Banned! Dan Clark's Camaro

The Banned! series consists of feature stories that the corporate media don't want you to see. These are stories I did for various magazines that never were published, for various reasons. This one is a typical example.

Although I've enjoyed working on many musclecars for customers over the years, my personal preference is for older hot rods and customs. But when I stumbled across Dan's Camaro, it's edgy street racer presence won me over.
I assumed the magazines would love it, so I approached Dan about doing this feature. He was into it and let me ride shotgun for a few days and nights, shooting photos and taking notes. I submitted the story to the magazines I'd already done features for and was surprised to find their marketing departments had declared F-bodys to be newstand poison, just like the shoebox Chevys before them. Curious, since both groups still make up such a huge chunk of the street/race/show scene. Granted, they were played out at one point, but seem to be back stronger than ever (to my uneducated eyes).

I continued down the list and approached all the niche titles, including two for first-gen Camaro titles, who all passed on the story. Fine. I moved on.

I felt bad for Dan and by now I had an emotional attachment to the car myself. So I've decided to set the story free here, using some images I like that I know the magazines would never print, as my tastes tend to run a bit more 'eclectic'.  So for what it's worth, here's a sample of the life of Dan Clark - Hard working American and a true hot rod hero.

                  BIG NOISE FROM SMALLTOWN

        72 typical hours in the life of Dan Clark’s REAL street Camaro   

        By Scotty Gosson

       Photography: Scotty Gosson (and Dennis Vollmar)

In the daylight, they look just like the rest of us. They put in an honest day’s work, pay their taxes and pick up the dog poop. The nocturnal transformation is astounding: With glazed eyes and maniacal grins, they chase their flickering headlights into town, where they wag their tails down comatose side streets from curb to curb, exit quickly, and rarely return - disposable performance art of the hardcore order. What’s going on here? Just your standard gearhead adrenaline and passion, unleashed. With relatively affordable power trickling down to Joe Toolbox, Smalltown America is packing more muscle than ever and something has to give -  usually rubber, sometimes hardened steel and occasionally, eardrums.

Our case study is one Daniel Clark - unassuming owner-operator of an HVAC company in southern Oregon by day, asphalt sadist by night. During his high school days in Roseburg, Dan lusted after this ’67 Rally Sport, owned by body man Rueben Weickum. Dan’s dream was to own “the fastest car in town” and he eventually purchased it. A subsequent move down I-5 to Medford put Dan much closer to the dragstrip, where the orange zinger produced low 11s and an obsessive compulsion in Dan to mine more power from the combo. The power came quick and easy and so did the ensuing catastrophic failure. At that point, Clark wisely drafted street/strip guru Charlie Allin into his program and it was on. Charlie transferred the wounded alloy rat into his triage center (Allin Specialties) and Dan takes it from there: “After that motor gave up, one rebuild later, the car went low 10s. Not fast enough. A new top end and it went 9.50 on the motor. A 350 shot of nitrous and the car went 9.07 at 152 MPH”.

Day One

This is where we came in, hitching a ride on Dan’s pursuit of an eight second timeslip (“My dream is to drive it to the track and run 8.50, then drive it home”). He really wants to justify his 8.50 chassis certification tag! Riding shotgun on the street, we were rattled by the rowdy 572 incher, broadcasting heavy vibes through the chassis with every revolution of the crank. Yeah, it uses solid motor mounts, but this was a red flag we should’ve acknowledged with more than a cursory salute. The externally balanced crank was trying to tell us something, but we were having way too much fun to get the message. Dan mumbled something about spending an hour after each drive tightening fasteners throughout the car and we just chuckled in response. Full steam ahead!

 Despite its eight second ambitions, the Camaro is a bona fide street car. “I drive it all over town and pick up my kids from school in it”, says Dan. Indeed, we’ve witnessed it setting off car alarms from one end of town to the other, over the last couple of years. Like any living human, Dan can’t resist going wide open at any opportunity (“to clean off the plugs, you know”) and the side streets see most of the action. While idling through an industrial complex, our shouted conversation turned to the subject of NMCA class rules and the required 25 mile qualifying drive. These days, those so-called ‘real street’ cars are using twin radiators with giant ice tanks, mondo marine style electric water pumps, and multiple batteries to accomplish the feat. Meanwhile, the throwback Camaro’s temp gauge held steady at 180 on a 90 degree evening and we’d been torturing it for over an hour in downtown traffic, after Dan drove it several miles into town. And oh yeah, with the compression dialed at 10.25-1, 91 octane pump gas is Dan’s fuel of choice. He confided, “Those NMCA guys are still heroes, but the whole ‘street class’ deal seems to have lost touch with reality again”. Maybe the Smalltown heroes are the last of the credible fast guys. We snapped some photos and agreed to meet Dan at the track the next night, if he didn’t have to work too late.

Day Two

At Dan’s previous test and tune session, the car had flirted with kissing both guard walls, so some effort was put into correcting that ungentlemanly behavior. A new Smith Racecraft rear suspension installed by Allin Specialties solved Danny’s traction woes with a vengence - and major wheelies are now a staple of the Camaro’s routine (the rear tires trigger the 60’clocks). After six nitrous passes, the eights seemed elusive as ever (a “still pulling” 9.23 at 151 was the night’s highlight) and the exclamation point was epic noise and violence at the stripe on Dan’s last pass, redefining the term “finish line”. A few days later, the track would close for winter.

                                            Photo by Dennis Vollmar

Day Three

The next morning, we rendezvoused at Allin Specialties, where the Merlin block was unceremoniously yanked from the lifeless F-body and the autotopsy began. It was a short procedure. Upon pulling the pan, half of a connecting rod fell out and a broken weld on the oil pump pickup tube glared back at us. Crankshaft harmonics gone wild seem to be the quandary here. The car had tried to warn us. Dan and Charlie reacted predictably, instantly laying out the next edition of the Big Noise: A 4.75” stroke (ahem - internally balanced, this time) will bring the cubes to 632”; Carrillo rods will be employed (Dan: “I guess you’re supposed to replace the rods every ten years or so” – he got 12 years out of these); more cam; Allin Specialties headers; an SRC chrome moly front clip; a lockup converter; etc, etc, etc… As for Dan’s eight second objective, Charlie opines, “The trans went to crap a few weeks ago. The tired converter put 5 percent more slippage on top of the 8 percent it already had. Otherwise, it’d be in the eights right now”. Dan again: “With Charlie’s help, I’ll no doubt easily run 8.50s next summer”.

So Dan’s Camaro is essentially an eight second pump gas ‘small tire’ street car, just waiting for a chance to prove itself. This will be a really long winter for Dan, Charlie, and especially for Dan’s wife Patty, who knows all too well how much Dan likes sitting around, staring at the calendar (he isn’t exactly Mr. Leisure Time). We’re confident that he’ll be rewarded for his patience next spring by getting kicked off the track for running under his certification and license limits. And to those who may disparage the credibility of the NMCA’s ‘street classes’, we say you need look no further than your own town’s back streets to find the more realistic alternative - alive and well, on genuine public roadways. These cars are out there in the real world, driven by real people who work really hard to make real big power. They may be a bit eccentric after hours, but they produce big noise and small E.T. slips. In Smalltown. It doesn’t get any more real than that.

TECH NOTES

Who: Dan Clark

What: ’67 Camaro RS

Where: Medford, Oregon

Engine: For now, the 572” World Products Merlin aluminum block holds an “old beat up” Crower 4.5” crank and Eagle H-beam rods pushing 10.25-1 Bill Miller Engineering slugs. A Milodon pan and pump team up with a GZ Motorsports vacuum pump to lube the beast. An Erson solid roller (274 int/284 ex @ .050”, .748”/.710” lift, with 110 degree centerline) and PBM lifters direct the action to Dart 355cc CNC’d Pro 1 heads with 121cc chambers. The 1050 cfm Holley Dominator on a Profiler “Sniper” manifold mixes pump gas with an NOS 350 shot of nitrous. A one gallon tank behind the left headlight acts as a nitrous enrichment supply, with a Holley ‘blue pump’ (modified by Allin Specialties) and a Mallory bypass at the fuel solenoid increasing line pressure to keep the switch from constantly triggering, which keeps the pressure consistent. Bullet Machine in Medford did the heavy lifting and assembly. This combo delivered 924.06 HP @ 6400 RPM and 1,296.08 ft lb @ 5350 RPM to the slicks on the chassis dyno at Allin Specialties. As mentioned in the text, bigger and better things are coming to the Camaro’s engine bay this winter.

Ignition: The MSD Digital 6 box, Blaster coil and Pro Billet distributor with Pro cap (for rotor phasing: “They’re always off”, says Charlie) keeps Champion race plugs zapping across a .025” gap.

Exhaust: Dynatech 2 1/8” primary headers with 4” collectors feed the refuse to a 3 1/2” Allin Specialties X-pipe system, terminating into Borla XR-1 Sportsman mufflers.

Transmission: A B&M shifted Hughes full race Powerglide with trans brake hides a Marv Ripes A1 5600 stall (naturally aspirated) converter. This setup doesn’t care if it’s on the street or strip, performing flawlessly in both environments.

     Rearend: Allin Specialties started with a Strange 9” housing blank and built the rearend, stuffed with a Strange Ultra Case holding 3.70 Richmond Pro Gears, gun drilled 40 spline axles with profiled flanges and    5/8” drive studs, tucked into Strange billet housing ends. This bruiser employs (3/8” wall) 3 ¼” tubes, connected by a herculean Allin Specialties back brace. It’s holding up just fine to the 1,296 foot pounds, thank you very much.

Suspension: This is no tube framed racer with license plates. Homemade subframe connectors and an Allin Specialties chrome moly rollcage tie everything together, but it’s just your basic back-halved street car. The front suspension is stock for now, but for some A-arm trimming to clear the bump stops for travel. It’s a little more serious in back, where a Smith Racecraft 4-link kit was installed by Charlie, featuring Strange double adjustable coilovers, a wishbone locator and an anti-roll bar. Um, there are no wheelie bars…

Wheels/Tires: The focal point: 10.5W X 28 sticky Mickeys are clamped to 15 X 10 Champion Wheels with Top Fuel style double beadlocks, gripped by Strange 5/8” drive studs. Bringing the point full circle: 5 X 26 skinny Minnies ride on 4 X 15 Champs.

Interior: Gennie OEM statement is made inside, thanks to a relatively low key Allin Specialties rollcage, surrounding swap meet poly seats and Crow harnesses. There’s Autometer gauges and a B&M shifter – otherwise, it’s 1967 in here.

Paint/Body: This was the hook for Dan. His high school pal Rueben Weickum worked his magic on the F-body back then and it’s still working today. All Dan could tell us about it is there’s very little filler and the orange paint sizzles under the lights and pops in the sun. It’ll get your attention from a block away. The sheetmetal, chrome and glass is all original, except for the fiberglass hood.

Power: 924 horsepower and 1,296 foot pounds equals 9.07 @ 152 MPH in Dan’s 3,342 pound Camaro. And there’s more on the way. Will it be enough to go 8.50s? Stay tuned…

Midnight Oil: Shellski

Shellski with Sheila the Wonder Dog. Shellski's definitely the better driver of the two.

                                                             

This April, my girlfriend Shellski and I celebrated our sixth year together. Most of those have been the best years of my life (understatement), but there have been some wild rides. She’s an unlikely match for a knuckledragger like me. Being an artist, she was already somewhat acclimated to edgy characters and when she discovered that I’m a writer and a musician, she figured she had me pegged. I figured I had my foot in the door. When it started looking like we might actually be going somewhere, we had the Here’s Who I Really Am talk. I was shocked and disgusted by revelations such as: The day Shellski refused to go to school (for the whole day!); the time she… well, that’s it, really. Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath and blurted out my horrible dark secret: “I’m a lifelong hot rodder!” I closed my eyes tight and braced for the reaction of a Berkeley-bred intellectual. She was smitten! It turns out, Shellski has an adventurous side and has always been intrigued by power and speed. I must’ve exhaled for a good twenty seconds. For the first time in my life, I knew the true meaning of ‘Love’ and ‘Peace’.

The vehicle in question ('61 Morris Minor): 2100 pounds, 550 + horsepower. You do the math...

                                                            

The next few days were spent rumbling around town in the little hot rod. We slowly worked up from quick-tease throttle blips on surface streets to extended wide open banzai blasts down deserted country roads. The first time I really laid into it, I could barely hear the exhaust over her screaming (and that’s some LOUD exhaust). I glanced over to find her in a pre-orgasmic state of delight. I can only hope that memory stays with me after the last brain cell calcifies. We drove home that day with a trail of pink cartoon hearts trailing in our wake.

About a month later, we were returning from another “test session” when Shellski asked me (with her eyes) if she could drive the car. Just when I didn’t think I could be any happier. I dropped anchor right there and began the expert tutorial: “Squeeze this lever while pulling this one back to find first gear. This switch turns on the main power. Pump the throttle halfway, once. Hold down the starter button with your thumb, while using your pinkee to trip the ignition switch. Etc, etc, etc”. She was a natural! Within minutes, I was confident enough to strap myself into the passenger seat and we pulled out onto a two way city street. What a glorious moment! Bliss. With 3.90 gears and short tires, it didn’t take long (about 50 feet) to reach the top of first gear. Even when moseying along like this (just off idle), the 1-2 shift is an event in this car and I braced for it. Good, because next thing I know, we’re sideways in a cloud of rubber smoke and crossing over into oncoming traffic! “What the?!” A blur of frantic maneuvering got us pulled over to the shoulder, where the adrenaline-fueled questioning commenced:

Scotty: “What the?!”

Shellski: “You already said that”

Scotty: “Yeah, but… what the?!”

Shellski: “I think something might be wrong with the clutch”

Scotty: “What?!”

Shellski: “Well, it felt like it was time to shift into second”

Scotty: “Yeah, it was, but…”

Shellski: “So I pushed in the clutch before I shifted and man, it’s stiff! I couldn’t push it down much. Is that what made us slide like that?”

That’s right. Mr. Expert Driving Instructor had failed to inform the ‘natural born hot rod pilot’ that this car had an automatic transmission. And a brake pedal on the far left side. With the violent manually controlled shifts (full manual valve body, not to mention a trans brake and 5800 stall converter), Shellski had kept her eyes on the road (survival skill #1) and assumed I’d been clutching away like Ronnie Sox during those test runs. She assumed it was a stick. I assumed she was impressed with my race automatic. Valuable assumption lessons learned. It’s served us well ever since.

Within a week, Shellski was making full throttle passes and threading through traffic like an old pro. I swelled with pride, watching her wheel the car into coffee shop parking lots, as her baffled friends stared slackjawed with shock, suspicion and concern. Alas, the car is gone now, but Shellski’s still here. And we rarely make assumptions.

"Author"

Photo by Shellski

Now we enter into my least favorite aspect of the creative process: Promotion. I adhere to a more Buddist approach to creativity: Create your work with true inspiration and the good Karma will carry the finished product to wherever it's meant to go. Create with the loving care of a parent, then turn it loose to find its own way in the world. How that happens is supposed to be out of my hands. Yet I must be willing to do the legwork to enable the process.

So it was that I found myself at a local car event last weekend, hocking my wares like the hucksters I often judge and condemn. I'd tried for weeks to find a high zoot wagon to display at my booth (preferably one from my book), but it apparently wasn't meant to be. On the opening morning of the show, the promoter approached me with the concept of sharing my booth space with some women selling raffle tickets to raise funds for school supplies for foster children. The $10 tickets bought chances at winning a finished '56 Handyman, with a 327/TH-350 combo. It turned out, my pal Chris Darland (Chris' Hot Rodz) had built the car for a local collector who donated it to the foster kid people. It felt like the thing to do and turned out to be.

My financial backers insisted I write a bio to display with the books and this is what they got:

WARNING!          BOOK AUTHOR               WARNING!           

Born in a one-car garage he helped his father build in the shadow of Mt. Hood, automotive author Scotty Gosson was reportedly killed by a bear at Madras Drag Strip in 1966. Recently revealed records indicate Gosson was actually enrolled in an early experimental version of the witness protection program by the Oregon Department of Motor Vehicles in 1964. He studied passenger vehicle chassis dynamics at an undisclosed location until entering a work release program at a rural Jackson County wrecking yard in 1974.

Upon being ‘outed’ by an Oregonian newspaper expose on underground writer/fabricators in 1997, Gosson went mainstream, authoring feature articles in Hot Rod, Hot Rod Deluxe, Car Craft, Rod & Custom, Drag Racing USA, Goodguys Gazette and other periodicals.

Now living in Medford, Oregon, Scotty Gosson works as an author for CarTech Inc. His current effort, ‘America’s Coolest Station Wagons’, has been lauded as “Okay” by the New York Times Book Review and Time magazine trumpeted, “It could be worse”. Vogue gushed, “Doesn’t suck too bad”, while the San Francisco Chronicle refused to accept their copy of the book. In the midst of his 54^th year of zero consecutive Pulitzer Prize nominations (“Next year, for sure!”), Gosson’s next CarTech compilation, ‘Rat Rods (Rodding’s Imperfect Stepchildren)’ is due for a fall 2011 release.



This set the tone for my entry into corporate prostitution at an event I loathed, the Medford Cruise. Having grown up on Medford's streets in the 60s, it's torturous for me to hear this event promoted every year as a depiction of "Cruising, just like it was back in the day!" You bet. This "cruise" (like too many others across the country) is merely a parade on a couple miles of blocked off city streets at 5 MPH for the townfolk lining the sidewalks, hoping for more entertainment than that night's TV re-runs. Any of the behavior I'd once engaged in on those streets would get me instantly arrested (just like back in the day!) and scapegoated for "ruining it for all the 'real' car people". Gack!

But this was also my official coming out party as a bona fide author. I went with that and had a good time with the foster kid people and the curious who dropped by to see the book (including several encouraging friends). It was a pretty warm and fuzzy outing for this corporate whore.

                                                                     Photo by Shellski

I have more book events ahead this summer and this was a relaxed way to ease into my new role. Just for the record, I fried rubber all the way home after the final day of the show, then ran up the stairs to my office, where I clacked the keys for hours, in a desperate attempt to prove some integrity to myself, before falling asleep in a sweaty puddle of exhaustion.

Chances are, I'll eventually grow to accept promotion as necesarry to being self-supporting by my own contributions. That's one of my writing goals. Meanwhile, I'm the twitchy self concious guy, 'acting out' with smartass remarks delivered with a childish passive agressiveness. For everyone's sake, I hope to grow out of this phase soon.

                                                               Photo by Shellski
Photo by Shellski

                                                                                               Photo by Shellski

Drifters

It's been quiet around the blogsite lately. Too quiet... I'm thrashing like a mad fiend to make the deadline for "Rat Rods - Rodding's Imperfect Stepchildren" (for CarTech) and there hasn't been much time for anything else. So last weekend, I made some time to cleanse my palette and had some fun in the process.

One of my current independent book projects is "Racing to America" (working title), about overseas racers who come to run in the U.S. in a variety of motorsports. One of those niches is drifting. I connected with Sarah and Adam Burgess, Aussie drag racers who caught drift fever and are taking aim at the U.S. circuit this year. I've seen snippets of drift footage on TV and Youtube, but had yet to see this spectacle in person. So when I got word of a small local grassroots drift, it seemed like a great place to start my education. I was right.

The event was staged in the local fairgrounds parking lot. About 30 entries drew about 30 spectators, counting me. I arrived to find this day of the event (Saturday) was for testing, learning and generally jangling with friends and family. Things would get serious on Sunday, when competition commenced. Hanging at a local car event and not knowing anyone was a refreshing and surreal experience. Until I ran into Phil and Melissa Shreeve, casual acquaintances to me, who I had no clue were interested in cars at all. They had come to watch son Justin run, which is rare, as he's usually too busy videoing events for his Tandem of Die company (originally dubbed 'Tandem OR Die', they liked the quirkyness of the typo better). Now that I had an 'in' with some experts, I took full advantage and actually learned a bit about the subject. Phil and Melissa always struck me as nice folks and now I was really impressed with Justin - who went out of his way to make me feel welcome and insuring that I got a full access pass and the whole rock star treatment. I really like these guys. And I instantly dug the drifters - my new poster boys for grassroots motorsports, hanging it all out there for a rush and a grin. I just hope they haven't ruined Sarah Burgess and the pro corporate-level XDC Drift events for me.

                                             My hosts for the day, Phil and Melissa Shreeve.

                                                                     Justin Shreeve

These guys go through a thousand bucks worth of rubber faster than a cat can lick his ass with his tongue out and his tail up. Tire dealers are highly coveted sponsors.

Justin's Nissan is driven hard and put up wet, like every car there. He says the independent rear works "just fine" for drifting. These guys don't let anything get in their way - check the zip ties holding the glass nose together in foreground. Typical. This was shot while Justin helped with a front clip swap in the next pit over.

The lions share of cars at this grassroots level are daily drivers, with Nissan 240SX's being the weapon of choice for most competitors. Passengers are encouraged ("It's more fun, having someone to scare") and only a helmet is required.

Did I mention the Banzai mentality of these guys? Bumping into stuff (like each other) is the nature of the beast. No wonder this was such a rage on Tokyo streets - those guys were doing this to $10,000 paint jobs in drifting's infancy.

               The sheetmetal may no longer be beautiful (in the conventional sense), but it still drifts like a figure skater chasing gold at the Olympics.

                                                                I rest my case...

 After a day of this, I'm now a desciple of the Tandem of Die cult. Since this was just a practice day, I got to see as many as four cars at a time on the track, drifting only inches apart. Shouldn't NASCAR require a drift section on every track?

I turned and snapped one last image on my way out. Then it was back to work for the man. But it was fun playing hookey for a while and I even learned something. Bonus. Thanks Phil, Melissa and Justin!

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.