Tuesday, August 19, 2014

SECRET PERCIEVED REALITY EXPERIMENT # 97583: OBSERVING THE INVISIBLE

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The following is an observation, kind of an editorial, and perhaps a bit of a parable. It is not presented here for your amusement. I wrote it only because my muse threatened to abandon me if I didn't do it. - Scotty

The majesty of AA/FD has not been matched in our lifetimes. But that doesn't mean it can't happen. 

This isn't about X-Ray glasses. It's about reality as perceived by two dynamic individuals (whom I've never met) that have been toiling in separate solitude for years toward equally inspired goals of running Sixties-style fuel dragsters under present day circumstances. Both men possess mechanical skillsets, intellect, and drive far beyond my own (which isn't saying much). Yet I intuitively sensed a shared bond upon discovering them online, several years ago. The common denominator was our love of mechanical theater. The surrealism conjured by beautifully crafted machinery operating at the crest of annihilation. Equally as powerful as the chemical mix and sensory assault is the base human response to action. Concepts and theories may be intriguing, even exciting, but action equals reality. You wouldn't know it by our behavior, but we humans crave reality - more than ever in this golden age of escapist society (which reads friendlier than "denial" or "fear of reality").

The truer reality is rarely consciously recognized and is largely dismissed: Like the wind that blows across the track, we tend to only acknowledge it with plans to navigate around it. It's a rare day that we consider how screwed we'd be without the wind. We can't see it, yet we can't deny the proof of its existence. And so it is with the unseen-but-oh-so-real contagion of energy expended by goal oriented humans. My hypothesis: Honest emotion in action is just as real and powerful as the wind.

Subject A: A west coast artist and motorcycle builder, who also does cars and considers dragsters to be kinetic art. A five minute phone call five years ago transformed us into instant brothers (consider him the better looking sibling). (Photo courtesy of Subject A)

Subject B: A professional east coast race car driver and builder, who considers dragsters the essence of racing. Besides their shared experience and quest, the photos reveal an uncanny physical resemblance, as well. Coincidence? I don't believe in that. (Photo courtesy of Subject B)

I observed both subjects for a number of years before it finally occurred to me to connect the two last week, via Facebook. Where it goes from there is none of my business. At once so different and so alike, they might consider each other to be crackpots. My intuition was to introduce them and step out of the way. My hope is that they'll team up to give the status quo a one-two kick to the nuts, and reinvent drag racing in the process. My suspicion is that both parties are open to the possibilities of a mutual energy exchange. But I have no expectations. Anything could happen. Neither party is yet aware of this experiment. I'll observe both subjects and report the developments here. Meanwhile, I feel creepy about conducting secret experiments on the unsuspecting. But the data must be as pure as the wind to be of value. Perceived reality won't cut it in real world testing.
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Perceived reality: Brett Favre and John Force are as disparate as fish and bicycles. True reality: There's a reason these two have never been spotted together. They're basically the same person. Both have amassed  unprecedented fan bases, due to their purity of passion. Love 'em or hate 'em, no two figures in sports history have displayed such giddy love for their craft and ridden it to such high levels of success. Their aim is true. True reality #2: It's no coincidence that Force's bobble head bears such a resemblance to Austin Coil. 

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While I was busy with my little experiment, Motormouth Ray was unwittingly stumbling across one that he had initiated years earlier. It's still bearing sweet fruit today. Take it, Ray...


There was a very popular speed shop in Valley Stream Long Island (one town over from us) that I used to go to when I was in high school. The name of the shop was Hi-Speed Equipment, and the owner was a very wise and crafty man named Frank Dominianni. I just went there to buy small items, because I couldn't afford his knowledge of early Corvette fuel injection systems, nor a pull on his Clayton dyno.

Fast forward to 2005, when I happened to see the front door of the dilapidated shop open. I wondered if it was being sold or emptied, as it hadn't been a working shop in many years. I walked over and immediately recognized the notably older Frank, sitting behind the desk. Cut to the chase: Frank had kept the shop and went there every day - rain or shine - just to keep a schedule. We became fast friends, and had many deep conversations about life, love, and the state of the world at large. We shared some deep mother issues.

We had Frank on the show once, in 2005 (see link on the Motor Mouth Radio home page), but I was never able to coerce him to come on again, due to his shyness. Frank passed away a few years ago, but his son Joe regularly sends me tidbits he finds while going through the contents of Frank's life (and he saved everything!). I could give you volumes of information on this iconic racer/fabricator/mechanic, but we'll get to that later. For now, I want to share with you a document that Frank received in 1963 and filed away. This is cool stuff...



(Photos courtesy of Motormouth Ray) (Images courtesy of Frank  Dominianni)

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UPDATES

Testosterone was abundant last Thursday night at the little pawn shop around the corner from SGE Headquarters. So I scurried over to see what the window rattling was all about.

Rare gathering of the heaviest hitters in the valley. Each of these cars have been rubbed on at Allin Specialties (where I worked for a while). That's proprietor/horsepower whisperer Charlie Allin, in front of the black El Camino. Clean and mean is his signature.


(Scotty shots)


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Jim Lindsay took advantage of the landspeed racing event downtime to take the first baby steps in his Modified Roadster at Woodburn Drag Strip last week. Bystanders were amused, as was Lindsay. Chassis builder Marty Strode reports, "The plan was some easy checkout runs to make sure the air-shifted tranny would work, and to get a general feel for the car. Jim flopped the quickchange gears from 2.47 to 5.77. The first run was a cruising 96 MPH, and the second was about the same. He seems very comfortable in the car, and we had a great day!"

Transmission and rest of drivetrain performed drama-free.

Strode and Lindsay, testing salt apparel under controlled conditions. No wardrobe malfunctions were reported. (Photos courtesy of Marty Strode)

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Still just baby steps on the SGE Model A project. But we had fresh background music last week, as the Scotty Gosson Combo CD is finally done! It should be available at www.createspace.com sometime next week.

All four wishbones are now bent to shape and tacked in place...

... and we started making a nifty bracket to mount a torque arm to the crusty old banjo housing. And that's about it, lately. Hey, summer is revving up for the big finale and we've been busy, okay?

But here's the official Custom Metal portrait of Buddy the shop dog. Doc and I took shared custody, after rescuing him from a crazed body man (sad but true) as a puppy. He's been living the sweet life at Doc's ever since. Buddy and I are both graying and slowing down, as Doc somehow becomes younger every year. (Scotty shots)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

Squirrels and acorns. Right up there with Force and Favre. All part of the natural order.

Plucky British company Van Dorne produced these gems through the early 1930s, then were bought out by bullish yanks Black & Decker.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

The future of drag racing? Experts are working on it as you read this. Crossing your fingers is a nice gesture, but nothing makes things happen like action. Vote with your event admission dollars. (Image courtesy of the incomparable Gary Campesi)

More action from Valley Pawn's Thursday night gearhead gatherings...





Bonus info: Chevy pickups hauling motorsickles are this week's hot trend. You saw it here first (you know how we pride ourselves on being trendy)! (Scotty shots)


DEDICATED TO SHEILA THE WONDER DOG 2002 - 2014  (Shellski shot)



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Tuesday, August 12, 2014

HANGIN' AROUND A GHOST TOWN 7-11

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The Wendover Times ran this piece on a local tourist attraction, as the global migration to Speed Week transformed the remote casino town into a thriving metropolis for 72 hours. Then the rains washed away the racers and scenesters, leaving Wendover as isolated and ghostly as ever, amid the salty winds that sing through the power lines. 


August 3rd. Baked to crispy perfection and ready for grooming.

August 4th. The SCTA's travelling beauty parlor. These guys may put in more time prepping for these events than all racers combined.

We claim this land in the name of speed. Unless someone faster comes along, of course.


Revelers at The Bend In The Road, lined up on August 7th for opening day on the 9th.


 Morning light reveals the beautiful ugly reality of opening day. By Saturday afternoon, the event was officially cancelled. (Images courtesy of SCTA)


Besides the 500 MPH contenders, the little guys also arrived loaded for bear. Jim Lindsay's roadster still reeked of welding and paint fumes.


Lindsay and company make final preparations in traditional fashion, employing a casino parking spot for pit duty.


The race car was ultimately covered and forgotten, as Lindsay and fellow racers shifted into social mode. By all accounts, a great time was had by all. The whereabouts of brother Tom's Shetland pit bike are unknown, but Jim made do with this borrowed mount. Good to see that the Rolling Bones are still enjoying service from Dave Lyon's old '40 delivery (in background).


Jim Lindsay's take on the event that wasn't: "It was a nice visit, I'll say that." (Photos courtesy of Jim Lindsay)

It was the greatest event that ever never happened. Anticipation of this year's SCTA/BNI Speed Week had been building since the first timed runs across the salt in 1914. In one short century, Speed Week had become so much to so many, that the 2014 edition simply couldn't have delivered. There's no way it could have lived up to the hype emanating from media, racers and fans alike. So the Salt Gods delivered a reality spanking instead, lest we completely lose our perspectives. The 2015 event will no doubt be approached with less romance and more realistic (if any) expectations.

But there's no need to suffer through another year to experience epic achievements on the salt. Despite wasted vacation time and other jangled logistics, many of the hitters constituting this year's all-star lineup will be back for the World Finals event in late September or early October. Mike Cook's private Shootout is also on the calendar (check the SCTA Facebook page for updates). So 500 MPH remains this year's bullseye. I hope to witness those attempts in person, but my plans for covering Speed Week were dashed before I got out of the driveway, so I'm approaching these bonus events with caution. When my Speed Week odyssey scheme didn't pan out, I went down to the 7-11 and camped out at the magazine rack. It was a pleasant escape, until an event transpired that reminded me there is no escape.

Once I'd had my fill of atomic hot dogs, was up to my ankles in Powerball scratch-offs, and had dog-eared every automotive magazine on the rack, I returned to the SGE campus and locked myself in the bunker. I enjoyed several cat videos online before chancing onto a cosmic event on Facebook. First, I saw firsthand cellphone coverage of the storm that drowned Speed Week. The Tony Stewart Sprint Car incident was everywhere, but we're withholding comment until the dust settles a bit. Then, Jim Lindsay posted a photo of a wicked '34 Ford 5-window drag car that he'd lifted from Dick Page's site. Dale Seaholm replied with a mention that his personal coupe project had been inspired by the one that mutual pal Jim Lindsay had posted. And we all went down the rabbit hole together.

The photo Jim Lindsay posted (via magazine scribe Dick Page) that triggered a snowball effect. This image was apparently captured during the coupe's brief Rucker & Mackle tenure.  Not sure which lucky co-owner is posed with the car here. (Photo courtesy of Dick Page)


Dale Seaholm's 5-window, looking very right in advanced stage of the build. Seaholm is one of those Facebook Friends whom I've never met, yet feel a solid connection with. Now I know what that was all about. Dale said he based his chop on the Peckerhead club's 7-11 coupe, with their approval and assistance. I'm familiar with the Peckerheads' car, and in fact, have a very strong emotional attachment to it. (Photo courtesy of Dale Seaholm)


I posted to Lindsay's thread that the depicted coupe bore a strong resemblance to Phil Turgeson's 712 coupe (built in '59 with a full house flathead). Seaholm responded in agreement, and photo comparisons were made. Sure enough, we had a match. The distinctive downward sloped one-piece nose gave it away. Page's photo was taken a year after this shot of Turgeson being staged, perhaps at Pomona. I'd seen this image online before. Turgeson built the car at NHRA lynch-pin Jack Hart's Texaco station in Santa Ana. The heart/lightning bolt on the grille was the Hart's Automotive logo. (Photo courtesy of Dale Seaholm)


Then Seaholm surprised me with this photo, which I'd never before  seen. Perhaps an SGE reader with actual memory cells can identify this location. My guess would be Pappy Hart's Santa Ana strip. And I'd have to assume this is an earlier iteration of Turgeson's tenure with the car (before the 12-spokes and Halibrands). (Photo courtesy of Dale Seaholm)


Sports Illustrated ran this shot in a late-1961 issue. Kent Singleton had just taken ownership, and the decklid was lettered "Singleton-Carrillo-Nelson". Their "Headhunters" car club was later mentioned on the quarter panels. They swapped the flathead for a Chet Herbert blown alky smallblock Chevy. (Photo courtesy of Mike Dowell collection)


When the Headhunters used up the coupe and bid it adieu, it vanished and hasn't been seen since. Kent Singleton's younger brother Mike Dowell and his partner Curt Vaught decided to build a recreation in 1994, after an exhaustive search for the original (detailed in my Sept. 2005 R&C piece "Laughin' Bones"). The majority of the chassis work was performed at local legend Bill Comstock's shop. Chet Herbert and Zane Shubert donated parts to recreate their old 357" monster mouse. Dr. Lockjaw and other fabricators donated various chores. This is when I staggered into the story, blindly volunteering grunt labor and magazine ink. I caught the car at Mike Dowell's home garage during final mock-up. It remained in this iteration for a couple of years. (Scotty shots)


Curt Vaught was the designated driver, but when early guardrail-to-guardrail 146 MPH passes proved more dramatic than quick (low tens), Dowell plugged various stunt doubles into the seat, including yours truly, shown here just before charging into the field at the end of Woodburn Dragstrip with no steering. I plowed up some beans or something, but did no real damage, except to my ego (I lost to Dr. Lockjaw's Tetanus II on this run). (Unfortunately the photographer's name has been forgotten. My apologies!)


Eventually, the car got paint, and polish on the mags. It looked better, but never really ran to its potential. I shot this from the tower while announcing at Champion Raceway one evening. (Scotty shot)


The 7-11 was bought by the Peckerheads club in California. These guys really got it figured out! Wheelie bars are now mandatory. Low 9's are par. When Drew Hardin took the Hot Rod Deluxe Editor's chair, he dispatched Paul Sadler to shoot the refurbished coupe, and I was to revisit it in text. Alas, for reasons unclear, my Peckerhead connection pulled the plug on the project. And so continues the curious mystery of the 7-11. (Photo courtesy of Paul Sadler)

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When my Speed Week plans were cancelled, I accepted the invitation to join Saint Shellski in celebrating her dad's 86th birthday in San Francisco. It was an epic blowout, as always. But it left precious little time for this report. Now that it's done, I plan on taking a nap. Join us next week, when we return to squirrels, toolboxes, and the usual tomfoolery. Hopefully with fewer technical glitches than this spastic post. And maybe even with some actual news reports. Thanks for your understanding.



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