Brian Lohnes Interview

Here's another one of those people who seemingly pops up in every magazine I crack open. Brian has a gift for placing himself wherever the action is and quickly verifying what the real story is. We've never met, but when I was 'virtually' introduced to Brian (via Chad Reynolds at BangShift), I found him to be honest, open and direct. Just my kind of guy and perfect for an interview!

We decided to play this one in real time, like two strangers meeting in the pits at a race somewhere. Brian was actually kicked back with his feet on his designer desk in his sumptuous BangShift office, high above the grit and din of Boston. I was here in the bunker. This was good practice for our inevitable junction at some future event. When that happens, I'll have enough insight into his psyche to ask the questions I probably should've asked here.

Hey Brian - Good to finally meet you! First things first - Is your last name pronounced 'Lowknees', or 'Lowness'?

It's pronounced 'Loans'.

Ah, thanks. So, what are you doing here? I mean, what brought you to this point in your life? Did you come from an automotive or journalistic background, or what?


So my spacecraft crashed into Earth and....
I often ask myself how the heck I got to this point, but it really is the same way most guys have, by working hard and taking advantage of any breaks or opportunities that have presented themselves. I went to college and got a Journalism degree. I graduated and started driving a water truck because I had gotten a CDL from working as a student mechanic at the campus bus garage at UMass. Having been offered some local newspaper jobs for lower pay than I was making at the bus garage, I decided to just get a job and focus all my free time on getting an automotive media career going.

During college, I started doing something that I still do today, announcing auto races. I started doing SCCA road races in New England and eventually got the balls to call Lebanon Valley Dragway in New York and ask the track manager (then a guy named Glenn Grow) to be their weekend announcer. I did Saturday test and tune days and whatever else they needed me for. I really loved it and started announcing at Lebanon and New England Dragway in Epping, NH. Working the strips in New England eventually got me recognized by the International Hot Rod Association and I have worked as a national event drag racing announcer for them since 2006. I used to pull a lot heavier announcing schedule, but with my little guys around now, I only do a couple races a year with them. I REALLY love announcing the drags.

Yeah, I'm finding that to be a really common denominator amongst automotive journalists - just as comfy with a mic as a keyboard.

Well, jumping back a bit before the announcing stuff started, my first piece of published automotive writing was run on a now defunct website called Nitronic Research - some weirdo Coonce guy started that deal. My piece was a story about Pro Mods and it was my first big break. I went to a race in Virginia to write the story and while there I met Bobby Bennett of CompetitionPlus.com. I ended up working for Bobby in one capacity or another for a couple years and actually worked for him full time writing drag race stories and working PR for a Pro Mod team in 2005. I ended up having to go back to "real work" to pay the bills, but the time with Comp Plus introduced me to many people in drag racing, the aftermarket, and in the magazine industry. It was from those connections that I began writing freelance for magazines like Hot Rod, Drag Race Action, Diesel Power, and others.

For the unabridged version, buy me a beer. I'll keep you entertained for hours with stories ranging from weird to totally sublime. I like to think I made a lot of my own luck by working hard and getting myself to the places I needed to be. For anyone out there that is wanting to do this stuff, the best advice I can give them is to be too stupid to quit. Work harder than anyone else and eventually you'll get there.

Back in the day, I'd often leave work on a Friday, haul ass all night to a drag strip, spend the weekend shooting photos and sleeping in my truck, only to get home with enough time to shower and drag myself back into the office. I still do the same thing a lot now, but having saved a couple of bucks, I at least sleep in a budget motel. I still hold a job in the real world and BangShift gets produced at night, on weekends, and whenever I can jam on it during my "free" time. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

You stay in motels?! That must be awesome! Otherwise, you just described my lifestyle, too: It sucks and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But you can't just dangle 'weird to totally sublime stories' out there without following up! I've heard of those Coonce and Bennet characters - if that's the kind of company you keep, you must have some tall tails! Do tell...

As far as the weird and wild stuff, there's been a bunch of that, but
certainly not at the level of guys who have been doing this announcing and
reporting stuff for decades!

The weirdest event I ever did was an IHRA national event in San Antonio,
Texas back in 2007. The track operator at the time had the track laser
ground to true up the racing surface. This is a procedure where a
machine slowly, and I mean slooowly, creeps down the track with some
large spinning discs in front of it. The thing looks like a floor
polisher on steroids. Anyway, it'll remove some asphalt or concrete and
ensure that the track is perfectly level. This is important for cars
like Top Fuelers that have no suspension, and even slight variations in
the track can cause them to strike the tires.
Anyway, they grind the track, but no one really bothered to find out how
thick the asphalt layer was before they did this. Looking at it on
Friday with my announcing partner, the legendary Steve LeTempt,
everything appeared OK. Boy were we wrong!
Sportsman racing went fine during the day, but the shit hit the fan on
Friday night when Top Fuel qualifying happened. Bobby Lagana was
powering down the right lane when the car spun the tires hard, pitched
sideways and coasted to the end of the course. There was immediate
screaming on the radio to stop the race!
The asphalt was tissue paper thin and the 8,000hp dragster, making all
that down force with its huge rear wing, literally turned the track into
a gravel road. The race track was 100% FUBAR, and so we thought the
weekend was too.
I did the sensible thing and got drunker than hell with a bunch of the
racers, assuming that there was a zero percent chance I'd be doing
anything other than flying home the next day. Well, even my hangover
addled vision could see the heavy equipment on the track when me and
LeTempt arrived on Saturday morning.  They had repaved about 2,000ft
of the track overnight!
We ran the rest of the race as an eighth mile contest, all professional
categories included! So that makes me one of the only guys since 1974
(the last time the IHRA had an eighth mile event with fuel cars) to
announce a national event with nitro on the eighth mile! George Howard
had an event a few years ago that drew nitro cars on the eighth mile but
that was not a sanctioned national event. It was a ballsy decision to
repave the track, lots of the racers were freaking out, but the whole
thing came off pretty well!

I once announced a race where we were not allowed to announce the real
name of one of the "main performers" because this gentleman was playing
a bit of cat and mouse with the feds who wanted a LOT of tax money. I
assume that he was burning that tax money as nitro.

I announced an SCCA road race one time where a wreck on the pace lap
wiped out the majority of the field. That was a tough one to announce
and not start screaming, "What the F was THAT?!"

Back when IHRA operated with a 3-4 man announcing crew, I was often the
top end announcer. I'd be down at the end of the track, waiting on the
return road for the racers to pull off and get them on the PA. That's
also where the TV people were. There were some great driver
confrontations, burning race cars, and even one good scrum involving a
crew chief and the IHRA's television "face" at the time! None of that
made it to the small screen.

Oh man, classic stuff! So, this begs the question: Do you think speaking into a PA system has influenced how you write? I mean: Once you've felt the rush of thinking on your feet as the action is happening, then instantly transforming those thoughts into useful information and transferring it to thousands of fans who just experienced the same thing you did - that's a major challenge that can only be accomplished with mass quantities of
adrenaline, right? That's part of your background now. Doesn't it inform
how you communicate in all avenues? Or is it completely different,
sitting at a keyboard?

 I think it has influenced how I write to some degree, but honestly,
writing a lot has made me a better announcer. I read so much stuff and
get so many e-mails and notes from people for blog items, it really
keeps me up on the latest stuff that is going on. Some of the
connections I have made through the blog come in really handy when I am
preparing for a race.

The adrenaline thing is a little different for me, I think. I don't get
all pumped up, walking out in front of the crowd to do a pre-race
ceremony or driver introductions. Don't get me wrong, I'm still excited
and ready to whip the crowd into a frenzy, but it is the actual
competition that sends me into orbit. Seeing two guys in Nostalgia Nitro
Funny Cars run side by side and finish two hun' apart at the finish
really gets me going. You can really take moments like that and get the
crowd so cranked up that they are about ready to pull the grandstands down.

Drag races are unique to all other motorsports events because of the ebb
and flow of the excitement and action. You have several cycles of
competition for all the classes, so you really need to be a different
person stylistically when you are working through Super Comp than you do
when Top Fuel rolls out. You have to be respectful and engaged the whole
weekend, but you need to find that next gear, both mentally and
emotionally, when the heavy guns come out.

I think I can channel the same type of emotions, occasionally, through
the keyboard. Like recently, Mopar sent out a press release that one of
the V10 powered drag pack cars had set a record in Stock eliminator. My
opinion is that those cars are not legit stockers, so after reading it,
I wrote an item that had the title, "Frankenstein Bastard Car sets NHRA
Record". Chad called me and said, "Hey, I love that, but..." He was
right, it was over the top, so he edited the title. The point of that,
is at the drags you see and react, split second - and it is honest. The
same thing happened when I wrote that item - I saw and reacted.

My goals, ever since I started announcing races was to be honest,
brutally at times, as well as to educate and entertain people. I think
the same goes for BangShift.


Speaking of which, how much time do you spend working on BangShift?
The word on the street is, you've fallen apart since the site took off -
really let yourself go. Is it true that you only sleep every third night
and only wear a bathrobe? My sources tell me you haven't brushed your
teeth or trimmed your nails in five years. Is that really what it takes
to keep this machine oiled, or do you just prefer the casual look?

Hey, remember: Prior to BangShift, I was a freelancer (while keeping my real job) for magazines like Hot Rod, Drag Racing Action, Hot Rod Deluxe, Diesel Power, Drag Review, etc. So I've been doing the deadline thrash for many years now.

Becuase I still hold a full time job in the "real world" of American big
business, I write BangShift at night...usually damned late at night.
Typically I work on the site for 5-6 hours a night, starting between
8:30 and 10pm. There's been more than a few nights that I have simply
taken a shower and gone straight to work without any sleep, especially
after spending hours writing a big feature story or something.
Ironically, I can't stand coffee.

I've definitely packed on some tonnage since this thing got rolling and
started making hay, which I am working on knocking off now. I'm married
to an awesome woman who wouldn't allow a total Howard Hughes situation,
so my personal grooming is still up to the standards of a semi-civilized
world.

Oh, on the teeth: My parents sprang for braces when I was a kid. If I
let the chicklets go south, my dad would probably knock 'em out!

Hey, the keyboard lifestyle is catching up with me in the same way. Thank God for a hyper dog who needs walked twice a day, minimum, and a beater daily driver that keeps me scrambling. Speaking of which, I'm deeply in love with your truck (saw it on BangShift) and it made me wonder what else you're working on. Is there a particular car that you're known for? What's your daily driver? Are you a hands-on builder type? And what would you LIKE to be building/driving?

Hands on? Hell yes. I do everything I can (and some things I probably 
shouldn't). I will say that I know when something is out of my league 
and I'll send it to a shop, like the floors on my project truck Goliath. 
The cab was total junk and needed every piece of sheet metal below the 
belt line replaced. I had a local chassis shop who's operator is a 
friend of mine do the work, because it would have taken me months and 
probably come out horrible.

Cars I am known for? Probably two at this point, one of which actually 
functions. There's Goliath, the 1966 C50 that I have been documenting on 
the site and Attilla the Jav, a AMC Javelin that David Freiburger gave 
to me and BangShift members relayed across the country, trailer to 
trailer, from LA to Erie, PA where I picked it up. It was an old dirt 
track stock car and it needs LOTS of work.

Goliath is cool because I was tipped off to the truck by a BS member who 
lives in Maine and saw it for sale. I saw it and had to own it, but it 
took me about 5 months to actually buy the thing. I've been wrenching on 
it since I got it and have done the brakes, replaced all the rings and a 
piston, gone through the steering, and on and on, as well as having had 
the cab floor replaced. The truck is freaking massive and slow and 
awesome. It still needs some work, but I drove it to a car show about 50 
miles one way last weekend so the good news is that it didn't blow up 
and one of my goals for the truck was reached. Like I said though, it's 
not done. Just pretty damned close.

My daily driver is a 2008 F-250 truck, that has been used and abused in 
untold ways, like all trucks should be.

What do I want to be building/driving? Obviously the Javelin is 
something that I eventually need to get my ass moving on, but I'm 
currently hung up on the idea of owning and driving something with a 
Roots blown Nailhead in it.

I've been amassing parts to build a pretty stout 360ci AMC engine for 
the Javelin, so that heap will be the next thing that I really get 
cracking on. It'll be a racer type deal, not a street car, as the 
starting point is essentially a rolling caged shell, and the cage part 
is fairly suspect.

Wow! I somehow missed the Javelin. I have a soft spot in my head for AMC products anyway, but being a retired racer sure gives it bonus hero points with me. So, if you were a car, what kind would you be?

Let's say a 1968 Chevy Biscayne with the COPO ordered high performance
427 and an M22 Rockcrusher behind it. A little beefy around the
waistline, a car not everyone knew about, and a machine that would
absolutely deliver the goods against far better known competition when
the green light came on.

Ha! That's so perfect: Brian the sleeper! Bonus question: Where would you like to see yourself in 20 years?

Man, that's one hell of a long time. I'd like to see myself on a Friday
night during the summer, with both of my boys (they're 2 and 4 now) over
at the garage with me, maybe tipping a beer or two with my wife Kerri
smiling beside me. Nothing else really matters much in the grand scheme
of things. I'd love to have 23 years in at BangShift at that point, with
a bunch of great people working for us and doing cool stuff each day.
Twenty years...jeez man, I'm only 31 now as it is. Let's not rush it! HA!

Okay, sorry man. Any last words?

Yeah. I need to thank my wife, Kerri. We've been together since we were 15
years old - about half our lives now. She has been there to see me at my
best and worst. She's seen potential opportunities come my way, some
good, some bad. She's a guiding force in my life and someone who keeps
me bolted to the ground. She also believes in BangShift just as much as
Chad and I do and without her support, understanding, and love, I'd be
personally and professionally sunk.

I need to personally thank everyone who reads the site, be it daily,
weekly, monthly, whatever. It honestly means a lot. We're advancing this
thing every day and it has really been something to watch it grow and
work with Chad to shepherd it along. The companies we have supporting
us, believing in us and helping us, 'get it'. More companies are getting
it and we're working on some larger scale stuff for the future that
could potentially take us to the next level. Both Chad and I are too
dumb to quit - a trait that has served us both well at different times in
our lives and it is certainly working for us now.

Hey, you guys have several things working for you and number one seems to be integrity.  So I'm honored that you took the time for this. It's been a real pleasure Brian - thanks again.

You're honored? Holy crap man, I'm honored! I'm a zero and you are
making me feel like big stuff! I owe you a beer (or soda depending on
your taste!)

Coffee for me, please: Two creams, two sugars.

Okay, is he gone now? Just for the record, Brian Lohnes is big stuff.

Dave Wallace Jr. Interview Pt. II

Uh, where were we, Scotty?

When we left off, you were turning 18 years old. This has been a long break! But you were about to make the transition from drag reporter to drag racer, via a chance encounter with Ralph Guldahl Jr. at Brownie's Snack Bar.

Oh, yeah:  my premature retirement, at the ripe ol' age of 18.  I'd dropped out of high school in my final semester to (A) take a fulltime job in a machine shop, and (B) move into an apartment one block off of Van Nuys Boulevard, and (C) buy a '65 Formula S Barracuda from a local racer -- BIG missteak (the car, i.e.).  It might've been the quickest and fastest small-block Mopar that regularly ran 'Fernando.  If memory serves, Ron Neidorf was deep into the 13s at about 110 mph by the time the "For Sale" sign appeared in the biggest rear window ever installed in a production car.  The good news:  He was asking only $1500 for a two-year-old car with an Art Carr manual TorqueFlite, big Isky cam, Exhaust Engineering's prototype set of fenderwell headers, etc.  The bad news:  Ron planned to pull the 4.-something rearend and the eight-barrel intake in favor of the stock gears (3.08:1?) and single carb. 

I agreed, not knowing how incompatible that nasty, solid cam would prove to be with the rest of the combination.  The car still SOUNDED like a 13-second machine (damn quick for the street, for that time), but it couldn't quite crack the 14s, no matter what I tried.  Worse, after giving up my San Fernando job to race on Sundays, I broke the output shaft driving to work one day.  Lacking the dough for a pricey Art Carr rebuild, I settled for a stock TorqueFlite, "just until I save up some money" -- which never happened.  Now I had the wrong converter to go with my wrong camshaft, slowing e.t.s from 15.0s to 15.50s.  My racing career was over, and so was my writing career, it seemed.  I was too proud to beg Harry Hibler to get the job back, and too embarrassed to show my face at the track.

Luckily, my sister, Debbie, was working the counter of Brownie's Snack Bar the Sunday in late '68 when Ralph Guldahl Jr., fulltime Lions publicity guy, showed up and asked how he could get in touch.  Ralph was and remains the best drag-race reporter ever, in my humble opinion.  He called the house and asked whether I'd be interested in covering the Sunday bracket-racing program, while he continued doing Saturday night's feature shows.  I jumped at the chance to get back in the game, especially at such a prestigious track.  I can't say that my skill level was of Lions caliber, but the only people reading Sunday's stories were the racers themselves, and I always made Monday's deadlines at the various drag rags, so nobody seemed to notice that I wasn't ready for prime time. 

                                    Stylin' at 19 with Paula Burns. 1969

That changed in a big hurry when Guldahl got fired by C.J. Hart, who asked me to cover Saturday's weekly pro shows.  Again, I quickly agreed, even though I'd be commuting 40 miles each way not once, but twice, every weekend.  I'd just taken delivery of a new '69 Road Runner, gas was cheap, and 19-year-olds don't need to sleep, right?  Following "Digger Ralph"'s act was impossible, of course, but I knew that Lions had been a springboard to Petersen Publishing Company for other scribes and photographers, and hoped to do the same, someday.

Draftee on Christmas Day 1969, Saigon. Guarding perimeter for Bob Hope's show.

With fellow MPs in Vietnam, 1970. "The closest I'd get to a woman in 14 months and 7 days"

In a roundabout way, that's exactly what happened -- but not before Uncle Sam got done with Specialist Four Wallace, draftee.  I worked my last race, an all-motorcycle event, the Sunday before my July 8, 1969, induction.  After extending my tour of Vietnam to 435 days to earn a five-month "early out," I got my old Lions gig back, briefly; within weeks of that Feb. 1971 return, Hart got into a big hassle with the Lions Clubs Board Of Directors.  When he suddenly quit, so did several family members.  Most of the other staffers also expressed intentions to leave, in support.  However, as Bob Dylan wrote, the others who promised to stand behind C.J. when the going got rough changed their minds, unbeknownst to the Harts and me.  Nevertheless, I'd grown weary of spending every minute of my weekends either at the track or commuting or writing race reports. 

I'd also gained enough confidence to send samples of these stories to magazine editors.  When Don Evans bit on my pitch to cover OCIR's Hang Ten Funny Car 500 on Memorial Day (see Aug. '71 HRM), I began an off-and-on freelance career with then-Petersen magazines that continues to this day, 40 years later (as occasional HRM contributor and contract editor of Hot Rod Deluxe).  Whew!  Are we done yet, Scotty?  Are any of your readers still awake?

Dave, the SGE readers may be the only humans that can function on less sleep than you! Frankly, they scare me. But on their behalf, we're all glad you survived Vietnam... So, your writing conveys a pretty deep passion for drag racing. If that isn't genuine, you're the world's most convincing writer! Did that passion bring you to this point and is it still alive?

Yes and no:  I'm still passionate about quarter-mile drag racing of all kinds, but not modern fuel racing.  There were times, during my stints as Drag News editor (1975-77) and Hot Rod feature editor (1977-80) and Petersen's Drag Racing editor (1984-88), when I covered every day of every NHRA national event.  I don't even go, anymore.  My last one was the 2010 Winternationals, but I was only there to cover the Golden 50 collection for Hot Rod.  I sat through the first Funny Car session on Thursday, but made it only halfway through the fuelers - always my favorite category - before the painfully-loud commercials and classic rock music drove me out of the stands.  I spent the rest of the day at the NHRA Museum. 

Sadly, that's a pretty universal experience anymore. As a photojournalist, do you have a preference between writing or photography?

Writing and editing are my strong suits.  Although I think I've got a decent eye for photography in the pits and behind the scenes, I'm lousy at action, and have the hundreds of rolls of black-and-white film to prove it.  I've seen just about everyone's film, over the years, and almost nobody is good at both.  My father and Guldahl are two exceptions - and Dad shot most of his published work with an early Polaroid! 

What would you like to be doing now, if you weren't editing HRD? What would your ultimate dream gig be?

Ironically, I'd rather be doing what I was doing right before I signed this one-year contract:  writing and shooting freelance articles for Hot Rod and Hot Rod Deluxe, supplemented by Social Security (for which I'll qualify this October).  I loved what David Freiburger was doing with Deluxe, and he treated me real well.  Unfortunately, freelancing has always been a feast-or-famine deal, and there are far fewer outlets than ever for the historical stuff that's become my niche.  One downside of self employment is making minimal Social Security contributions, and I haven't had a real job, with payroll deductions, since leaving Hot Rod in 1980.  That's why I'll be working 'til I tip over - probably onto this damn keyboard, if I don't stop staying up all night doing dumb things like this.        

We're all so glad you're this dumb! What does the future of drag racing look like? Or does it even have a future?

I'm confident that drag racing will survive, in various forms.  I can't think of any other sport that continually spawns spin-offs.  Nitro nostalgia is my favorite form.  I've been fortunate to live in the state where front-motored fuelers made their comeback, in the late '70s and early '80s.  With the recent additions of cacklers and nostalgia floppers, I'm able to see and hear and smell more than 100 different blown-fuel cars in a single weekend (California Hot Rod Reunion), just five hours from home.  That event and the modern March Meet are the next-best things to traveling back in time to the mid-Sixties' U.S. Fuel And Gas Championships or OCIR Manufacturers Meets.  I'm still amazed that people my age (61) - whether racers or fans or media types - are getting a second chance to do this, let alone at Famoso Drag Strip!    

 I know - it feels like we're really getting away with something! Talk about cheating the clock... Bonus question: You're known as one of the legendary hot rod funsters. What's the most fun time you've had in your career?

Walking through the big, glass front doors of Petersen Publishing Company on Sunset Boulevard for the first time as a Hot Rod staffer, in May 1977.  I was reminded of that feeling during a recent visit to that abandoned building.

 The Petersen Building (or 'Polar Bear Square', in honor of a mounted mamma bear on the top floor): 8480 and 8490 Sunset Blvd, on the strip. "Robert E. Petersen sold the prime property to a developer after selling his company in 1996, but the City of West Hollywood rejected plans for a multi-level parking structure. Ironically, our old parking garages and back lot are being used for exactly that: Overflow parking for nearby bars and nightclubs. Abandoned and vandalized. Sad sight, yeah..."  Photos by Dave Wallace Jr.


 Double bonus points question: You're a shoe-in for Lifetime Achievement and plenty more awards. If you don't live long enough to receive them in person, what message would you like conveyed to the awarding parties? What will be your epitaph?

Jeez, Louise, will this NEVER end?  Sigh.  Oh, all right; flattery will get you everywhere.  I can't imagine a bigger honor than my induction into the Int'l Drag Racing Hall Of Fame, with my whole family and a couple of dozen close pals on hand.  We partied for five straight days and nights in Florida.  It was the last time I saw my best friend, Pete LaBarbera, who passed away this year.  (See new issue of Hot Rod Deluxe for more about that.) 

Even though I've made more missteaks in print than possibly anyone during 47 years of this, I hope I'm remembered for getting the facts right most of the time; for being fair; for speaking truth to power, regardless of the personal consequences; for convincing a reader that my words were entertaining and/or educational enough to justify the 25 cents (Drag News) or seven bucks (Hot Rod Deluxe) that he paid for that particular publication.        

Then Dave laid his head on his keyboard, spent - crashing and burning into a hard sleep. Shhh... (But get this: He left his family photo album open! Gather around, you guys and get a load of this stuff! Just don't wake him up!)

Drag News editor with CJ ("Pappy") and Peggy Hart at AHRA Winternationals, Beeline Dragway in Phoenix, Arizona. Mid '70s. Photo by Ron Hussey

PR Director, announcer and track reporter at Orange County International Raceway '74 - '75

      Hot Rod Magazine feature editor at Englishtown or Gainesville. 1977

Somewhere in America with Gray Baskerville. Year and photographer unknown.

"No ear plugs! I hurt my hearing on this one. It was drizzling, but the HRM cover was already printing, promising a feature on 'Big's' new car". Fremont Raceway 1980. Photo by Jim Bernasconi

"My favorite family photo" L-R: Blessed Virgin Linda Tessier (best friend since 2nd grade), Senior, brother Sky and Junior. Photo by (wife) Donna Guadagni

Drag Racing Magazine staffer with Wally Parks. Bandimere Raceway - late'80s. "A true love/hate relationship: I loved Wally - he hated me!"

Out take from DW's first HRM cover shoot: Torrey Pines, California 1978.
L-R: Jim McCraw, Gray Baskerville, Marlan Davis, Dave Wallace, Lee Kelley, Bruce Caldwell. Women are production and administrative staffers. Photo by Bob McClurg

Dave Wallace, Donna Guadagni, Jon 'Thunderlungs' Lundberg ("My adopted illegitimate deadbeat dad"). Photo by Francis Butler

               Senior, Junior and Sky Wallace, at the '07 March Meet.

     The 'Group W Bench'. 2005 NHRA Hall of Fame inductees get their names on Famoso bench. L-R: Lynette and Rodger Faddis, Irene Romero, Paula Anton, Sky, Tommy Garrity, Senior sitting. Photo by Junior.

                 Wallace Road. L-R: Sky, Junior Dave, Ryan, Senior Dave.

Faith Granger Interview

                                           

                                              Photo by Eric Callero


If you're just awakening from your 1999 New Years party hangover, welcome  back! Some fun stuff happened while you were out. For one thing, a whirlwind named Faith Granger blew in from Europe and made a grassroots hot rod film, named for it's central character: "Deuce of  Spades" - a traditional '32 highboy roadster. The car is owned by  Faith and she does work on it herself (including a total re-wire, during  filming). In my typical Forrest Gump fashion, I stumbled into the path of the storm and found  myself compelled to help out with one of the early US press releases of the film (Trivia factoid: I wrote and performed a guitar piece  for the soundtrack that ended up on the cutting room floor).

The calm before the mob scene at the Ionia Theatre's World Premiere of Deuce Of Spades

Photo by Kelly Lynne

This was a true grassroots effort, with Faith writing, directing,  producing, acting, building sets, editing, scoring the soundtrack, making sandwiches, recruiting volunteers and sacrificing untold credit cards in an attempt to bring the Golden Era of hotrodding to the big  screen. But she did it. The big screen premiere was front cover news, covered by all of the (previously skeptical) magazines, making the debut all the sweeter. Besides being booked at select theatres, the film has also been an instant hit on DVD, with sales outpacing most indie films sales records.


Curiosity got the best of me and I placed a call to Faith to find out how 
she was recovering from all the excitement.


Hey Faith. It's Scotty, checking in to see how you're holding up. What's
going on?

Hi Scotty. I am sorry I can not hear you well... I am  driving.

I don't hear any rowdy exhaust. Are you driving the  roadster?

No, I am driving a motor home! An RV, they call it. I bought it and am 
seeing aaaaall  of America!

What? (Lots of static and breaking up) Where are you?

I am somewhere in New Mexico, on I-40.

That would be America, allright. What's going on? Are the police  chasing
you?

No... I am on a ten months tour to promote the film! I am living in this RV
and a truck is caravanning with me, pulling the Deuce of Spades in an
enclosed trailer. We just screened the film at the Viva Las Vegas show and are on our way to Arkansas for the next show!

Okay, so much for recuperating... How'd it go in Vegas?

It was awesome! We now have a professional digital theatrical master of the
film and it looks killer on the big screen!

How did this tour come about?

The hot rod community has rolled up its sleeves and is bringing the film to the big screen in their communities. Basically we are bypassing the big movie studios system altogether! Car clubs are contacting me to get legal
permission to organize "Show and Shine and DEUCE OF SPADES screening" special events. I help them with advice and planning, give them legal clearance, and whenever possible, I also make a personal appearance with the deuce, introducing the film and doing question and answer sessions as well as signings after each showing. So far, the events have been a great success. Everybody is having a blast and leaving the events with a renewed passion for the hobby!

That's so cool that the grassroots nature of the project is keeping its 
momentum going! You know that's what I live for...

Yes, I know. It is the only way I would want to do this, myself! It is a very beautiful thing. The people are demanding it and promoters are giving
them what they want. Everyone is happy!

Wow. Could you have even dreamed of this, when you were growing up in 
France? Were you always into cars? And into filmmaking?

My grandfather was a car electrician who had a very successful shop in the
forties. I must have his genes, because I was always into cars and into 
mechanics, ever since I was a little girl. My father worked for the French 
embassy so we moved to Beirut, Lebanon. There were no road rules there, so he taught me how to drive when I was only eleven! Him and I used to tinker on his car all the time. I remember it had a double barrel carburetor (and I
took it apart more than once). I would read books about mechanics while in
class (I would hide them under my desk) and after tinkering with motorcycles a bit, I decided I was ready to try to tackle building a car. But with the war, we just couldn't get the parts to build the cool car I had in mind. So I had to put the idea of owning a hotrod on the back burner... For 30 years!! As far as filmmaking goes, I have always been very artistic but my focus was solely music. It was my deuce that inspired me to want to tackle
filmmaking next, because I wanted to bring the jalopies back to the big screen and tell their story.

And look at you now. First time filmmaker and you come out of the gate 
with a winner! Amazing. 'Faith' is SO appropriate...

(More laughter) The film is getting great reviews everywhere in the world!
I know the US media was very skeptical at first about my completing the 
film and whether it would be any good, but after seeing it, they have now
become believers: Quotes like "Best hot rod film since American  Graffiti" are not given to a film everyday. One editor kept saying "This film is  KILLER -
KILLER!"

So you're hitting it hard, all this year. What then? You know, if you 
survive this tour?

I might have to take a little break (Break?? What's that???). Assess if I
have the means and energy/health to tackle another one and sustain another three years of physical abuse (no sleep, no food, working on my feet 16  hours a day to film). The sequel has already been written and everybody is asking for a sequel to the film. We all want to spend more time with the characters we have come to love so much, Johnny, Art, Tommy... But if I am to make a sequel, the hot rod community better get fully behind me this time, cause last time it was so hard to get cars, I almost gave up. I will need real support, more cars, new locations and... A CREW! Yeah a small crew sure would be nice (laughs).  So I guess we will see what the Big Guy upstairs has in mind for me, for all of us.

Yeah, we'll see. And meanwhile, you're seeing  America...

(laughing again) Yes! When we picked up the trailer in Phoenix, there was a
big car cruise underway, downtown - their big annual cruise  - and these
muscle cars are doing burnouts! I am sitting in the Deuce of Spades, just
watching these wild burnouts by these muscle cars The crowd started to egg me on: 'Come on, do a burnout!', you know. My first one surprised the heck
out of them. You could hear the clapping and huge cheering traveling across
two city blocks! I did about 10 more after that. The cops were enjoying the show and letting us have our way in downtown Phoenix that night. Most
fun I have had at a car event in years! (laughs)

That's my America... Glad you treated them to a real 'traditional' 
burnout! Ha! Will we be having this kind of fun in the future, in your opinion?

I think people will always love old cars - probably only a total gas 
shortage would stop us from driving them. But I worry that the new  generation of hotrodders are too cliquish and scare many good people away. I love the old timers because they welcome new comers to the hobby with  open arms. And if our hobby is to stay alive, we can't discourage new comers from getting involved: The hobby needs new blood.. Who knows what the new comer may bring to the hobby? If I had let the nasty people on some  of those hot rod forums discourage me from contributing to the hobby (and God  knows they tried), the hot rod community would have been deprived of a great new hot rod film. So always be nice to new comers, cause they might turn out to be the chicken that will lay the golden egg. My film has already inspired so many to renew their passion and start to work on their cars again, drive them more, and even take the plunge on buying a new project... I get emails with such testimonies every day. Just as American Graffiti revitalized the hobby in the seventies, I believe Deuce Of Spades has the power to inspire many, bring back tradition and give the hobby the energy power boost it needs. Now what are you doing still reading this? Turn your computer  off, get back to the garage and start wrenching!

Yes maam! But first, if you were a car, what kind would you be?

(long belly laugh)... (catching breath)... Scotty! ... That was a dumb
question, man! The Deuce of Spades!

                                               Photo by Eric Callero
And that's when we lost our phone connection for good. She's out there somewhere, probably headed toward your town. Here's the latest tour itinerary from Faith's website:

To contact filmmaker about organizing a DEUCE OF SPADES screening in your town, please email FAITH GRANGER at faithgrangerfilm@aol.com (serious booking enquiries only please).

                      Keep updated at: http://www.deuceofspadesmovie.com/

Dave Wallace Jr. Interview Part 1

                     Dave Jr on the job at San Fernando Drag Strip 1962
                                        (Photo by Dave Wallace Sr)


The name has been around our scene for so long, it has insideously morphed into the landscape. The Wallace brand has been burned into most every story of substance that ever emanated from a drag strip. The words and images are now our subconcious wallpaper, parroted to every newcomer that finds a seat in the stands, stumbles into the pits, or squeezes in with the railbirds. Whether your favorite drag tale is a philosophical parable, a list of stats, the hot skinny poop on a behind-the-scenester, or a slapstick calamity, chances are, you stole it from Dave Wallace - Senior or Junior.

In the course of touching base with Dave Jr. on various magazine projects, I've come to realize what treasures he and his dad are. Last week, I made the mistake of asking Junior something about his dad and have been getting very little done since. I asked Dave to let me print some of our conversation here and he eventually agreed. It's more than some guy's memoirs. It's really the story of drag racing's reluctant maturation, told by someone who rode a typewriter right through the vortex while experiencing the same cultural twists as the rest of us.


For those who may not be familiar with your dad's work, can you give a little summary of his career?

Senior Dave spent 39 years with the post office.  For about eight of those years, from 1957 up to the summer of 1965, he moonlighted at San Fernando Drag Strip (later Raceway), initially as a ticket taker.  He recalls that it was around 1960 when manager Harry Hibler made him the track's "trophy man," whose duties included typing up class-record certificates on the spot, Sunday afternoons.  Later that evening, at home, he'd type up the list of class winners, complete with hometowns, vehicle and engine makes, final-round e.t.s and speeds, in triplicate or quadruplicate, using individual sheets of messy carbon paper between onion-skin pages.  Last but not least, the trophy man was expected to write a recap of the day's action and drop it off at the post office for a special delivery pickup around dawn Monday.  Dad was San Fernando's first trophy man who further enclosed fresh photography, thanks to an early-model Polaroid camera belonging to the real-estate developers who owned the land and the track (and adjoining San Fernando Airport).

Senior Dave certainly had the writing and photography talents to do magazine work, but neither the time (raising three kids, working two or three jobs) nor automotive interest and knowledge (never was a gearhead).  He got that gig only because the track owner happened to own the building that the USPS leased for the Panorama City Post Office - and because 100 percent of the weekly proceeds from 'Fernando's earliest years (1955, '56, '57) didn't always survive the car-club volunteers who originally staffed the pit and spectator gates.  One day while dropping or picking up the mail for the real-estate-development company he co-owned with Fritz Burns, the track's general manager, William Hannon, noticed Dad and the other clerks counting large stacks of bills at the end of the business day.  He asked whether any of those guys would be interested in a Sunday-only job that paid $20 (nearly the tuition being charged for three Wallace kids in Catholic grammar school).  Postal pay being way low at that time, all five clerks jumped at the chance to supplement their income.  All of them had the same initial question for Hannon:  "What's a 'drag strip'?"

Was it a blessing or a curse, working in the same field your dad was so well known in?

Blessing; no downside whatever.  I think he'd tell you that he never was "so well known," insofar as his writing and photography were confined to covering that one small strip, and only for the weekly drag rags.
 
 So then, did you just ride into the scene on your dad's coat tails, or work up from the bottom?

Hey, you said there'd only be SEVEN questions!  (Are we there yet?)

In 1961, when I was 11, Dad suggested that manager Hibler hire me to replace a flaky time-slip guy, since I was at the track every Sunday, anyway, applying Polaroid's pink "goop" onto the black-and-white prints magically appearing about a minute after Dad pulled them out of the camera.  The time-slip guy wrote 'em, then passed them out a tiny window to the lone security guard charged with both keeping the peace and passing out slips.  (His presence also discouraged speeding on the return road - grounds for immediate ejection.) 

            
               The San Fernando Timeslip Bunker (Photographer Unknown)


The time-slip guy sat in a partially-sunken pillbox, right between the push-down or fire-up road and the return road, about 100 feet downtrack.  As the pairs of cars staged, one after the other (no burnouts, remember), I'd write their respective numbers and classes on separate time slips, while listening to a war-surplus squawk box for the announcer's single reading of the previous race's winning e.t. and speed (single-lane timing, still), which I'd write on the appropriate driver's time slip.  Screwups could get ugly, because these slips were the only record of a run after the announcer cleared the clocks.  It might've been the most-intense, most-pressure-packed job I ever had at a drag strip - and I had just about all of them, except for manager and tech inspector - and I loved every second!  No seat since has compared with sitting that close to two cars launching, plus right in between wire-wheel cars being push started at speed, plus cars returning from their runs, all uncorked.  The pill box was sunken a couple of feet into the dirt, so my chest was about level with the asphalt - making my head just about level with the weedburner pipes on the fuel cars and the fenderwell headers of the gassers and stockers on the return road.  Good vibrations, indeed! 

Next stop was selling 50-cent pit passes into the hot-car pits.  If you didn't steal any of the money, Hibler moved you up to the main walk-through pit gate, which had the major benefits of a shade tree and water fountain, but restricted the view to the first 200 feet of track.  That's one of the reasons I started bugging my dad to let me take the weekly Drag News report off of his $25 day.  The only subject that ever came easily to me was English; in particular, creative writing.  I could - and often did - procrastinate a composition assignment until literally the 11th hour, even writing it on the ride to school or during the previous class, and still get a B, or better.  I was totally enthralled with the shows I was seeing every Sunday, knew all of the players, followed the rest in the drag rags and mags, and had watched my dad bang out a story a week for years.  It never occurred to this dumb kid that he could not do it.

                                    With Steve Sturgeon's T/FD 1964
                                             (Photo by Phil Tessier)

I was making 50 cents an hour on the pit gates, for a grand total of about three bucks a week, so I offered to write his story for $5 and nearly double my pay, plus move out to the starting line.  On Father's Day, June of 1964, when I was 14, Dad finally relented, so he and Mom could go out for a rare Sunday dinner (possibly to Van Nuys Bob's, a real treat for our family).  I was still slaving over the story on a yellow legal pad when they got home.  By the time he ripped my first manuscript out of my hands, had me decipher the scribbling, and typed it up, it was well past midnight.  He pronounced right then and there that, while my story was passable, my lack of typing skills was not. 

The first thing I wrote after learning to type, at age 14, was a feature about Top Gas Eliminator.  I submitted it to Drag Racing magazine, but it showed up in DRM's sister pub, Modern Rod, Nov. '64 ("The Great Gas Comeback").  I think it ran five pages, exactly as writ; not a single word was changed, giving my confidence the huge boost that you can imagine.  In the cover letter to the editor, I asked for 75 bucks if the story was published.  I'm still waiting to be paid, 47 years later.       

So, that same month, I enrolled in the only summer-school course of my brief, less-than-spectacular scholastic career:  Freshman Typing, courtesy of James Monroe High School (Sepulveda, California).  At some point after I turned 15 that October (1964), I took over the weekly race reports (three different versions: for Drag News, Drag Sport Illustrated and Drag World) and results lists, while Dad continued handling trophies and shooting photos.  We might've kept on like that indefinitely, working as a well-oiled team, had the family not driven across country in early summer 1965 to the folks' hometown of Southington, Connecticut.  Hibler agreed to use existing staff members to cover us for the either three or four Sundays we'd be gone.  Things went according to schedule until our second weekend back east, when a family friend offered to take me to Connecticut Dragway in the hot Corvair he regularly raced.  Enroute to the track, on a country road, he cut a blind corner at the same moment as a guy in a '57 Chevy coming the other way.  We collided headlight to headlight.  Police-estimated impact speed was 110-plus (i.e., each car doing at least 55 mph).  I got off the lightest of all five passengers involved, with smashed cartiledge in my right knee, but was unable to bend that leg into the back seat of a '64 Impala for another two weeks.  My dad dutifully informed manager Hibler of the delays early in each of those weeks, but when we finally got back home, Harry called to tell him that the guy who'd volunteered to be our summer replacement wanted to keep doing both of our jobs, so we were out - and stunned, and pissed off.  Although my dad had acquired another parttime job at Schiltz Brewery for more pay, fewer hours, and even FREE FUCKING BEER (to quote Bret Kepner's infamous "Breasts On Fire" spoof radio spot) and had been considering turning the deal over to me after I got old enough to drive myself and my little brother (ace Drag News-Drag Sport Illustrated salesman, Sky) out to the track, he was bummed on my behalf.

I mention this in such detail because it led directly and ironically to be my Big Break.  Within a couple weeks, Hibler called the house and asked for Dave Junior, not Senior, for the first time ever.  To my astonishment, he revealed that the new guy couldn't handle the load - and that he thought that I could, without Dad.  He gave me about one day to think it over, because he needed someone that Sunday.  My initial inclination was to decline, out of loyalty to my dad.  Ironically, it was my dad and Ed Sarkisian, a drag-rag columnist who'd become my pen pal and long-distance mentor, who convinced me to reconsider, and seize the opportunity.  Dad even offered to drop me at the track Sunday mornings, then pick me up after the last of the trophies and record certificates were handed out, until I turned 16 and got my license. 

         

16 year old Dave Jr on the clock at windy San Fernando in '65 with friend.

It's been said that ya gotta be bad SOMEwhere, and this is where I sewed my bad seeds, from that eventful summer of '65 until either late '67 or early '68, when I quit - to go drag racing, of all things!  Y'see, track workers weren't allowed to make runs (except for Hibler, in disguise, but that's another blog post - which you ought to get HIM to write!), and I'd just bought a two-year-old Formula S Barracuda that had been a regular trophy winner for the guy who built it, the late Ron Neidorf.  In my farewell Drag News, I spouted this lame, if heartfelt, explanation: "The urge to race is stronger than the urge to write."  (Ugh!) 

That might've been the end of my automotive-journalism career right there, at age 17, but for the intersection of a broken output shaft and a chance encounter between my sister, working at Brownie's Snack Bar, and Ralph Guldahl Jr., the Lions PR guy and my first journalistic hero.


[To Be Continued ... some time when it ISN'T five o'clock in the morning!]                              

Gosson Bros Racing Exposed!

That's right, we're hanging it all out here, for your amusement. Future generations will need a document for reference and this interview will serve as that template! In other words, I've been too busy this week to contact any big shots for interviews, so I roped my brothers into filling in at the last minute.

                          Gosson Bros: L to R: Wayne, Mark and Scotty

But the Gosson Bros weren't always my brothers and I. Our dad and his brothers were the originals, tearing up untold miles of highway on wicked scary rat Harleys, tweaked in ramshackle little garages and driven hellbent for leather, no matter the weather or the destination (which was often jail). Their heyday was the 1940's, but by the time we caught Go Fever, it took four wheels to catch our eyes. Car culture ruled and we were its eager obedient slaves. Besides, who wants to do what their folks did, right?

Oldest brother Wayne is the ringleader. He's built literally hundreds of high profile rods and customs. Here's some that are mentioned in this interview:

I followed in Wayne's footsteps. My junk has all been street/strip beaters. Most famous are the 'Son of Godzilla' Morris and the 'BTU' '58 Anglia:

Youngest brother Mark followed in my footsteps, but went German in a quest to separate from the herd: He's best known these days for the 'Rubber Chicken' Bug and the 'Dub 'n' Aire' Karman Ghia:

The three of us sat down for a virtual benchrace session here at the expansive SGE facilities this week (on Wayne's birthday, actually), during a late-night break in the action. This was a 'virtual' session, as Wayne lives in a Nebraska cornfield these days. He was 'too busy' to drive to Oregon for a 15 minute talk with his brothers, so he phoned it in. It started off in typical fashion...


Allright you leakers, knock it off! Let's get started. hey, Hey, HEY! C'mon you jangleheads, this is serious. Focus... Wayne, let's start with you. Age before beauty and all that. What's your earliest memory of what you wanted to be when you grew up? And what influenced you into hot rodding?


Wayne: When I was 4 or 5 years old, I'd strut around with a grease rag in the back pocket of my little white coveralls and a little mechanic's hat on my head, just like my daddy. I had a [then new] sad-face Fire Chief's pedal car that I'd jack up and crawl under to "fix" it, just like dad did with our family '48 Pontiac. I was gonna be a mechanic when I grew up.


Scotty: Jeez, you were a little prophet! Our (only) sister Gaye and cousin Dianne were quite the cowgirls and influenced me. I figured I'd be a singing cowboy when I grew up. I was on my way too, when car culture, then the Beatles sidetracked me. Wayne, you mostly raised me, so you and your gearhead friends were my biggest influence, for better or worse. In fact, once Ma taught me my ABC's, I learned to read from your car magazines. Tagging along with you guys was 'it' for me! I was 'behind the scenes' at a pretty early age, gettin' the inside scoop on events most of today's adults would gasp at. I've been junk ever since.


Mark: Well, I always wanted to be an entertainer. Someone who could bring a smile to people's faces and make them feel better. I got into the 'freaky' show cars of the 60s and 70s, when they were built just for fun. No, they weren't realistic - some of them didn't even run. But they served a purpose - to make people smile! Unfortunately, the car people took them way too seriously and seemed to think it was a slap in their face and didn't see the fun side. Heck, it brought more people into the shows to see the 'real' hot rods, right? Anyway, that's what got me into hot rodding and the style of builds I do now: Kinda cartoonie, simple cars - you either like 'em or you don't. There's no half way, usually.




What was your first car, or the first one you got running, anyway? How 'bout your dream car - the one that's still eluding you?




Wayne: My very first car was a cherry-pie 28-29 Ford coupe that a boyhood friend of my dad gave to me when I was 14 or 15. My buddy Ken Bailey and I would ride the 11 miles on our bikes [the last 3 miles were gravel road] to unbolt parts from it, bring them back to town and clean and paint them in preparation for the day it came home. Then we moved to another town, 120 miles away, when I was halfway through my sophomore year of high school. When I got out of the Army 6 years later, I drove up to see the old coupe and it was gone..
First car I got running was my '50 Ford Crestliner.. Built a '53 Merc motor
for it, in dad's little one car garage as a Junior in high school.

Scotty: I'll never forget stabbing that motor: "Scotty, you get under the car and line up the motor mounts when I lower the engine with this chain over that tree limb". Limb broke halfway down and my (8 year old) life passed before my eyes!

Wayne: Yeah, sorry about that. But you survived. Ahem... My dream car
has always been a 33-34 Ford coupe and the dream car I still don't have is
[another] '57 Pontiac super chief two door hardtop.


Scotty: Hey, you can never have enough '57 Pontiacs (a family illness)... And I know you're still cryin' about that Model A coupe - ouch! But you're building your dream car now: the '34 coupe! Maybe if I live that long - how old are you again? Nevermind. Well, I had a couple of $10 specials (first was a '52 Merc 2-door sedan) that never turned a tire, before I made enough hay bailing money to buy my '53 Ford 2-door wagon from Jim's Better Buys, on the edge of town. Paid $75. I was 12. Two years later, that's right where it barfed out the rods, coasting onto Jim's dirt lot and coming to rest in a puddle of it's own smoking oil. That car was a good education, setting me up for more high performance pursuits, afterward.


Mark: '63 Rambler wagon. Mom bought me a TV for Christmas and said if I wanted something else, I could take it back, so I took it down to K-Mart and got my $99. I scoured the want ads and found the Rambler. Plopped down my 99 bones and drove it two miles home. Turned it off and she never started again! No one could get it to fire. I paid $25 to have the junkyard come pick 'er up. I guess Karma says, if someone gives you a present, just accept it and don't try to finagle something better.
First car I got going? First I had to decide what to buy with my paper route/Taco Bell money. It was a toss-up between a Pinto wagon and a VW.  I chose to look for a VW first because, with Dad being out of the picture, I knew that I would have to fix anything myself, and with no experience, I knew there were more books on how to fix a VW than a Pinto.   I found a 1965 VW Bug sitting in a field, cobwebs in the engine compartment, rats nests in the interior, the whole Mary Anne!  But in the tradition of the VW, I put gas in it, a new battery in it and drove it home. Later, as I drove it daily, it would become 'Beginner's Luck!' and then 'Beginner's Luck Volume II'.  Dream car? I'm building it right now - the 'Dub-N-Aire'......The one(s) I always wanted? Of course, a '57 Chevy or Squarebird and for something REALLY different, a first generation Acura NSX. Not very hot roddy, huh?


Scotty: Mom bought you a TV?!


Mark: We're running out of blog room here...


Wayne: Scotty, 'focus', remember?


Scotty: Yeah, but -




It's a miracle that you survived what car adventure?




Wayne: Miracle adventure. Hmmm... (looking up, scratching chin) Hasta be the summer of '66. I'd just graduated from highschool [by the skin-o-my teeth!] and left home to go live in an old classmate's parent's basement in my old home town. Had a '55 Ford tudor with a 272, 3-speed O.D. and a leaky rear main seal with a slippery clutch. Had no job, no money, sold cast-off batteries and radiators to buy beer, had my buddy's little brother steal gas for our cars [Danny had a '55 Chevy hardtop with a KILLER 301, 3 speed] and ended up in jail twice that summer. Went in the Army that fall.


Scotty: Yeah, good times (laughs). But that's just where you had to go, to end up here today. Me too: I started driving at 12. I drove everywhere loaded, until I got straight at 28. So, 16 years of driving drunk (or worse) with no license or insurance, but no legal trouble - that's a miracle right there. After that, my closest call was probably busting my trans into three pieces while crossing the finish line at the strip in the Morris at night. 127 MPH on slicks covered with trans fluid - I still can't believe I didn't hit anything. But I almost got hit several times by other racers who didn't know my flat black car was sitting on the un-lit track! That was hairy...


Mark: You and me Scotty, in a stock oval window rag top  Bug, with a 36 horse engine on the ¼ mile - racing against an 8 second dragster.   Man, what a head start we had! With me driving and you looking over your shoulder saying, "Nope, he hasn't left yet...not yet......still sitting there"
"Scotty, I'm almost at the finish line!!"
"Well he must've broke, 'cause he's sitting there.  Make sure you don't break out, or you'll........WAIT!!!  He's coming!"
By now I've already put the binders on so I won't break out, then I hit the loud pedal all the way to the floor (could you tell?) and you say, "He's coming, oh geez, he's coming!!!"
When he passed us, it was very exciting and scary all at the same time...but when we lost, 'cuz I hit the brakes, the crowd went wild!!!  I still haven't lived that down!!!


Scotty: One of the best laughs of my life! When that guy passed us, the wind almost knocked your Bug on it's side! I may have pee'd myself that night...




What's your favorite car adventure, so far?


Wayne: There are sooooooo many! I guess driving my '41 Pontiac from Omaha to the Bonneville salt flats for Speed Week and then from there down to the HAMB drags the following weekend, tops the others..I dunno. Driving my '50 Chevy sedan delivery to Oregon for my 30th class reunion, stopping at Bonneville, camping along the way, stopping by Sturgis on the way home is also cool.


Scotty: Now that's an adventure with some substance. Hmmm... I've been so lucky - I've had so many adventures... But the one that meant the most, was Bonneville '96. We got there with the Morris and the entire family was there waiting! I'm still blown away! We towed from Nebraska and arrived to find the event rained out - but we had a blast and didn't really care! That was one of the sweetest moments of my life. Probably the only time I really felt a part of the family, you know (we're not the tightest family in town).


Mark: Oh, all the times I've driven a VW to Bug-O-Rama (or tried to!) are way up there, but numero uno?  It has to be Wayne and I sitting in a Greek Gyros on a Friday night at 8:00pm in Omaha, NE eating dinner and trying to figure out what to do for the weekend.  Wayne says, "Well, tomorrow is the Lone Star Round-Up in Austin, Texas." 
"So, how far is that from us?"
"Dunno, about 900 miles or so...."
"So what are we doing sitting here? Let's go!"
We were on the road before 9:00pm! Tooling all the way down to Waco-land in a slammed, black primered turbo 944 Porsche.....luckily the primer made us invisible to the cops. Either that, or they just saw us fly by and said, "There ain't no way what I'm lookin' at can be real"! Driving until noon Saturday morning straight through with my big brother, who without knowing it, turned me into a hot rodder: When he was in the Army, he left his '57 Pontiac at our house and being a snot nosed little 7 year old, it made a great slide, from the roof to the trunk, to the ground...but don't tell him!


Wayne: Say what?! YOU did that?


Mark: Scotty made me! Tee hee hee...


Scotty: I took the heat for that one, since I was left in charge of the '57 while Wayne was in Germany. By the way, houses have 'roofs', cars have 'tops'. Kids... (shaking head) But man, I was jealous of you on that one, Mark.  You guys called about a dozen times with updates, rubbing it in. That was hard to take.




What car adventure is still on your list?




Wayne: I wanna run the "One-Lap of America" race with my son.


Scotty: I came this close (holding thumb and forefinger barely apart) to running 9s with the Morris! And I always wanted to run Pikes Peak with it, just to say I did, you know. I hope to drive to the east coast and back some day in something fun, taking my time and seeing everything I've only heard about.


Mark: Driving the Dub-N-Aire to Hot August Nights.  Who has ever driven a bubble top anywhere? I'll be the first!
I'd always wanted to drive the "Rubber Chicken" from Medford, Oregon to Omaha, Nebraska..but alas, bills came due and I had to sell it (has this ever happened to anyone else?)




Looking back on your car life, what's the real value of your experience?




Wayne: I've made my living as a mechanic all my life, so building hotrods was just a natural offshoot - a relaxing hobby that helped me in my work
life. Plus, I can charge my hotrod magazines off to expenses on my taxes!

 Scotty: (chuckling) Yeah, bonus! Working on cars for a living taught me a lot about acceptance and perseverance - tools I use everyday. Building cars from scratch has taught me to look before I leap (when I remember to). Racing cars has taught me meditative skills - gotta get my drag zen on, if I wanna focus to the best of my abilities.
A lifetime of car culture has taught me that there's hardly anything less important. The people in the culture are my mirrors, showing me how easy it is to be seduced by nuts and bolts as a distraction from the real priorities - the 'inside stuff', you know. Having said that, gearheads are mostly straight-shooting, stand-up people and most are dear friends.


Mark: Hot Rodding and cars in general have taught me to appreciate other people's ideas and learn from them and from other areas of my life.  To be open minded enough to "steal" ideas from the off-roaders, the drag racers, the soap box derby racers, the washing machine makers, all sorts of people have given me ideas (some of them even good!) for my cars.  I suppose the best thing I have learned is to be tolerant of all the different areas of hot rodding.  Seriously, who would have thought in the '70's that we would be clamoring for longroofs? Or having entire shows and books and magazines devoted to "unfinished" primered cars? Nothing stays the same in this hobby, I love how it continues to evolve.






What's the future of hot rodding?




Wayne: Future? (laughs). The twists and turns it's taken through the years
have gob-smacked me! I never would have believed the stuff that's already
happened with rat-rods, go-carts, the van craze. But they've all been
superficial and temporary. I say the future will hold quality hotrods being
built that actually are capable of driving across America to have FUN!  I
see a resurgence of actual driving events that may even involve camping with
teardrop trailers and multi-day events. With quality-built hotrods that
actually have paint and plating.

Scotty: Wayne, I hope you're right about a return to driving events. As for the future, jeez, I have my hands full with the present! I'm grateful we have SEMA, so hot rodding has a chance for a future. I suspect rodders will have to make some hard choices to ensure that happens. But I know that when I got into this as a punk-ass kid in the '60s, no one could've seen where we're at today. This looks like the golden age, to me: More knowledge than ever at our fingertips, along with the biggest aftermarket in history and factory gow ending up in wrecking yards, so everybody wins! Will it get better or worse from here? I dunno, ask Mark!


Mark: Future? No future, just a continuing road......Who knows what will be "hot"? We've seen the carb slowly dying and EFI's just a "normal" thing today.  We thought 20 years ago, no real hot rod would have EFI, or a "self-leveling" suspension. Heck, I remember when it was looked down on to have seat belts!  But hot rodders are a smart bunch (shhhhhh, don't tell anyone, they still think we're all Bo & Luke Duke types!) and want to be safe, smart and if you are being honest, even though breaking down on the road can make a great story 6 months later, no one looks forward to or wants to break down.  The future? Tuck away those 4 door Tempos, the Grand Caravans, the 3 cylinder Sprints and the Prius', 'cuz in 2035 they will be highly sought after!  Don't believe me?  Well I wish I still had that 1963 Rambler Station Wagon that was drug to the automotive grave yard....it'd be worth more than $99 today!




If you were a car, what kind would you be?




Wayne: If I was a car, I'd be a Duesenburg roadster.

Mark and Scotty: What?!

Wayne: Oh yeah! I'd sit quietly in my climate controlled garage being rubbed and petted, only going outside to run on the best days! What a life! Any scratches or dings would be fixed immediately on my fenders!

Scotty: Huh. Well, I'd be a Jeep. I believe it was Elaine Benis - spokesperson for our generation - who said (paraphrasing): 'Women are sleek, graceful, beautiful sports cars. Men are Jeeps. Not pretty, but they get the job done' That's me.


Mark: I'd be Red Foxx's "Lil Red Wrecker". Completely out of the ordinary, brings a smile to everyone's face, yet leaves you wondering......why? But you also notice that that it's built to work, and move fast, and look good, all at the same time. Besides, try to find a picture of it without a bikini woman rubbing up against it...that is SO me!!! (laughs)


One more note on the future: Wayne's son Jeremy and Mark's son Skyler have both done major damage in the hot rod world already and they're just getting warmed up! Watch out for these two... I have yet to produce any offspring, but would like to take this opportunity to tell you that Shellski and I are only seven months from announcing..........................
that we've gone another seven months without changing a single diaper! Thank you.


And that should be about as much exposure to the Gosson Bros as the Surgeon General should allow. I'm so sorry. Be sure to wash your hands after reading this.