that you didn’t tell anyone about the race but I can’t say the same about Fogg. He must have called half his kinfolk and all his friends. There must have been 50 cars there lining the road. But, I didn’t care, I was going to show that no good Fogg that he’s a fool, the more people to see it the better”.

Alban said, “Far out, so what happened? Greg replied, “It started out good but things quickly went downhill.” Alban asked, “How’s that?” Greg said, “I showed up at 11 on the nose. I didn’t want Fogg griping. I pulled up to the starting line to see Fogg just standing there surrounded by 20 or more guys. I rolled down my window and said are we going to race or what? Fogg got in his car and pulled beside me. I brought Jim with me to bleach the tires. After we dusted off the tires we lined up and wouldn’t you know as soon as I took off I saw police lights coming up behind me. Well, everyone started scrambling for their cars. I thought I was going run over a couple of them. Fogg immediately made a turn into his farm to go hide behind a barn. I knew I couldn’t get stopped because it would be my second offence. So you know what I did?” Alban said, “No, what?”

Greg said, “I flicked my tail light cut out switch.’’ Alban said, “What’s that?” Greg explained. “I installed a switch that turns off my back tail lights, so the cops can’t see them.” Alban asked, “Does that work? Can’t the cops see your head lights?” Greg said. “Yea, it works, it works good, you’d be surprised how well the cut out works. I just drove off and the cops never saw me.” Alban asked, “What happened to all the spectators?” Greg said, “Jim told me that when the cops got there they took down everyone’s name and told them to go home.

Alban said, “That good, I’m glad no one got in trouble. Greg said, “Me too! Do you want to know the worse part? Alban said, “What’s that? Greg said, “One of my Mom’s friends saw what I wrote and her son ratted me out. Mom was waiting up for me last night for me. Boy was she mad. She told me I had to take that off the road. “Alban said, “How are you going to do that?” Mike smiled and said, That’s easy, I’m going to cover it with burnt rubber.

Dallas Autorama

2011-02-23T16:30:00.004-06:00

The doldrums of winter may still be with many of our car loving friends across the Northern part of the country however, for the Dallas Area Classic Chevy Club the Dallas Autorama car show kicked off the 2011 car show season literally, with the bang of a dragster’s engine.

The show took place near downtown Dallas at Market Hall located on Stemmons Freeway. The renowned show included restored, customized and new cars. Also, there was a burn out competition, monster truck exhibition and a cacklefest.

Celebrity appearances were headlined by the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, wrestling superstar Shawn Michaels, Texas Ranger’s mascot Captain Ranger, Debby Ryan who plays the loveable “Bailey” on TV’s Suite Life on Deck and Danny White the author of the book “The Last Rock’n Roll Show,” which is a great story of Buddy Holly and a chase across the country for the recording of his last show.

The DACC was well represented at the show with a display of 7 cars and 1 Corvette. Members cars at the show were Joe's 57 Bel Air hardtop, Nick's 56 210 sedan, Marvin's 55 Bel Air sedan, Scott's 57 Bel Air hard top, Jim’s 57 Corvette, Greg's 55Bel Air, Jim's 55 Bel Air sedan and Andy's 56 Bel Air sedan.

With the Autorama behind us, DACC’s members look forward to the Spring Classic Chevy Show for ’55, ’56 &’57 Chevys. The show will be held at Reliable Chevrolet, from 10 AM to 1 PM on March 12, 2011. There will be no judging and no fees. All Tri-Five Chevy cars, trucks and Corvettes are welcome and you don’t have to be a member to show your car. The show’s sponsor Reliable Chevrolet will give awards to their favorite picks as well as provide hot dogs and drinks. The show will be held at Central and Arapaho in Richardson, Texas.

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The Way to a Girl’s Heart

2011-02-18T09:45:00.009-06:00

Alban raced down old Rout 29 with the “peddle to the metal.” The 307 cubic inch engine of his green 1969 Chevelle was at its maximum RPM but not really screaming, just making a dull roar. Looking at the speedometer Alban read 104 miles per hour. Not satisfied with only 104 he pressed harder on the accelerators peddle but the Chevelle was topped out at 104.

Alban could feel the front end of the car floating as he released his foot pressure on the accelerator to gradually coast to 30 miles per hour. He had learned from past wild rides not to slam on the brakes because of a lane changing pull to the right.

Finding an intersection Alban used the extra space to whip the car around to face where he came from to attempt another pass down the road at full speed.

Before the second speed test, Alban pulled his car to the side of the road to tinker with his engine. He hoped to gain another couple horse power out his sorry excuse of a V-eight engine. First Alban removed the air cleaner placing it in the cars back seat. Next he took a 9/16 inch wrench out of his back pocket to loosen the bolt holding the distributer in place to advance the timing a few degrees. Not knowing any better Alban adjusted the high speed idle screw a ½ a turn. Not being able to think of anything else Alban stepped back to look at his handy work before he slammed down the car’s hood.

While looking over his shoulder at the empty black top Alban noticed a sweet pungent order. He thought to himself, “Something smells like antifreeze.” Sure enough under the car was a puddle of the orange liquid dripping from the cars over flow hose. “Dang,” Alban said aloud. “She looks like she’s overheating. I better not make another run today.”

Sliding in behind the wheel Alban pushed the floor shifter lever up and to the left into first gear to the then looked over his left shoulder for traffic. Satisfied no cars were present, Alban gingerly pulled away from the side of the road.

Alban driving at the posted speed limit of 55 miles an hour noticed something written on the road with white spray paint. Curious, he slowed down, pulled to the side of the road, stuck his head out of the window and read, “Fogg’s a Chicken”. Alban thought, “What’s that about?”

Alban drove the 4 miles from his self imposed test track back to his home neighborhood. Instead of going home he pulled into his best friends Von’s drive way.

After knocking on the front door Von came outside. They both sat down on lawn chairs on Von’s front poach.

Von asked, “What going on?” Alban replied, “Not much. I took my car out for a test run to see if placing the 4 barrel on it made a difference over the 2 barrel carb it had before.” “Well” said Von? Alban said, “It made a 9 mile per hour difference.” Von made no reply.

Alban said, “I saw something interesting spray painted on the road.” “What’s that” Von asked? “It said Fogg’s a chicken.” replied Alban. Alban now had Von’s full attention. Von said, “Really! That’s interesting. You know what that’s about don’t you?” “No,” Alban said. Von said, “Greg Lewis with his 69 427 Nova challenged Mark Fogg to a race the other day and Fogg turned him down.” Alban said, “I don’t blame him. Lewis’ 427 looks fast and doesn’t Fogg only have a 350 in his car?” Von said, "I heard Fogg has a 302 out of a Z-28 Camarro.” Whatever it is, the motor really winds. I saw him get on it the other day and he really rapped it out to a least 7 grand. Alban replied, “7000 RPM’s. I can’t even get 5000 out of my old heap. Mmm, so that’s why that was written out on Old 29?”

Von said, “Didn’t you know that they were having street races out there now? Lewis with several of his buddies are racing out there for money. Alban said, “I wonder how much Lewis wanted to race Fogg for?” Von said, “No telling with Lewis, most likely $50 or more.”

Von said, “I would like to go see the races but they have been keeping them a secret. Alban replied, “We just need to wait to see when Lewis leaves his house with slicks on his Nova.” Von said, “That would be a sure sign.”

Alban and Von both looked across the street to where Greg Lewis lived. The garage door was opened reveling Greg Lewis’s white Nova setting in the garage wearing street tires.

“Did you see on the news where Israeli commandos went in and freed the passengers and crew of that hijacked French airliner at Entebbe Uganda,” Alban asked? “No,” Von replied, “what’s that about?” “Alban said, “Well, there were a bunch of people being held hostage in Uganda, which I think is in Africa. Most of them were Israeli citizens.” Alban stopped talking as both he and Von herd a muffled rumble of a loping engine coming near them. Both saw at the same time Mark Fogg’s blue 1972 Nova. Alban and Von watched Mark turn his car, into Greg’s driveway. Von said, “I bet Fogg is mad.” Alban said, “You bet he is, let’s go over and see what happens.” “Sure,” Von replied.

Setting in his car, Greg revved his engine three times before turning it off. Greg got out of the car looking at Mark's front door. As Alban and Von arrive they noticed that Greg had turned to look at the door in the garage that led to the Mark's house to see Mark walk into the garage.

Mark walked through the garage to stop on the edge of where the driveway started and placed both hands above his head on the bottom of the open garage door. Mark sneered, “What are you doing here Fogg?” Before Mark could say another word Greg said forcefully, “Who do you think you are Lewis writing that nonsense on the road about me?” Mark replied, if the shoe fits wear it.” Greg said, “I’m not chicken to race you, I’ll race that piece of junk of yours any day.” Mark said, “Really? That’s funny that’s not what you said last weekend. Let me think, oh yea, I believe you said my Carbs aren’t balanced, yea, that’s what you said.” Greg Lewis said with exasperation in his voice, “Well they were…you think I was born yesterday, I won’t race you if I know I can’t win.” Mark said. “That’s right, you can’t win.” Greg said, “Woo, nice burn, did your mamma teach you that?” Mark just smiled back in response.

Greg said, “I bought a vacuum gage and set my Carbs. I’m going to show you how lame your car really is. You might be able to put a big block in that piece of junk of yours but that don’t make it fast”

Mark said, “Is that so? Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?" Greg paused and said, “OK, I’ll race you any time any amount. Mark stared for over a minute then said, “All right big boy a 100 bucks, tonight on Old Rout 29 at 11:00. Greg swallowed and said, I’ll be there and you better be.”

Greg got in his car and slammed the door shut. Without looking where he was going he backed his car out the drive way on to the street. Staring at Mark, Greg floored his car making it spin the tires leaving a 30 foot smoking twin patch of rubber on the road.

Alban looked at Mark and said, “Fogg looks fast. Your think you can beat him?” Mark said, “No problem. There is no way Fogg can ever get as many ponies out of a small block as the 427 I put in my car. Besides he’s only running 70’s series tires on his car. He’ll never get his tires to hook up on Old 29 before I have wiped his butt off the line. Even if he does, I could still take him in the top end. Fogg thinks he is all that, but he ain’t. He’s just rich farm boy that talks a good game that don’t know his way around an engine.”

Mark’s Mom walked into the garage and said, “Mark, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you and your friends horsing around with your cars like that. The neighbors already hate us. Say goodbye to your friends and come in to eat dinner.” Mark whispered, “I better go. Say guys, don’t tell anyone about tonight. I don’t want a hundred cars there watching. That will surly bring the cops and I can’t afford another pinch for racing. Alban said, “We won’t tell anyone.”

Both Alban and Von left Mark’s house to have dinner with their families. Soon after dinner Alban walked to Von’s house. Alban knocked on the door, stepped in the house to then be let into Von’s room. Alban said, “You want to go to the race tonight?” Von turned down his stereo music and said, “What?” Alban said, “You want to go see Lewis and Fogg race tonight?” Von said, “No, not really. I have to open at work tomorrow morning and I don’t want to be out that late.” Alban said, “Just as well, I really don’t want to myself. I really don’t like Lewis’ friends. They are a bunch of jerks. Besides, knowing my luck the cops will show up and I’d get arrested. I’ll never get a teaching certificate if I get arrested. “Von said, “Exactly! What do you want to do?” Alban said, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” Von said, “I’ve got an idea.”

Von put on his shoes and led Alban out of the house to the front drive way. Von unlocked the door to his 1968 dark blue Chevelle convertible. Von sled in to the black bucket seat to lean over and unlock the passenger’s door for Alban. Alban settled in the car and immediately noticed Von had stuck a beer bottle top on every knob of the car’s dash board. Pointing at a bottle top Alban said, “Nice, you going for the the early hillbilly look?” Von ignored Alban as he started his car to then put down the convertible top. To help, Alban unlocked his side of the top and rolled down his side of the car’s front and back windows. Alban said, “What are we going to do?” Von said, “Wait and you‘ll see.”

Von drove at a normal pace to the neighborhood Convenient store. Still not saying a word, Von went in the store with Alban to purchase 2 cans of red spray paint along with a can of transmission fluid.

Back in the car Alban asked. “Are you going to challenge someone to a race? “ Von just shook his head no and laughed.

After pulling out of the store’s parking lot the blue Chevelle cruised through a neighborhood up a hill out of the valley in the direction of the local make out spot. Driving near the scenic look out Alban said, “I don’t know what you have in mind but I’m not into that.” Von smiled and said, “Very funny.”

Without slowing down Von drove past the famous make out spot to drive a mile down the street to a county black top road. He pulled down the road to drive another mile to stop at a secluded spot in the road that was hemmed in by trees on both sides.

Looking both ways Von said, “You see any cars coming?” “No,” Alban said. Von double checked before he jumped out of his car with a can of spray paint.

Alban still not knowing what was going on got out of the car to follow Von. Von went to the middle of the road and painted a heart the size of the double lane road. Satisfied with his handy work Von wrote VS + JS in the heart to then finish with an arrow through the heart at a 30 degree angle.

Both Von and Alban stepped back to see how Von’s art work looked. Alban said, “WWEEE, Von how romantic. This is the road to Julies’ house. You know she will see it on the way home.” Von replied, “That’s the plan.” Alban scratched his head and said, “I think you are supposed to put the girls name on the top not the bottom. I think the way you did it means she likes you but you don’t like her.” Von thought a moment then said, “Oh Well, I can’t fix that now. And now for the icing on the cake...”

Von ran towards his waiting car prompting Alban to do the same. When both boys were in the car Von drove his car to just above the heart he had painted on the road. With the car idling Von got out of the car to punch 2 holes in a can of transmission fluid with a beer can opener. Going to the back tire on the driver’s side Von pored half the can of fluid on the road in front of the tire to then run to the other side to do the same to the other tire. Von finished by throwing the empty can in the weeds along the side of the road to finally run back to his car.

Alban said, “What the heck are you doing?” Von said, “Wait! Watch this!” Von floored the accelerator making the engine roar. At first the car did nothing but set still on the road with the tires spinning. Gradually, the car moved slowly as the rear tires exploded in smoke. Going at a snail’s pace with the rear tires spinning a 100 miles per hour the car first fished tailed to the left then to the right. After his car went 200 feet down the road Von released pressure on the gas pedal to bring the spinning tires to a halt.

Both Alban and Von looked over their shoulder to see a cloud of smoke dissipating over twin S shaped tire marks on the road.

Alban said, “Nothing says I love you like laying rubber.”

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Run Away

2011-02-08T15:26:00.006-06:00

Alban opened the garage door to be hit in the face with the smell of dead worms. Wrinkling his nose Alban thought, “I’m glad the rain is over, this worm smell is gross.” With the garage door now open Alban stepped over the dead worms on the floor to take a look at the clear blue early morning summer sky. Aloud Alban said, “Not a cloud in the sky.”

With the happiness of the blue sky, Alban turned on his heel and bounced to his green 1969 Chevy Chevelle. With a flip of the wrist he opened the door to then slide in on the cool green vinyl seats. After three pumps of the accelerator Alban turned the key to produce a throaty V-eight engine roar. Once the black and blue exhaust smoke cleared away, Alban slipped the Hurst shifter to the left then up into reverse.

While first gear wined Alban double clutched and shifted in to second gear to then drive at a leisurely 25 mile per hour up his street to school. With the weather finally warm, Alban rolled down his driver’s side window to place his elbow partially out the window on the door.

Not looking at the passing scenery, it suddenly occurred to Alban that he had only 4 weeks left of high school before graduation. Alban thought, “Wow, time sure goes fast. Before you know it I’ll be 53 years old.”

Yet still only 18, Alban a class of 76 senior was happy that the last semester of his high school year was mostly just blow off classes. The morning consisted of first period off, then second and third period were Auto Mechanics. His fourth period was his favorite period which was lunch followed by Speech and English Classes.

The Auto Mechanics classroom was a 3 bay detached garage out past the football stadium made of gray cinder blocks with a flat roof. The building had once been a maintenance facility for the district’s busses. The district had contracted the busses to a private company and no longer needed the facility. Not wanting the garage or the tools inside to go to waste the district made the facility into an Auto Mechanics shop.

Alban slid his car into a parking spot in front of the Auto Shop’s gray granite gravel drive way 2 minutes after the tardy bell. The teacher Mr. Rapp who loosely ruled over the classroom was still in his office on the phone. Alban sat in his assigned seat, a gray folding chair with a bent seat and a back rest with greasy finger prints.

Inhaling the shop’s grease and oil smell Alban noticed a new smell. A gust of wind blew the familiar smell towards Mr. Rapp’s office prompting him to stumble out of his office to proclaimed loudly, “Who’s smoking?” A chorus of not me met his plea. After scanning the room Mr. Rapp walked out of the open garage door looking for the smoker outside. As he stepped outside Alban listened to his best friend Von sing, “Everybody knows that smoking ain’t allowed in school.”

Mr. Rapp for once had the whole classes’ attention as he walked outside to only find Fred the janitor finishing a smoke before he came in the shop to empty the trash that was supposed to have been empty the night before.

The class slowly turned around to face the podium disappointed in not getting to see a fellow student get in trouble.

After asking how Fred’s family was Mr. Rapp walked to the front of the class to call out names for roll call. All 14 students were in attendance that day even Cliff who was absent most of the time after enlisting in the Marines.

Finished with the roll Mr. Rapp said, “Now class, today we are going to discuss the basic fuel system. The fuel system is really critical to the engines operation.” For the next 20 minutes Mr. Rapp droned on lecturing to the class about the purpose and parts of a fuel system to finish with, “Do you have any questions? None? Then let’s go to work.”

With those words the class woke up out of their stupor to walk out to their cars parked in the drive way. Mr. Rapp took his 2 favorite students with him over to work on a World War II era 6x6 truck the district bought surplus to use to haul desks from the present high school to the new high school building that was scheduled to open the next year. Placing his attention on the truck Mr. Rapp left the remainder of the class to their own devices.

Gradually students checked their car’s oil and looked at their engine to then meander over to John McCabes primer gray and blue 55 Chevy. He had the car’s tilt front end open reviling a freshly rebuilt bored .60 over 454 Chevy rat engine.

Bored, Alban walked over to John’s car and asked, “What are you doing?” John replied, “I put this Tunnel Ram intake on last night and the linkage to the 2 Holley 650 Carbs keeps sticking.” As John worked the throttle linkage back and forth Alban said, “Should the main rod be as such an angle? John replied, “It has to be to not hit the distributer.” After a pause of concentration Alban said, “I’m sure that angled throttle rod is your problem.” Without looking at Alban John said, “I don’t think so. I think if I just oil the carb levers it will be OK.”

John took a black oil can and depressed the bottom to put a drop of oil on each lever connector. Finished John placed the oil can on the tire of his car to then work the throttle linkage back and forth several more times. Satisfied, he shouted to his friend Marty, who was sitting in the driver’s seat listening to WLS on the radio, “Start her up Marty! Let’s see how she runs now.”

Marty cranked over the engine to a wine, then a cough through the twin carburetors. John yelled, “Pump it.” Marty pumped the throttle 3 times before turning on the starter.

While the class looked in on the starting effort of the 55 it made a violent growl to life. To everyone’s horror the throttle was stuck wide open allowing the engine to scream with an ear piercing roar. Franticly, John tried to close the throttle by hand but it would not move. While John yanked at the linkage Mr. Rapp appeared to pull the coil wire off the distributor to kill the rampaging engine.

Everyone stared at the 55’s engine as it sat smoking in silence.

Breaking the silence, Mr. Rapp said, “What the hell did you do?”

As John explained his debacle, Alban and the class heard the ending bell ring releasing them to lunch.

As Alban and Von walked to the main campus they could hear John start up his engine. Von said, “Do you hear that knocking?” Alban replied, “Yea, I bet John threw a rod. What a shame, that motor being new and all.” “Yea a shame,” Von ventured. The two walked a few steps. Von said, “I hope they have hamburgers today for lunch. “ Alban said, “I hate that mystery meat they make the patties with.

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2011-02-08T15:22:00.001-06:00

W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S

2011-01-26T12:05:00.007-06:00

W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S (Wacky, Retirees, Enjoying, Neat, Chevys, Hot rods, Engines and Stuff) is a DACC group of retired and non-retired members that are enjoying their passion by working on each other’s cars.

It has been said that the difference between a street rodder and a hot rodder is that the street rodder has a can of wax in his trunk where as the hot rodder has a box of tools in his trunk. The W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S are of the tool in the trunk group that enjoys turning a wrench or two when they get together.

The W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S have assembled three times since their inception. The first meeting eight club members got together to put a 55 Chevy car body on a newly redone frame. The second outing five members met to install brake lines on a 55 Chevy. The last outing seven members assembled to put new bushings on the front end of a 56 Chevy.

A typical W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S meeting starts at nine in the morning with bench talk, dough nuts and coffee. After a couple of belts of java members tear in to the day’s project working until lunch. In the case of the front end rebuild the group was able to disassemble the front end and press fit in new bushings in the A-frames. At noon the host serves lunch. Following lunch the project is hopefully finished.

The W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S’ meetings are rewarding for everyone. The car owner gets help on a project. The participants get to work on a classic Chevy. The watchers can learn how to work on a car. And, all in all everyone gets the benefits of fellowship.

If you like cars, like to work on or restore cars or even like to talk about cars W.R.E.N.C.H.E.S is a group for you.

Even though retiree is in the name you don’t have to be retired to join in on the fun. All Club members may participate.

For more information watch the club’s chat room for future events and how to participate.

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Fire!

2010-12-13T21:05:00.008-06:00

Fire is a one of those things in life that will get your attention. All my injuries, aches and pains were quickly forgotten when I heard a pop and saw a big burst of flames erupt on top of my engine. Upon seeing the flames, I jumped out of the car and grabbed a gallon jug of water I keep handy for such occasions. Dousing the flames with water did little good and in hind sight water only spreads the flames and makes a gas fire worse.

Not wanting my car to burn up, I spun around to run across the garage for my fire extinguisher. In no time, I was back at the car with my extinguisher in hand to shoot two puffs on top of the engine and one under the car. Thank the Lord the flames were put out.

I had knee surgery less than a year ago and have not run for some time due to continual knee pain but, the pain was all forgotten when the fear of my car burning up along with my house had me sprinting like a track star.

This whole catastrophe was set into motion when I was adjusting the idle on my car. While doing so, I noticed that the secondary float bowl on my 750 Holley was leaking fuel. To adjust a Holley carburetor‘s fuel level you remove a sight screw on the side of the float bowl.

Then, using a 5/8 inch wrench and a regular screw driver adjust the float’s height by turning the float adjustment screw. The float is adjusted until fuel just stops dribbling out of the sight hole.

To fix my carburetor, I took out the sight screw and without success attempted to adjust the float. While I was working on the float adjustment all the fuel pressure drained out of the float bowl. Needing fuel in the bowl to make an adjustment, I had the bright ideas to turn on the engine to pump more gas into the float bowl for further adjustment. Without thinking, I forgot to put in the sight screw in the sight hole. I assume a steady stream of fuel squirted out of the carburetor that then burst into flames from a bad spark plug wire or a carburetor back fire.

The fire destroyed eighty percent of the electrical wires in the engine bay and forty percent of the paint on the hood.

Inspecting the carburetor, I found that the zinc lining in float bowl delaminated. The metal chips from the pealing zinc fell on then weighted down the float allowing gas to continuously flow into the float bowl.

I attempted to fix the carburetor but my first two attempts were unsuccessful and the carburetor still leaked fuel. That was the last straw, I had enough of my Holley’s leaking fuel and bought another carburetor. I bought an Edelbrock 1405. I chose the Edelbrock over another Holey because I quit drag racing and now only use my Tri-five for cruising.

If you want to feel no pain and run around like a 16 year old have a fire, but I would not recommend it.

MOTION SICKNESS CURES

Drive in Movie Night

2010-10-12T17:53:00.009-05:00

Despite the Texas Rangers Baseball team playing a playoff game and other sporting events occurring in the Metroplex the Dallas Area Classic Chevy Club’s Drive in Movie Night was a great success with 20 or so cars in attendance.

For the last 11 years the Movie Night has been open to all makes, models and year of cars. This year was no exception. Of course participating were a good sampling of 55, 56 and 57 Chevys including 2 Nomads and 2 convertibles. Along with the Tri-Fives were a Rivera, Grand Prix, Camaro, 240z, early 50’s pickups and even a couple Fords just to name a few cars. It could easy to say that with all the cars rounded up and driving in a line down the highway made for an impressive sight that turned many heads.

Upon arriving at the great Texas town of Granbury the tour’s participants were welcomed by a Corvette and Mustang car shows. Both shows had great cars in attendance. During and after the show club members and guests alike paired up and explored the numerous gift and antique shops before gather at arguably the best fried chicken restaurants in the North Texas, Babes.

Satisfied with a good meal and conversations tour participants drove their cars to the drive in to line up outside before it opened to ensure a good spot once inside.

The Brazos Drive In is a survivor from days gone by. Built in the late to early sixties the drive in has changed very little since its construction. One could easily feel after driving their classic car to the theater they are in a time warp in a different, simpler time.

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DACC Fall Classic Chevy Show

2010-09-12T00:54:00.005-05:00

With summer coming to an end and the family vacations and holidays come and gone, it was time for Tri-Five Chevy car lovers to get together at Reliable Chevrolet in Richardson Texas for the DACC Fall Classic Chevy Show. Close to fifty Tri-Five Chevys, trucks and Corvettes filled the parking lot drawing hundreds of spectators to the show. Even with hurricane Herminie’s aftermath still cloaking the sky with a gray over cast the assembled Classic Chevys still shone bright in their vibrant paint.

Starting early to beat the heat the show was scheduled for 10AM to 1PM. Either to get a great parking spot or not being able to wait for the show to begin many cars showed up early. Reliable Chevrolet provided hot dogs and drinks for everyone. Club member “Dan the man Bunch” provided tunes with his sound system.

The show was a casual affair with no class winners or favorite picks. Just door prizes, fellowship and an enjoyable day were provided for the show’s participants.

The Fall Classic Chevy Show must be considered a huge success. From both the number of vehicles and the number of spectators, the show had to be one of the largest, all tri-five shows in the Dallas Fort Worth Motorplex this fall.

DACC club members will have a busy fall. Oct 2 the club will display cars at the 123rd State Fair of Texas from 9AM to 6PM at Fair Park in Dallas, Texas. Oct 9 will be DACC’s 11th Annual Drive in Movie Night, opened to all makes and years of cars. After a gathering in Arlington, Texas the assemble group of cars will caravan to the Brazos Drive In theater in Granbury, Texas. Before the movie, attendees will tour the Granbury town square prior to having dinner at Babe’s Chicken Dinner House. Oct 22- 24 will be the 17th annual Fall Foliage Tour, hosted by the Springfield Classic Chevy Club which will be a tour to Branson, Missouri.

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Sixteen Going on Forty Six

2010-07-15T00:01:00.005-05:00

I should have known better, have you ever said that? Well I have but, given the same situation, time and place, I would have still done the same thing all over again.

This story began when a friend of mine asked my wife and me over for dinner. Nothing fancy mind you, just burgers and good times. Since it was such a nice day, I had driven my classic car over to my friend’s house. I have learned that a classic car is like the Pied Piper and tonight was no exception. While we sat on my friend’s deck, enjoying a pleasant view of Lake Lewisville, a next door neighbor dropped by to visit. We were introduced. Happily, I found he is my kind of guy which in this case was a car loving flatlander from Illinois. We become old friends from the minute we were introduced.

Time passed quickly and it is time to go home. We said our goodbyes as the cool evening’s spring sun began to set over a placid Lake Lewisville. I am wound up by the excitement of good companionship and the throbbing of the motor at my disposal. As the exhaust pipes of the tri-five rumbled, I backed my old school hot rod out of the driveway.

I had an audience admiring my car while I was leaving, which is a recipe for disaster for any car guy. It is like the old joke. What are the last words of most rednecks? “Watch this!” My car is not helping me. Under the hood rumbled a powerful 383 small block, hooked to a Borg Warner 4 speed, connected to a 3:55 to 1 stock rear end, joined to the road by P265/50 R15 tires mounted on Rally wheels. I have also determined, through much practice, that tri-five Chevys are made to lay rubber because of their power to weight power ratio, along with the fact that the majority of the car’s weight is on the front wheels.

My wife, always intuitive, read my mind which had shouted, “Get on it!” Having sensed disaster, she blurted out, “Don’t do it!” But do I listen, no. Instead, I rely on my 30 years of experience of tearing things up. With a smile directed towards my audience, I rev my car up to 4 grand and pop the clutch. With much embarrassment, I found I was in third gear. The only smoke produced was from a slipping clutch. Not to be out done, I slam the Hurst shifter into first and lay caution to the wind. Then the worst thing happens when you are laying rubber, nothing except a loud bang.

I stopped the car to make the crunching sounds from the rear to stop. With no other options, I open the car door to get out with a stupid grin on my face. My wife said, “What are you 16 or 46?” Weakly, I reply, “I always did say, Make it or break it.”

After I was towed home, I had to tear into the rear end to see what was wrong with it. I undid the drive shaft, pulled the axles and took out the pumpkin. At once, I could see that the spider gears had disintegrated, wrecking every gear in the rear end. To make a long story short, I bought a rear end out of a 92, 4X4, S-10 Blazer and put it in place of the broken stock rear axle. I chose the Blazer rear end because of its low cost, being 2 inches narrower (I had outside tire rubbing problems) and it was the fastest solution to my break down.

Replacing the rear end all-in-all was not that hard of a repair. My major problem was welding the spring perches on at the correct angle. You don’t want too much or too little angle or the u-joints will not function correctly. I miscalculated the angel the first try forcing me to cut the perches off and re-weld them back on the axle tubes. I had to also buy a special u-joint and have a new drive shaft made an inch longer than the old one to make everything work.

That all goes to show if you want to play, most of the time you will have to pay.

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Close but No Cigar!

2010-05-28T19:36:00.010-05:00

We were just standing around talking the other day when I told Ben that I saw Jeff's car pull the front wheels the day before. Would you believe it, that the son of she dog had the audacity to call me a liar to my face, no less? Anyway, I went, "put your money where your mouth is. He goes, “What do you mean?” I said, "Either put up or shut up!" Ben goes, "What you say about 50 bucks?" Greg asked, “Did you take the whole bet?" Alban replied, "Dam straight, I'm no chicken. I took him on, for the full $50." Alban looked around to see disbelieving faces staring at him and said, "I had just gotten paid that day." Alban was happy to see the faces change from disbelief to looks of understanding.

Alban pressed on, "We went out to that desolate country road outside a Morton behind the Caterpillar warehouse. I had followed Jeff out in my 69 and used the CB to check for any cops. You know Don Wiley? He’s another one of Jeff's Morton friends. No? Anyway, we chose him to hold our hundred-bucks, since he was the least hated person in the group. Not only did he hold the money, he was chosen to watch and determine if Jeff indeed could pull the front wheels off the hot Illinois black top.”

Alban took a sip from his glass and continued saying, “Jeff lined her up alright. But before he gave it to her, I poured water on the tires out of a bottle we brought with us. You should've seen it. Jeff smoked the rear wheels just like Don, “The Snake.” Perdome, leaving a generous twin patch a rubber and white smoke so thick you couldn’t see through it. Jeff then backed through the smoke and stopped directly on the freshly laid rubber. Then, he must have revved the motor up to 6000 RPMs before he dropped the clutch. The motor was just screaming for mercy. It was almost unbelievable I tell ya.”

One more sip, then Alban said, “I looked in the window to see that Jeff had a smile from ear to ear. He looked at me and I smile back because we knew we were about to make the easiest 50 bucks we’ve ever made.”

A big crash took away everyone’s attention. Alban saw that Denny had knocked a lamp of an end table. After Denny sheepishly put the lap back on the table Alban said, “Anyway, Jeff was about ready to go when I saw that Don Wiley was laid out face down in the grader ditch. He was just lying their staring at Jeff's front wheels to make sure, if the wheels came off the ground or not. Jeff dropped the clutch and bam, I saw a big flash with sparks flying everywhere. Wouldn’t you know it, the God durn drive shaft came flying out from underneath the car. That thing bounced and flew 20 feet into a cornfield. We like to never found it. Would you believe it was still hot when we found it? We had to go my car to get some rags just to hold onto it to carry it back to Jeff's car.”

Alban said, “This part, I know is hard to believe but it’s true, I swear. After we had put the drive shaft in the back seat of Jeff's car we looked over at Don Wiley. He had grease all over the left side of his face. Jeff asked him, "How you get the grease on your face?" Do you know what Don said? He told us the drive shaft and hit him in the face when it flew off the car. The drive shaft hit him and other than the grease it didn’t leave a mark."

Marshall said. "That's crazy. He is one lucky son of a bitch." Greg asked, "What did your parents say about you loosing the $50?" Alban said, "They never asked. I never told them. I had to skip lunch at school for two weeks. I even had to borrow $20 from Von for gas until I got paid again."

Alban finished with, “Jeff had a log chain in his trunk. After we hooked it up to his car, we flat towed it home. Luckily, we didn’t see any of the local fuzz because you know it’s illegal to flat tow a car with a log chain.

For complete novel cut and past the link below

http://www.booksie.com/action_and_adventure/novel/alexander_arnell/dawdling-ducks

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So, I’m Mad at My Car

2010-05-09T19:36:00.010-05:00

Have you ever hated you car? Right now I’m mad at my classic Chevy. Stupid really, how can a person be mad at an inanimate object but, none the less I am. I have had the worse time with its electrical wiring. I have had wires burn up at least a half a dozen times over the last ten years. Mostly, the wire from the ignition switch to the coil is the offending culprit. It has burnt up 4 times. The first time the wire burnt up, I was laying rubber in the Tom Thumb parking lot, another was coming back from a car show in Plano, then again on the drag strip in Denton , Texas , and once more in my neighbor hood on a test drive after a front wheel bearing replacement. Each time I was able to hot wire the coil and made it home. The first couple of times I made a hot wire out of some wire I found. Now I carry a hot wire pre-made in the trunk with my tools. To fix the igniting wire problem, I made a new engine wiring harness for my Chevy so; the wires would not fall off or rub and make a short circuit. The previous owner had some weird set up that I thought was a voltage regulator but turned out to be an unnecessary relay. With extensive research of information off the internet and pouring over a wiring diagram, I made up a new harness and removed the relay.

I wrongly assumed that my problems were over until one evening driving home from Hot Texas Nights in Forth Worth, Texas I found that my tail lights didn’t work. I did a jerry rig set up with my booster starter box and made it home, thankfully. This problem was solved when I learned that a green wire from the light switch had been disconnected from the fuse box when I had put in an A/C unit. I plugged the green wire back in to the fuse box and problem solved.

What may be the straw that broke the camels back was last month. I went on a poker run with my car club. We drove a hundred or so miles and had a great time. My car ran well until I was at the last stop. When I pulled in the parking lot and turned my car off I noticed the key felt warm. Odd I though but, quickly thought nothing of the warm key.

After saying our good buys I tried to start may car and when I turned the key nothing happened. I tried the horn and it worked so, I went under the hood knowing it wasn’t the battery. I checked my first assumed culprit, the wire to the amp meter but, it looked ok. I checked the main circuit breaker by touching it. It was not hot. I wired around the breaker with no results. Next, I traced down all the wires under the hood and found none burnt or disconnected. Puzzled, I got my hot wire from the trunk hooked it up and tried to jump the starter with a screw driver with no results. Scratching my head, I pulled off the bezel on the ignition switch to unscrew its holding nut. With the ignition switch loose, I jiggled it and the wires under the dash. With my hand bleeding from my under the dash adventure, I turned the key on a hunch and low and behold, the engine turned over and ran.

Counting my blessing, I began my 40 mile journey home. I was on a 6 lane highway but drove in the slow lane the whole way home expecting the engine to die at any minute. My thoughts were that I must stay in the slow lane so if the engine were to die I would be able to get to the side of the road. I’m so lucky; I made it home without a problem. I had turned off all the accessories and the A/C which I would find out later was a good idea.

Discussed, I let my car sit for a couple of weeks. For no other known reason other than I though it was a good idea, I bought a new ignition switch on eBay. Finally, I got over my pouting and took a Saturday to work on replacing the ignition switch.

After disconnecting the negative cable from the battery, I removed the lock cylinder by pushing a wire in the small hole on the cylinder face. Pushing the wire all the way to depress the plunger, I then turned the key counterclockwise until the lock cylinder popped out. The bezel was already off from before so all I had to do was unscrew the nut. To better see the under the dash I unscrewed the deluxe heater control panel. Using the combination of looking under the dash and around the loose heater control I could see there were two wire connectors to the ignition switch that were burnt and melted.

On the back of my ignition switch were half dozen wires that hooked to the switch. There is a tan wire that ran to the coil. There was a purple wire that ran to the solenoid. Also there was a black wire that ran to the battery lug on the starter. A pinkish red wire that was melted on the switch lug that went to who knows where and a pink wire with the same problem. Looking around I also found totally burnet and free hanging white wire. In an attempt to remember how the mess went together, I drew a wire diagram and started to run down the unknown wires.

I know what you are thinking; I should just buy a new wiring harness. I will not argue that point. But even if I had the $500 for a harness I really don’t have the desire to put a new harness in my car. To be honest, putting a new harness scars me. I don’t think I could ever get it all together.

Looking over my Chevy shop manual’s wiring diagram, then visually tracing wires, I found that both the pink and pinkish red wires ran to my fuse box. The pink wire was the accessory wire to the fuse box and the pinkish red wire was the all time power source to the fuse box. Instead of reusing the wires I replaced them with new ones.

With the ignition switch hooked up but still hanging under the dash, I tested my work and the car turned over and ran. My radio worked as well as the A/C fan blower motor. I thought every thing was good until I checked the head lights to find they didn’t work. What was funny was the tail light worked but no head lights.

Back to my wire diagram I found that the pinkish red wire not only went to the fuse box it was also connected to the head light switch. I found out then remembered that the tail lights run off of the green wire hooked to the fuse box. A splice and a cut and I’m back in business until I remembered the white wire. Again back to the wire diagram. After much looking I found the wire was hooked to the generator light.

Finally, I got everything together, wired up and working correctly. But I’m still mad at my car. I really don’t trust her. I really need to spend some bucks and put in a new wire harness however; I would rather have the interior redone. Decision, decisions... what should I do? Have a car that may at any time have an electrical fire and die or replace it’s worn out ugly interior….

risk factor for heart disease

Gas All Mighty

2010-03-18T16:55:00.007-05:00

Every fall North Texas is blessed by having the annual Good Guys Rod and Custom Show held at the Texas Motor Speedway. The show is a must see for any car enthusiast. I have gone several times over the years and thoroughly enjoyed seeing over at each show 1500 rods, customs and classics, muscle cars in the infield of the Texas Motor Speedway. I also enjoyed checking out the vendors and manufacture exhibits along with the swap meet.

Back in the 2002 when I first bought my Chevy I showed my car at the show. The highlight of the event was being able to drive the Chevy three laps around the speedway.

Several years later, I decided I wanted to go to the show as a spectator. It was such a nice day; I decided to take the Chevy, even though I was not going to enter the show. The trip to the speedway was only thirty five miles. I had a half a tank of gas therefore; I decided instead of buying gas on the way, I would buy gas on the way back. If you are wondering, yes, I am more than a little paranoid about running out of gas while driving my Chevy. She only gets 10 miles to the gallon on a good day and the gas gage, while functional, has questionable accuracy. I have run out of gas when it was on an eighth of a tank. Therefore, when I am at a half a tank I wonder how much gas is really in the tank.

Being able to drive the Chevy on the trip to the speedway, in its self, was an enjoyable event. When I started I had to make a decision between two different routes to drive to the show. For fun of it, I chose going through Flower Mound, Texas driving on Farm to Market Road 1171. After you get out of the city limits of Flower Mound the road is some what of a pleasing two lane winding black top. With music blaring out the rear Jenson speakers over the roar of the dual exhausts, I am grinning ear to ear from my drive though the country in my Chevy. Mostly, I drive in the city so, getting out in the countryside at highway speeds is enjoyable. I looked at the usual sites, the ‘Tour 18’ golf course, horse farms, lakes and trees as I navigated the road. One exceptionally fun activity is driving fast over a set of rail road tracks, jumping them, along the way. Every time I jump them, I swear I am lifting all four wheels off the pavement.

When I drive my Chevy anywhere it is always an adventure. I never know what is going to break or fall off. However, my tip to the track was uneventful and pleasurable. I found a great spot in the front row of the parking lot and made my own mini car show, rolled up the windows then walked into the speedway for several hours of contentment.

Having had all I could stand, I finally called it a day and headed out of the show. I must have walked five miles at least that day. I made an effort to see every row of show cars and vendor booths. Finally at my car, I jumped into the Chevy and headed for the house. I decided to take another route home because now my gas gage is just under a quarter of a tank, the danger zone! My route to the show however enjoyable was lacking in gas stations. Consequently, I decide to take Highway 114 through Grapevine, Texas. After crossing Highway 35W a nice large gas station loomed into view. Without enough gas to get home, I pulled into the station for some go juice.

Nonchalantly, I pulled up to the pumps and inserted the pump nozzle. I pumped in about ten gallons when a red Ford screeched to a halt behind my car. A man jumped out and yelled, “Stop! I was chasing you to tell you your gas tank is falling out. I tried to tell you sooner but, I got caught at the traffic light.” Immediately, I stopped the flow of gas to step back to look under my car. Sure enough, one of the tank straps was completely off the tank and dragging on the ground. The tank was, as we say in Texas catawampus or, hanging half out at a forty five degree angle. I can not tell you what first came out of my mouth but, I will say I thanked my Good Samaritan.

I pulled the car over to the side of the station lot to survey the situation. My first thought was what happened? It must have been the rail road tracks! My second thought was I can fix it.

I crawled under the rear of the Chevy. Luckily, I have air shocks and the car is jacked up in the rear making enough room for me without jacking the car up. Lying under the car I begin to start shoving the tank back into its proper position. The tank was hard to maneuver since it had at least twelve gallons of fuel in it. If you do not know, gas weighs around 6 pounds a gallon therefore, I am pushing around seventy pounds of gas tank. Even though I am at my bench press limit, I still managed to just get the tank almost back into position when, the whole thing comes crashing out to land on my chest with a thud.

You never know how fast you can move until seventy pounds of gas tank falls on you, as it is spewing flammable liquid out of the now exposed filler neck all over you. I wiggle out from under the tank and roll out from under the car to notice that gas is pouring every where. Without thinking about the danger, I drug the tank over the concrete parking lot to prop the tank up on a curb to keep the gas from pouring out.

I then just stood there panting, and staring in a daze at the train wreck that just happened. My car sat without a gas tank, the tank was out on the pavement propped up on a six inch curb, after spilling half its contents. A major gas spill covered the pavement, luckily spreading away from the Chevy. I was soaked with gas and could not move. I did not know what to do next. I guess the rush of adrenaline of having to speed crawl out from under the car with the possibility of burning to death had used me all up.

As I stood like a statue, a guy, I would later find was from Pennsylvania, came up to me saying, “Looks like you are having a little problem.” Shaking out of my stupor, I said, “My gas tank just fell out.” My guy said, “I’m a mechanic. My dad has had several old Chevys. Working on them with him was what got me interested in being a mechanic for a living.” As I got out some tools we talked about how his wife was down in Dallas for training and he had tagged along. We lifted and strapped the tank back into place. Finished, we shook hands as I told him I could not have fixed my car without him.

To make a long story short, the tank came loose again the next day. I put new straps on to then find that the trunk deck was rusted out whereas; I had to replace much of the deck to strengthen the gas tank supports.

Having a classic car gives me faith in humanity. My old Chevy has broken down several times. Each time I have had new friends stop by to help me out of my predicament. Classic cars have that effect on people.

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Pleasure Pursuit

2010-03-05T23:06:00.002-06:00

Having something to do and something all to yourself can be very gratifying. If it takes a long time to finish, so much the better. The point of a hobby is the joy of spending time having fun, whether it is macramé or water sanding a paint job. It does not really matter what you do as long as you enjoy it and are willing to put the time into it. A hobby is supposed to be something you enjoy and look forward to spending time on. Hobbies are a good past time, a way to get your mind away from the routine life we live.

As you might guess one of my hobbies is classic Chevys. The hobby has many facets one may explore such as car shows, restoration and touring to just name a few. Really, the number of activities one could participate in is only limited to your imagination.

When I purchased my Tri-Five at the beginning of the twenty-first century, I was looking for a car to drive around in most of the year and work on the rest. I had just started a new white collar management job that, although rewarding, left me feeling that something was missing. I needed something else other than work. I needed a hobby.

After much thought, I found I had a great desire work with my hands. I needed a hobby that did not have human emotional variables as most dealings at my place of employment did every day. I just needed to turn some wrenches. And turn wrenches I did, along with sand blasting, grinding, welding, etc.

The car I purchased for a hobby had been restored many years ago. Time had made many of the mechanical parts of the car in dire need of replacement and repair. During the first years of ownership, I repaired the brakes, ball joints, steering linkage, shocks, steering box, gas tank straps, differential, floor and trunk pans, well you get the idea, all-in-all great fun.

The whole repair and restoration experience was very rewarding, informative and a great time waster. I learned a great deal about working on cars as well as about myself. Even so my interests changed several times in the last 10 years. My focus went from attending car shows, repair and restoration, drag racing, to now cruising. Luckily, I belong to a great car club, the Dallas Area Classic Chevys. The club’s events are extremely fun and have complemented what ever endeavor I have chosen for my car hobby.

I hope you are able to find a hobby activity that is fun and pleasing. You deserve it.

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Autorama Coverage

2010-02-21T22:38:00.008-06:00

There is a word in the English language that Dallas car people recognize, it’s the Autorama. Put Dallas in front of Autorama and you have a premier kicker of an indoor event. Hundreds of the best and most beautiful cars from all over North Texas and beyond poured into the Market Hall to compete for show awards and bragging rites. During the show, no mater where I went people’s faces told the story of true amazement at the quality of cars entered in the show.

During the Sunday portion of the event the weather started out with a raucous thunder storm but that did not keep car fans from getting their money’s worth with hundreds of quality customs, muscle cars, hot rods, motorcycles, lawnmowers and at least one boat. When not looking at custom transportation and dragsters, car fans had a great selection of vendor’s booths that showed the latest tools and parts for you car. In the non car line, the show had something for young and old alike. You could play Guitar hero, buy die cast or race radio controlled cars. As always, Tri-five Chevys seem to be a hot item at the show.

The Dallas Area Classic Chevy Club made a display of 8 cars. The club display showed a sampling of all three years of Tri-five Chevy’s including a Corvette, Handy Man’s Panel wagon and a full race 55. My personal favorite was (I believe these are the correct color names) a Matador Red, 4 door, 57 Chevy Belair with an India Ivory hard top. I grew up in a very similar salmon and ivory model. The clubs members we not limited to the club display. I saw at least 3 club members’ cars in solo displays.

Be sure to watch the DACC Facebook page for links to additional Autorama photos and show results.

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Things got a little messed up.

2010-02-19T18:17:00.005-06:00

Greg said, "I want you to understand that Maynard is not a friend of mine but, someone you have tolerate. You know Maynard? He had that white 67 Chevelle with a 396. Besides being a big bully, Maynard is known around town for his craziness and daring. While I was at work at the Phillips 66 gas station up on the bluff last summer, Maynard came by in his white 67. It just gotten dark and I believe he already had at least a 6 pack under his belt. I could smell been on his breath and I could see through the his car window that he that had just bought another 12 pack of PBR at the grocery store before he came to the station. Steve Adair was riding with him. I was told some time later that Steve Adair dared Maynard to drive the scenic route to try to break the record of three minute that Arnold Clark set with his Porsche 914.”

Greg asked, "You guys all know the scenic route at Detwiler park, right?" Greg waited until he looked around to check to see if everyone knew the scenic rout. After he saw everyone gesture their understanding he said, "Just below the playground, you know, there is a curve called the hairpin. It has to be the hardest corner to takeon the scenic rout because, of its flatness and 200° of turn. As you can imagine Maynard misjudged his speed to run off the road, down the hill and smashed into this giant Oak tree. The front end of Maynard’s car was smashed into a big V. The bumper was pushed clear into the engine block and the twin scooped hood looked like a pup tent. With no radiator coolant and grill pieces jamming into the engine’s fan blades obviously the car wouldn't start. Of course, Maynard knew he had to do something before the cops got there because as you know the Park police have no since of humor at all.

That is where things start to get funny. To get help, Maynard had to run all the way home. His house was at least a mile or more from the wreck. When he got home he called up his friend, I can’t remember his name, who had just bought a new semi-truck. Maynard and his friend threw a log chain in the sleeper cab then left for the park to flat tow Maynard’s car home. Luckily, the car went off not only the road but down a hill hiding it from view from any good Samaritans. So, no one called the cops.

Maynard, with his friend, pulled up to the crash site with the semi truck. They connected the chain to the front bumper of the truck then to the rear bumper of the 67. Maynard's trucker friend had just come off the road after a 30-day trip and had started to unwind himself. In other words, he was about half out of the bag.

Everything was ready to go but that's when things got a little messed up. I was told to Maynard's horror, the truck leaped forward instead of backwards off the road over the hill and smashed into the rear of the 67 folding it up like an accordion between the truck and the tree. When I closed up the gas station for the night, I saw the three of them just wandering down the highway. Since I hate Maynard's guts, I didn't stop to help. I guess they just left the wreck and decided to walk home. Because, when I was on my way to town the next morning to Sheridan Village I decided to take the scenic route myself. That's when I saw a big wrecker pulling the two totaled vehicles back on the road.

Give the Car Hobby a Hand!

2010-02-16T22:21:00.004-06:00

This weekend’s Autorama, for most practical purposes, is the kick off of the Dallas car show season. Car people love the Autorama as well as non car people. My car club the Dallas Area Classic Chevys since 1977 has had a display of quality tri-five iron at the show. Having worked the club booth, I can tell you thousands of people are interested in our cars and club. We always make plans to have a strong showing at the Autorama because it is one of our biggest recruiting tools. If I remember club folklore correctly, the club was born or at least consummated at the ‘76 Autorama. I look forward to going to the Autorama every year. In more than one way the Autorama is a great show.

But the Autorama also, in my mind, does some what of a small disservice to the hobby of classic cars. I feel after looking at all the triple chrome and billet parts combined with tricked out paint many aspiring car nuts think that if they want to get into the hobby they have to spend twenty to one hundred thousand dollars for or on a classic car to have one. You can and many people do but, you don’t have to. Now don’t get me wrong, if I had a wad of disposable cash my car would have it all but, I don’t so it doesn’t. To meet my budget, I have gone another direction.

I guess the best way to describe my direction would be a non-billet or traditional hot rodding. What is the definition of non billet traditional hot rodding you ask? Let me tell you. In my mind’s eye a traditional classic car should be have been made at the factory before 1964. Your ‘68 Camaro and ’70 Chevelle are muscle cars, sorry and a true hot rods should be pre war with the fenders taken off. And finally, the traditional classic car should have no visible billet parts or accessories.

Billet is a term that has been tossed around by many people in the car hobby however, many people are confuse about what billet actually is. I have heard fellow car guys who when responding to a question about a bolt-on accessory say, that’s not aluminum; that’s billet.” Clearly, some misunderstanding exists here.

If you go to the dictionary, you will find that billet is simply defined as a “bar of metal.” Billet parts can be made out of any type of metal. Although due to its light weight and low cost most billet parts are generally made from an alloy of aluminum.

Since most billet aluminum parts start their lives as a block of aluminum, the finished parts must be carved from these blocks. Another type of part is called die-cast. These parts are made from aluminum poured into a mold. Billet parts are more desirable than die-cast parts because, it is difficult to achieve a uniform structure when casting causing strength problems. Casted parts also has a less pleasing finish than your great looking top-quality billet parts. Sometimes cast items are dipped in chrome and called billet parts however; they are only look a-likes since the part has to be cut from a block of metal.

Now, when someone refers to a part as billet, you’ll know what they think they’re talking about.

Other examples of traditional classic cars would be no digital gauges or electronic fuel injected crate motors. A traditional classic car is one that is driven not, pulled on a trailer to events. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with the before mention activities and items. It’s just that they don’t meet my naming criteria.

What was I rambling about? Oh yea! You don’t have to spend a fortune to be in the car hobby. Some of the regular low budget cars are show favorites and besides there are many other things you can do with your car other than showing it. See the club activity calendar. So, I guess I am saying that the classic cars hobby does not have to cost you an arm and a leg. If you take your time and set realistic goals you may be able to get by with just loosing a hand off the arm.

I myself have a traditional classic car that I would describe as a driver, not a show car. Even though I have spent far less than twenty thousand dollars on my car over the years, she is still a vessel of fun and excitement. I used to like to work more on restoration projects on the car but, now I reframe from large projects because I like to have the old girl available to drive for club events. But, that’s another blog.

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Jeff's Big Race

2010-02-12T18:42:00.004-06:00

An excerpt from the book "Dawdling Ducks" By Alexander Arnell.

Complete book at :

Jeff's Big Race

Even bundled up in their coats Alban and Von shivered as they walk out of the bowling alley into the frigid early morning air. Alban looked up to the heavens and said, "Oh God! Why do you make weather like this? Von said, "Let's not bring God into this. I believe he has enough problems in the world to deal with, than to worry about our comfort." Alban replied, "I can't argue with that."

Alban stopped in the middle of his sentence when he heard the familiar roar of an approaching small block Chevy engine.

Alban said, "Is that Jeff? Yes, I believe it is Jeff." Alban saw, then waved at Jeff's primer gray 62 Chevy II as it passed by on Truitt Avenue.

Jeff blinked his headlights from high beam too low beam then back again to show that he saw Alban's wave. Slowly, Jeff eased his car into the parking lot to drive up to the waiting pair.

Even though he was only driving 10 miles an hour as Jeff pulled to a stop, both Alban and Von noticed that the car's right front wheel locked up making the front tire skid on the frozen white black top.

Alban said, "Why are you driving so slowly? Are the cops chasing you?" Jeff replied, "They might be, I just raced that Roy kid on Krause Road.

Von exclaimed, "Really, I've been told that Roy's 69 GTO is pretty fast. Was it?" Jeff looked at the pair to notice they were both almost shivering out of their shoes. Jeff opened his door and pulled up the seat and said, "Come into the warmth and I'll tell you what happened. It's frigging freezing out there. I can't even take the cold with the window open. I can't imagine just standing out there."

More than happy to oblige Alban and Von poured into the back seat of Jeff's car. Jeff pushed back his seat, slammed shut the door and rolled up his window before he turned around to face the back seat.

While Alban situated himself into the rear seat, he found he was setting on a cold cylindrical metal object. Alban lifted himself up to pull out the offending object and said, "I guess I got my Christmas goose early this year." Jeff and Von laughed at Alban's silly joke. Von asked, "What was that thing you were setting on?"

Jeff said, "That's just a brake wheel cylinder for my left front brake drum. Alban you can throw it on the floor." Von asked, "Why did you have to buy a wheel cylinder?" Jeff explained, "When I hit the brakes I have a bad pull to the left. If I'm not ready for it, the car will literally change lanes without me wanting it to if I slam on the brakes. You might have noticed the right front wheel locks up when I break the car sometimes. I believe I have bad left wheel cylinder that causes both of those problems. To fix the problem I bought another wheel cylinder at the wrecking yard tonight." Von said, "You mean last night don't you?" Jeff pause, chuckled and said, "I guess you're right, that was yesterday, it's morning already isn't it?"

Von said, "What does a wheel cylinder do?" Jeff explained, "My car like most cars is equipped with drum brakes. That means, behind the car wheel is a metal drum with two expanding brake shoes inside. When you apply braking pressure, the brake shoes expand creating friction, which stops the car. The brake cylinder is a hydraulic device that expands the brake shoes." Von asked, "How does it do that?" Jeff looked at Von to realize that Von really did not know how a brake system worked.

Jeff explained, "When you step on the break peddle you are engaging a lever that pushes on a hydraulic pump called the master cylinder. The master cylinder pushes brake fluid through tubes called brake lines that push open a cylinder, in this case called the break cylinder. The cylinder expands the brake shoes, which stops the car. Von lied when he said, "I see."

Alban butted in and said, "Okay, Mr. Jeff, auto mechanics teacher, let's let class out.

Would you please tell us what we really want to know? What about Roy Boy?"

"Alright already," said Jeff. After we left the big train wreck, I needed some gas. So, I went to the Shell station on Main Street for some premium. Roy and his brother were hanging out. Of course, you know Roy, he was setting in there talking his shit about how great MoPar is, MoPar's the greatest, Chevys suck, you know crap like that. So, I told em, if you think your sorry ass goat is so bad why don't you put your money where your mouth is. Can you believe Roy said, "I don't want a race you," because I don't want to embarrass you." Alban said, "The nerve."

Jeff continued, "So I said, that’s about right, all blow and no go! I've got 50 bucks that says I'll blow the doors off of any old orange 69 GTO that some chicken shit ass hole thinks is fast because he slapped on some headers and Cragers."

Alban said, "What did Roy Boy have to say about that?" Jeff said, "He didn't say anything, he just sat there like a bump on a log." "Really?" Jeff continued, "Roy's brother hit him and told him, "Are you going to let him get away with that?" Von asked, "What's Roy's Brother's name?" Jeff replied, "I don't know. Anyway, Roy went, "I don't have to because my car could whip that primer gray peacer any day of the week. Taking his money wouldn't prove that." Alban said, "Boy, he sure was cocky."

Jeff said, "Yeah, that's Roy all right. So, I said, "That's about right. I knew you were a wimp. Then I looked Roy’s brother right in the eye and went, I thought you raised your brother better than that. I guess you're both chicken." Von said, "You better watch out, I heard Roy's brother is a nut, he might just kick your ass."

Jeff squinted his eyes as he looked at Von and said, "I'm not afraid of him. He don't look all that tough to me. Von you need to toughen up some man. Let your nuts drop, damn!

To get back to the story Alban asked, "Did he race you are not?"

Jeff released his stare at Von to continue with the story while he lazily let his eyes gaze towards the car's light blue headliner. Jeff said, "Yea, I raced him. Roy's brother said, "I'll put up the 50 for you Roy, I want you to shut up Jeff's big Morton mouth."

Jeff continued, "Of course when you try to set up a race people come out of the woodwork. A couple guys I know that work at the station, Harold and Raymond, stepped in the filling station counter from the garage. I took my 50 out of my pocket and handed it to Harold and said, Here, Harold, you hold the money and Raymond you could start us if you want to? I also need you guys to witness me whooping Roy's sorry ass GTO."

Jeff paused as he took an out cigarette out of his pack of Red Apples and offered one to each Alban and Von. Both accepted and shared Von's Zippo to light their cigarettes. Being last to light his cigarette Alban handed the Zippo back to Von. Alban said with smoke forming his words, "Did they put up their 50." Jeff replied, "Did they have a choice?"

Jeff said, "I told them to meet me out on Krause Road. We all took different routs there so the cops wouldn't get wind of the race. And, your know what? Like I said, People come out of the woodwork. On my drive out to Krause Road, you would have thought I was leading the Home Coming Parade. When I got there, I saw at least 20 cars waiting for us. If Raymond wasn't holding my money, I would have just driven on by. With that many cars at a race man, you are just asking to get busted.

"Man, it sounds like your race was just like in the movie American Graffiti," remarked Alban.

"You know your right," thought Jeff aloud. It was just like in the final race seen of the move. Most of the cars were lined up at the starting line watching us. Someone had literally painted at red line across the black top. Roy lined up in the right lane and I was in the left lane. Raymond had a flash light and he stood about 20 feet in front of us on the centerline. About a quarter of a mile down the road two cars sat at right angles to road with their headlights crisscrossing the finish line.

I rolled up short of the line, pulled my cut out switch to open my headers up, hit the line lock and laid down a burn out like you wouldn't believe. Most people will say I'm was showing off but with it being so cold I had to get some heat in my tires to at least have some grip when I left the line. Roy did his burn out and we both rolled to the starting line."

Alban said, "Hot damn, I bet that looked cool as hell. Why didn't you tell us you were going to race? I would have loved to have seen that." Jeff replied, "How was I to know where you were? You two just run off and left Chris at the train tracks, like the police were going to show up any minute. If it hadn't been for Vinnie and me we would all been in jail tonight or should I say this morning." Jeff said with a smile. Alban said, "Why, did something happen at a train crossing, pray tell." Jeff snorted, "There you go!"

"Normally, when I have street raced in the past," Jeff continued with his story, "We would get together first for a parlay at the starting line." Jeff held up his hand before Von could ask. "A Parlay is French for a discussion to hash out the rules. But, it was just too cold for that shit. Raymond knew what to do so he just did it. When we were ready Raymond pointed to both cars, we nodded that we were ready, slowly he placed both hands around his flash light in the pit of his big fat belly they bam the light came on. I had the old duce turning 4500 turns when I popped the clutch. Man, I tell you the front end came up so high I couldn't see down the road. The hook up was wicked. You would not believe it. Anyway, I banged it in to second and looked over at Roy to find he was nowhere to be seen. I tell ya, guys I smoked him off the line. I wouldn't tell Roy this but I short shifted the rest of the way and let him catch up to about a car length behind me before I crossed the finish line."

"Far out man, that's too cool," Alban said, "Did you get the money?" Jeff replied, "Your damn right I did. I don't race for free you know." Jeff showed off his one-inch roll of currency.

Jeff stated, "I'm going to that after hours joint that the guys talked about. Why don't you two come too, I'm buying. That is unless your Mommy won't let you." Alban looked at Von to only have Von just stare back with non-commitment. Alban said, "I don't know." Jeff cried, "I knew it. I knew your two were chicken. Now get out of my car. I got to go because I have a powerful thirst for a beer."

Without a word spoken Alban and Von exited Jeff's car.

Saturated Fatty Acids

Racin' Sheridan Road

2010-01-28T21:06:00.011-06:00

An excerpt from the book "Dawdling Ducks" By Alexander Arnell.

Complete book at :

http://www.booksie.com/action_and_adventure/novel/alexander_arnell/dawdling-ducks

Alban now safely on Sheridan Road noticed a gray streak pass by his left window. With a glance to the left Alban saw and heard Jeff in his gray Chevy II blast by Alban's 69 Chevelle almost like it was sitting still. Alban shouted out, “Wooeee! Boy that Jeff is a hot rod. He only drives one way, the pedal to the metal.” Von chirped in, “Yeah, make it or break it.”

Alban said, “I bet he wants me to chase after him. But, I'm not going to drive like a jerk. I don't want to get busted and have to pay another $64 ticket. Besides, if I get one more tickets I'll lose my license for a year.” “No” Von said, “I think he's after that 75 black Trans Am up ahead.” Alban said, “You mean the one with the gold trim and Thunderbird on the hood?” “Yeah man that's the one. I was looking at it as it passed us a while back. The car had four dudes in it. I though maybe they were giving us the eye. Alban replied, “I missed that, I was too busy looking at the gold diamond wheels.

“Yep, I think your're right, Jeff is chasing after them. He probably wants race them. He always likes to put down those rich kids from Richwoods.” Said, Von.

Alban and Von watched through the front window of the 69 as Jeff sped after the black 75 Trans Am. Finally catching the car Jeff pulled up behind it shining the car with his high beams. With a burst of speed Jeff thrust his car at the Trans Am's rear bumper. Just before hitting the car in the rear, at the last minute, Jeff swung around the Trans Am to pass it on the left. After Jeff blasted past the Trans Am, he aggressively slowed his car down allowing the Trans Am to pull alongside him.

Both cars begin to speed up and slow down as they jockey back and forth down the street.

The driver of the Trans Am stuck his arm out the window gesturing, “Let's race at the next light.”

Both cars slowed as they approached a traffic light at Sheridan and Ridgepoint Drive. Alban and Von pulled up behind to hear the sound of both cars revving their engines. Through the back window of the Trans Am, they could see passengers in the car jumping up and down, whooping, and hollering.

The light changed green to the sound of both cars roaring as they leaped out across the intersection. Jeff's car still had front shock absorbers and springs left over from when it was a six cylinder. That set up made his car lift up abruptly by the front end. Alban squealed, “Did he pull the front wheels?” “No” Von said. During that same moment, the black Trans Am with a loud deep cry of its engine spun the rear tires making the driver have to peddle his throttle allowing Jeff to surge into the lead.

Gaining traction the Trans Am vainly tried to catch Jeff's primer gray 62 Chevy II. Having almost finished the length of the block the two racing cars approached a traffic light that switched from green to yellow and finally to red. Jeff slammed on his brakes not to run a red light but Trans Am driver had no qualms of possibly causing a wreck. He floored the gas and flew across the intersection with a shower of sparks in his wake.

Alban and Von pulled alongside Jeff's car while he waited for the light to turn green. Alban rolled down his window to talk to Jeff. Alban said, “You looked real good!” Jeff replied, “I sure did. I showed them rich bitches, what a real race car can do. Come on Al, let’ go?” Alban shouted back, “I don't race unless I want to lose.” Jeff laughed and popped the clutch as the light turned green to leave twin streaks of rubber and smoke across the intersection.

Having rolled up his window and driven through the intersection Alban said, “Check you later.” to Jeff's fading taillights.

Counter Stats

Candy the Dandy ’57 Chevy

2010-01-17T18:45:00.001-06:00

Candy the Dandy ’57 Chevy
By Buddy Love

As a candy apple red ’57 Chevy with yellow and orange flames pulls to a stop at an intersection invariably rationally sane people have to yell out their car windows, “Hey nice car,” or wave like they have lost their minds. Owner Alan Strong, either bragging or complaining, said, “One of the reasons I installed air conditioning was to keep from jumping out of my skin every time an exuberant admirer yells at me at a stop light. The admiration does not stop at traffic signals; several times Alan has almost been run off the road just because people wanted him to know how much they love his car. The startling display of affection is an experience certainly unique to Alan, yet maybe not unique to most classic car owners.

The ‘57’s universal appeal my have something to do with the displays of affection however the 70’s hot rod styling doesn’t hurt. The car is in some ways a survivor from another time.

Using DMV records and previous owner testimony to learn the groovy ’57’s history it was found she was built in the mid 70’s. The ’57 was hot rodded with all that was vogue during that decade except metal flake paint.

When asked Alan said, “The best I can tell the car was built as a hot rod not a restoration.” Several after market parts were added yet many every day parts were left untouched. Speed parts added were a fly wheel scatter shield with a connected Borg Warner 4 speed. The engine bay is toped with a holly 750 double pumper sitting on an aluminum high rise intake manifold. When fired up the engine has a noticeable distinct rumble from the headers and dual exhaust. The car was built years before billet and even disk brakes as horse power was thought of more than stopping power. Stock drum brakes with the original one cylinder master cylinder still has to fight the stopping battle.

To make the car trendy flashy and shinny, she was painted with candy apple red paint with wild yellow and orange flames, thus the name “Candy the Dandy ‘57”. To update the inside, a cloth interior was installed that was some what similar to the original 150’s interior scheme. This car is exactly what most guys and gals would have wanted in high school during late 70’s, down to the rally wheels. Alan commented, “I like the car the way it is so much that I am reluctant to have her repainted in spite of the rust and nicks.”

“However,” Alan said, “When I took ownership she was mechanically in pretty sad shape except for the 383 cubic inch engine.” Over the years the steering box was upgraded to a 605 power unit along with all front end bushing and ball joints. To make the old girl handle better a sway bar was added in addition to 4 new shocks. She still had a pair of 70’era leaking air shocks. Next, to be repaired or replace was all the floor and trunk sheet metal. Trying to save the embarrassment of a one wheel burn outs, Posi-traction was installed. To overcome the Texas heat and to have 12 months of cruising a Classic Auto Air conditioning was installed.

During the last 5 years Alan has been member of the Dallas Area Classic Chevy Club. Alan said, “My car is a 30-30. She looks real good at 30 feet or going by at least 30 miles per hour. So, showing my car has not been my main focus. I enjoy the club’s (DACC) dozen or so events that range from country tours to attending drive-in movies.”

Links:http://www.cardomain.com/ride/511518

Additional link:http://www.dallasclassicchevy.com/FeatureCar0509Strong.htm

article writing

The Café Du Luxe Show January 9, 2010

2010-01-10T12:47:00.000-06:00

The Café Du Luxe Show
January 9, 2010
By Buddy Love

On one of the coldest days of the year DACC members warmed up with the fun filled atmosphere at the Café Du Luxe in Denton, Texas. Café owners/Club members David and Jana Carles set up an impressive venue for DACC cars and trucks and café patrons in general.

The quaint little art cafe rocked as a musician performed Elvis and Stray Cat’s songs and employees dressed up in ’50 attire. In between applause, Club members went back and forth between mulling around an impressive array of 55, 56, and 57 autos and sipping on upscale coffees and fine wines in great company and conversation. A special treat for all was the unique ’50 specials of root beer, hotdogs and floats along with a ‘50’s horror movie projected outside, drive in movie style. Despite the Cowboys’ play off game looming later in the evening, club members made a reasonable turn out with their classic Tri-Fives.

Congratulations to all class winner winners David G, Jeff & Angela C, Greg H, and Tim P for their Best in Show awards!

And, a Happy Birthday to Dan Bunch who celebrated during the show. After Dan made the mistake of telling the group of his birthday of course an embarrassing round of “Happy Birthday to you was lead by the Rock a Billy musician was sung ending with, “You look like a monkey and you smell like one to!” For a birthday treat a bottle of chardonnay was purchased and gladly consumed by all. After sipping his wine Dan received a huge slice of dark chocolate cake that covered a whole dinner plate, drizzled with chocolate slurp and 5 forks. Truly too damp and rich a cake, but we ate it anyway.

This next member activity may seem strange. It may even be the first time this type of activity has been covered in any form of media. Even the event participants were a little hesitant at first to speak of this pleasurable experience. Nonetheless, once discussed most club member felt compelled to ventured forth to experience the unique new age, modern-styled water fall bathroom faucet in the rest rooms. The three inch wide “waterfall effect” of the bathroom’s faucet gave the bathroom a desirable edge and more natural feel to washing ones hands. Yes, we know what you are thinking; we or at least I need to get out more in the 21st century.

All-in-all, a superior event that was enjoyed by all that participated in the friendship activities and light banter. I would highly recommend that if you want to enjoy an artsy café that serves private label coffees, wonderful wines and a broad menu featuring everything from breakfast pastries and great lunch choices to heavy appetizers and decadent desserts, café Du Luxe is your place to go.

Photo link: http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=10517654&id=256676200614

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2010-01-07T17:28:00.000-06:00

Beginners Luck
By Buddy Love

For once my “Princess and the Pea” rump did not notice the protruding spring in the gray bench seat of my tri-five Chevy as I gazed down 660 feet of Texas black top. Had a camera had been focused on me at that moment it would have shown, fierce non-blinking blue eyes slightly dilated despite the bright southern sun. A tightly gripping left hand on the steering wheel twitched slightly while it rested strategically in the 12 o’clock position. My helmet clad head would have been turned slightly to the right to help me stare at a yellow light on a white Christmas tree with total concentration. No, I wasn’t high on drugs; I was high on the dream of driving in a drag race at a real drag strip and not letting anything get in my way.

Bounce back to 1970; two best friends sat on a plaid green couch watching a black and white TV. The AHRA Grand American races held at Long Beach California are on the tube. After extensive burnouts the rails of Richard Tharpe and Don Garlits square off for the win. Part way down the track Garlits’ car exploded splitting in two.* Good and bad things happened from this crash. Garlits lost part of his foot but, because of the accident he invented the rear engine dragster possibly saving countless lives and I decided I wanted to drag race.

You are most likely thinking that this story will be that I made drag racing my life’s work and now I’m racing dragsters all across the nation like Tony Schumacher or John Force but, you would be wrong. I was already crazy about cars at that point and this TV show was just another straw on the camel’s back, but not the straw. I went on in high school to own a 1969 Chevelle with a cool, in my mind, green Maaco paint job with aluminum mag wheels. However, my parents never allowed me to hot rod my car, let alone go to a drag strip. I couldn’t even sneak off to the drag races because the closest track was over a hundred miles away. To make matters worse for my racing fondness, I went to college as soon as I got out of high school never to address my racing ambitions.

Jump ahead 30 years to 2000; I have lived the middle class life, wife, job, kids, and more college, then better jobs. Drag racing or having a hot rod just does not work into the equation. But as fate would have it, another good and bad event transpired. As you know why, I received a small inheritance. Equate an infusion of cash with a mid life crisis which equals me succumbing to my car fancy. I crossed another item on my bucket list by buying a tri-five Chevy. Even with a tri-five in my possession it still took 5 years to get to the drag strip.

Some good happens for me again, the Dallas Area Classis Chevy Club after a short hiatus formed yet again. Through the internet I found the reconstructed group to become a member. One of the club’s events my first year as a member was drag racing at the Texas Motorplex in the Texas Muscle Car Challenge. I did not attend due to family oblations yet; I gorged myself looking at a photo montage and video of the event on the club’s web page. That gorging sparked a fire that was kindled 35 years ago.

My interest sparked, I started by researched how to drag race on the web. To be honest I was a little afraid I would not know the culture of the written and unwritten rules of the game. In addition to my internet studies I found that being in a club was great because I had a group of mentors who coached me when I went to the track my first time. I may have started racing on my own although, it was a whole lot easier to start with friends. Confident, I packed my tools in the trunk and headed out to the Drag strip in Denton, Texas.

April 26 and the weather man predicted that before the day would be over it will be close to 100 degrees. As I drove my tri-five Chevy up to the gate of the drag strip at 9 o’clock in the morning I could already feel the heat of the day starting as white popcorn clouds began to form in the bright blue sky. I sat sweltering in my non-air-conditioned car while a line of 20 or so cars before me pass through the gate. In front of me is a bright orange Super Bee on a trailer that confirmed I have come to the correct place for my race. After a 20 minute wait I arrived at the pay shack. While I am handed a release of liability form to sign the ticket girl asked me what class I am racing in today. She had no idea how much her simple statement meant to me, “I’m a drag racer,” I mused. After a brief pause I replied, “I’m guessing that my car will run around 10 seconds in the 1/8 mile.” After the ticket girl looked at a chart she informed me that I would be in the Street Muscle class. I paid $25 and took possession of a participant’s paper bracelet.

Holding the bracelet in my teeth, I release the clutch to move ahead. Rolling, I shifted into second gear. In the pits now, I scanned for a club mate’s white enclosed car trailer that I and a hand full of club mates had made plans to be our base camp. My club mate saw me before I saw him. As he waved me down, I waved back then let him direct me to a parking spot next his trailer. After greetings and salutations, I headed back to my car to put on my bracelet and to unpack. Stored in the tri-five I have most of my tools from my garage, a cooler of drinks and my spare tire and jack. To reduce weight for a faster ET I removed these items.

All around me, I watched different participants ready their cars. I observed guys roll their cars off of their trailers, put on slicks and tinker with their motors. The track had an old squeaky public address system but one could hardly hear the throwback 70’s music the system played over the drone of gas powered generators and the roaring car engines. I just set in my lawn chair to watch since; my car was a street car requiring no more preparation. I just planed to run what I brung.

After what seem like the longest time, I heard an echoed call over the PA for my class to go line up for tech inspection. Once I drove through the pits from my parking spot I found an ink pen in the glove box that I used to fill out my tech card while sitting on the multi lined staging area. At the time I was worried about passing tech. After all, my car was almost 50 years old. I had spent hours reading the NHRA rules for my speed class. I bought several aftermarket parts, such as a radiator over flow bottle and a double spring throttle return, to make my car fall within the rules.

A track official came to my rolled down window and said, “You have your tech card?” I handed him my filled out card. The official glanced over the front of the card before he turned it over to take look at the back for a signature. As I waited for instructions the guy said, “Usually most people just put the tech card under the windshield wiper,” I said, “OK,” as the track worker walked away. "So much for worrying about passing tech," I said aloud to myself.
As I waited, I noticed most of the racers were getting out of their cars, another case of hurry up and wait I presumed. Wanting to fit in, I got out of my car to join my fellow racers in conversation. I had several questions which the guys waiting with me were very helpful with answering.

Without warning the track officials started waving us towards the track. I see we are going to have our practice runs grouped together with the street class. As drove forward on a two lane black top to the track, I started to get ready. I pulled on my helmet, almost yanking off an ear in the process, rolled up the windows, locked my door and put on my lap seat belt.

Things are starting to go fast. Just as I finished fastening my helmet chin strap it is my turn to run the strip. As a track worker holding a push broom wearing gray bib overall shorts waved me onto the track I looked to my right to see I am racing a late model truck from the slower class. Turing back to face the track I saw the water pit. I choose to drive around the water pit so as to not let my street tires wet the track. An unwritten rule I was later to find out is universally ignored. My car does not have a limited slip differential therefore; I only have power to 1 wheel. Not out of necessity but out of tradition, and with a little embracement, I spun my tire.

Slowly, I inched my car to the staging line. Creeping, I cross an electric beam to light the first staging light. I waited until my opponent pre staged his car. With us both pre staged, I roll forward ever so slightly. The second light came on and I’m staged. Soon, we are both staged and the first of the three yellow lights on the Christmas tree shines. I am staring at the third yellow light. From my research on the net, I know I need to pop the clutch and start racing when the third yellow light comes on. If I waited for the green light before I left the line it would be too late.

Lights rolling, I rev my engine up to 2000 RPMs and number 3 shines. I pop the clutch and hit the gas. Bam, my car jumps off the line and I on my way. I know that if I floor the throttle too fast out of the hole I will spin the tire so; I peddled the throttle the first 20 feet or so before I get it floored. Hooked up, I run the engine up to 5000’s RPM’s then shift into second. I am rewarded by a chirp of the tire as I slam the gear shifter into second gear. 5000 again and I shift into third gear and then I am finished.

As I shut down I happily notice that I have won. I have beaten someone’s truck that they used to tow their real race car to the track.

While I think, “A win’s a win,” I coast around to my parking space. One of my club mates hand me a timing slip. I check it out and I almost jump for joy because I had made a 9.2 second run, only to find out that I had someone else’s slip. After some shuffling of timing slips, I found my slip to learn I didn’t quit run that good.

Each racer got two time trial races before the elimination began. The second time trial I was only able to consternate on the mechanics of the race. That absorption made me not notice who I was racing. I had to look at my timing slip to see what happened. The slip told me I beat my opponent by a tenth of a second even after he red lighted.

After a brief engine cool down period and a lunch break of a greasy hamburger and soggy fries with a diet coke, the track officials called the first elimination bracket of my racing class. I drove through the pits to the staging lanes to line up in lane 3 behind a purple 2005 GTO. Lined up next to me is my opponent, a mid 70’s Trans Am. He has dialed in a faster time than me by 2 tenths of a second.

We move forward towards the strip and I get ready. I take the left lane and drive around the water. I do not do a burn out because now I am obsessed that heating up the tire may give me too much traction that could make my 7.5 inch 10 bold rear end break, thus not allowing me to drive home. Pre staged I wait for my opponent. When I stage, I try just too barely turn on the second staging light. There is a 6 inch space between the pre stage line and the starting line. I try to give myself plenty of space behind the starting line. I do so because, I don’t have a line lock and I am afraid I might roll over the line and red light.

Yellow, Yellow, Yellow go, my car screamed in first gear. Already, I am 2 car lengths behind. I power shift into second then third. I stayed two car lengths behind never able to catch the Trans Am. Sad that I lost, I drove back to the pits thinking my day was over. As I make a turn into my parking spot I notice that my club mates seem very happy. “Too happy,” I think, “for a loss.” Rolling down my window they start slapping me on the back yelling, “You won! He red lighted.” I realized that the reason that the Trans Am beat me out of the hole was that he just could not wait for the green. I’m a winner of my first elimination race!

The next elimination, I drew the purple GTO. She has dialed in a couple of tenths faster than I am for this race. The green light flashed and I’m briefly in the lead when I break traction that allowed the GTO to pull ahead of me by a car length. I go through the gears and start to draw my bumper even with her car door. I think I can pass her but she is sand bagging me by flooring it for the win, or so I think. Joy, rapture, the GTO has broken out. I made her drive a tenth under her dial in. Again, I am the winner of the drag race.

My next win was the easiest of all races, a bye run. Since there was not an even number of cars the officials gave me the bye. To determine who got the bye was made by using a deck of cards. I really to this day do not know how they determined how I was the winner but, when they said I won, I said, “OK.”

I had a theory about bracket racing when I started. My theory was to try not to beat myself. I did not force my starts so, that I will not red light. I chose a dial in time that was faster than my best time trial so, I don’t break out. Later, as I moved up into a more spirited class I had to become less cautious to stay competitive, but this is what I was doing at the time. But, in the last race of the day, I made a decision that went against my careful approach. I was running 2 tenths slower now with the 98 degree heat of the afternoon. With that fact in mind, I decided to change my dial in time to a 9.90. A smart choice I was soon to find out.

The final elimination was soon upon me. I lined up in the right lane against a red 1980 Corvette. Studying my competition, I learn that a middle aged man had his teenage son driving the Corvette in the race. By reading the Corvette’s ET on its window I saw I am running almost 3 tenths faster. Subsequently, I realized he will get the green light before I will get mine. I mull over that I must really concentrate on only my side of the tree. I must remember that the Corvette will leave before I will to start my run. I can not let this make me false start and red light. Staged, the lights turn yellow then green and first he, and then I take off. I cut a good light, hit the gas hard and as luck would have it the tire hooked up. Even so, the Corvette is still a car and a half length in front of me due to the staggered tree. Chasing after the Corvette, I long shifted to 5200 rpm’s then hit second gear. Shifting hard into third, I pulled up nose to nose with the Corvette to finally past for the win in the last 10 feet.

I do not celebrate until I find if I have a clean run. Holding my breath, I walked with butterflies in my stomach up to the timing tower. Waiting for me are my club mates. I can’t tell from the way they are looking at me if I’m a winner or a looser. “Well,” I said? They burst out, “You won…you won your first eliminator!”

My final elimination was not my best reaction time or the best ET however; I ran within a ½ a tenth of my dial in time. My best dial of the day.
While I was being slapped on the back and got my hand shook I said, “Is this a great sport or what?”

I would race for another 3 years becoming top eliminator twice more. Finally, life would again intervene and I retired from racing still, that day in April was best of every 12 year old boy’s dream.

*This race may or may not been on TV that day but, this is the way I wish to remember the story. The car I saw explode that day could have been just another rail blowing in two for all I know. I searched the net but could not confirm or deny my memory claim.

october holiday

2010-01-01T20:19:00.000-06:00

The Annual New Years Day Car Show at the Dairyette
By Buddy Love

Every year a new car show circuit begins and this year’s began with a bang in Dallas, Texas. The Concrete Lizards put together a show at the Dairyette which drew a killer crowd, amazing cars and bikes. An old time 50’s drive-in, the Dairyette is located at the corner of Ferguson Road and Oates Drive in East Dallas. The Dairyette was packed with the show’s turn out of around 200 cars and bikes overflowing into a business next door and a church parking lot across the street. Although the show was packed with cars there was plenty of parking for all participants.

Talking to entrants and taking multiple pictures, spectators were not disappointed by the diversity of cars at the show as they strolled around the grounds. A rat rod could be parked right next to a traditional hot rod making a great show and insuring there was something for everyone.

However, this show wasn’t just about cars and bikes. The show was dedicated to Mr. Crawford a long time hot rodder and some may say the greatest old school pin striper in Dallas. Organizers, entrants and spectators alike were ecstatic when they found out $6,000 was raised during the show to help with Mr.Crawford’s medical condition.

As the DJ played tunes, event participants mingled around the silent auction tables. The Auction had everything a rodder would have wanted that he or she didn’t get for Christmas; again all proceedes went to Mr. Crawford.

This show is a great example that there are good people in the world. The outpouring of affection and good will for Mr. Crawford as he made an appearance caused many a rodder to become a little misty eyed. Even the winner of the 50/50 pot donated his winnings to Mr. Crawford.

New Years Day 2010 turned out to be a rodder and bikers delight. I would highly recommend that next year you attend the Annual New Years Day Car Show at the Dairyette.

For event photos go to:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Dallas-Classic-Chevys/319950430057?ref=ts#/album.php?aid=361031&id=319950430057&ref=mf

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Ramp Builder

2009-12-31T23:42:00.000-06:00

By Buddy Love

Against my night owl nature, I pulled myself out of bed early on a cold Saturday, December morning to participate in the Dallas Area Classic Chevy Club’s ramp building project. I look forward to this club project each year because it has special meaning for me. My father needed a similar inclined plane to be able to exit his home. I understand how liberating a simple wooden structure can be for a person with limited mobility.

The weather outside was a gray foggy overcast as I drove up to the storage area where Dallas Ramps keeps it’s supplies and equipment. Finding a good place to park, I pull my truck in between two of a dozen or so of volunteers’ cars parked together on a gray gravel lot. DACC was just one group of several that had gotten together today to donate their time to work as a ramp crews.

As soon as my fellow club members and I gather we were split up into two different crews, one of three and other one of two members. We tried our best not to make the crew assignments seem like a sand lot baseball game choosing sides.

Now in crews we saw that the ramp parts were laid out in the warehouse for us to collect for our ramp build. My group’s project is a straight, rather non-complicated, sixteen foot ramp. The other club members joined a crew that took supplies for a 30 foot ramp with a 90° turn requiring seven members. Making things easier for today’s work crews Dallas Ramps had another group of volunteers prepare the wood for the ramp build during the week so building crews would only have to assemble the semi-pre-cut and fabricate pieces at the building site. It was very amazing to me how organized our group leader was as he loaded his equipment and ramp supplies. He has been a group leader for Dallas Ramps for years and it showed. He is also a DACC club member. Taking the required parts we got the truck loaded and are ready to leave for the work site.

Off we went all loaded up with all our supplies. The sun was still hiding behind a gray mist that saturated the air as my work crew caravanned past the Dallas sky line to the job site.

At the work site, I jumped out of the truck to follow my crew leader to the front door of the white clapboard home where we planned to build our ramp. The owner was expecting us. When I built my first ramp several years ago, I worried if I would know what to do during the build. I didn’t need to worry since the build from beginning to end is so well thought-out that not knowing what to do is not a problem for volunteers. I have some carpentry experience, though helpful, it is really not required at a ramp build. If all else fails to make yourself useful you could carry the supplies and help with screwing the screws that hold the ramp together.

Now ready to start, we began to put the giant jig saw puzzle together. The crew leader does the majority of the thinking while giving plenty of instructions to us worker bees. The building goes like clock work. To start we put the pre-fabricated floor structure in place. Satisfied, we jacked them up with peers making a gradual slope. Once the structure was in place plywood decking is screwed on top. Next a guard rail was constructed and finally the hand rail was installed.

As we stood back and admired our now completed ramp a light rain fell, perfect timing for an ending. Quickly to get out of the rain, we clean up our mess and put away the crew chief’s tools.
Another Dallas ramp supervisor stopped at our job site to see if we needed help and to take pictures of our accomplishment.

Our achievement seemed even sweeter because, Dallas ramps is 100% volunteer staffed and only relies on individual donations and corporate partners to provide the funding, building materials, and facilities for their ramp builds. Every cent donated is used for ramp materials.

While riding in my truck back to my home there was a break in the weather. As a lone sun beam shown briefly through the clouds, I felt a welling of satisfaction in my chest from being a part of a group of individuals that help liberate people that are trapped in their homes, unable to get out because of the front steps that most of us take for granted.

For a full photo montoge see: http://www.dallasclassicchevy.com/

Junk in the Trunk

2009-12-30T17:55:00.000-06:00

What started as a project to stop hot air from blowing up the backs of back seat passengers turn in to a "Hole Lotta Fun"

Because of the heat of the Texas summer there is only a short window of when I like to work on my car. I plan my projects to start in October and hopefully get them done before March. The remainder of the year can be a very hot working environment.

The project I chose for this winter's project season was the messed up trunk sheet metal and ugly over built shock mount. Being on a budget this project was attractive for me due to the fact that felt I could choose to not have to buy fabricated sheet metal parts. The plan was to sand blast, use scrap sheet metal, left over paint and some elbow grease. Luckily, I had sand blasted the under carriage of that area of the trunk after my gas tank bands broke and my gas tank fell out, so I wouldn’t have paint that part.

I am no engineer but, I don't know what Chevrolet was thinking when they designed the shock top mounts as part of the sheet metal floor pan of the trunk. I have been told that rust damaged many a Tri-Five shock mount long before the cars were classics. I am guessing that on my car the mounts rusted out some time in the past and broke through the floor because that area showed evidence of severe damaged. Further investigation told me that the previous owner had made a new shock mount, screwed a plate of aluminum sheet metal over a big rust hole, and then covered the gaps and remaining holes and cracks with silicone to fix the shock problem. Besides a sloppy job the guy must have been into over kill because he welded and re welded then bolted a ¼ inch thick metal channel beam for the shock mount that weighed at least 50 pounds. I do have admit at the time of the retro fit guys were running air shocks to jack up the rear of there cars and those shocks put a great deal of stress on the shock mount, but this mount was ridiculous. It was also inside the trunk taking up too much space. I wanted one underneath the deck.

Cutting out the old Channel beam shock support made some big holes in the wheel wells that had to be repaired with welded inserts. Where the foot square rotten hole had been I fabricated a new floor pan insert that replaced the diamond plated aluminum that was just put on with rivets by the previous owner.

My restoration journey started with sand blasting the trunk floor pan area. The old paint and rust was removed easily with the sand blaster but to remove the silicone I had to use a screw driver to dig and scrape it out. Now with the metal bare I found there had been more sever damage to the back part of the trunk and floor pan area that I anticipated. The whole area had several cracks and large sections missing giving little or no support to that part of the car's chassis. With out any other choice, I had to cut out the whole axle hump along with the remaining cracked or bent trunk deck.

For sheet metal I cannibalized a roof from a car from work bending the metal to remake the hump. The center part of the old hump was still usable, although it had bunch of holes drilled in it for some reason. If it didn't have strengthening groves in it I would have scraped it also but felt I couldn't reproduce the groves and make them look right. Once the hump was fabricated I welded it back on the trunk deck.

For a shock mount I decided to make my own. I wish I had made the mount and welded it in before I welded the hump in the truck. With the hump in place made the installation much harder. I had to lay on my back and make a vertical up weld. My welding turned out functional but not very pleasing to the eye.

Remember the whole in the center of the hump? To fix the 20 or so 1/8 inch holes I welded them up. The metal was very thin and many time I burnt a new larger hole. One time while admiring my work I notice out the corner of my eye a flickering. Oh my God my car is on fire. As fait would have it I had several jugs of water in the garage I remembered I had and was able to put out the fire. Another welding experience was during the vertical up welding experience. After making a bead I lay on the floor checking out the weld when I smelt something burning, it only took me a few seconds to realize I was on fire! Stuffed in under the car it usually took me several minutes to crawl out but not that time. I was out in 5 seconds pounding on my chest to put out the fire on my chest.

The shocks fit in place and all the holes and cracks fixed I borrowed a paint gun and painted.

Would it have been easier to buy a new trunk deck and put it in the car? I guess I will never know.