RUNNIN' ON FUMES

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This is Fillup Phillip. Dave Deal concocted him in a fruitless effort to polish Union 76's tarnished image during the so-called oil crisis of the Seventies. Today I find Phillip to be a fine representative of my current condition: A bit stiff, and bloated with fumes, but still smiling. (Image courtesy of Dave "Big" Deal)

For the tenth year in a row, my girlfriend Shellski and I have endured brutal April Fools deadlines. We both have several deadlines to meet in the course of a year, but the April ones seem to come at the worst possible time: April. We spend our winters pushing unpleasant tasks aside until April, then must face the consequences of our procrastination. Gack! Last week's abbreviated blog post was written under duress due to that setup, whereas today's post was composed in the fragile course of the recovery process. Shellski and I both have full and rich lives outside of our work, which often leaves us baffled at how the hell we stuff it all in. So I've retraced my last week's steps in search of some insight. I found little to explain my fatigue, but please let me know if you notice some kind of red flag pattern here, okay? Thanks.

Sunday morning in Shellski's studio. Shellski is a jewelry artist. She's been at it a long time, and is very good. Consequently, it's hard to keep up with the orders. We're both blessed/stressed that way. 

Her new dog Rosie bombed Shellski's selfie attempt as I was making a break for Dr. Lockjaw's place. I haven't seen the gals since, but have been in sporadic telephone contact. They blew town to visit relatives in California for Easter. Last week's post covered my Sunday visit to The Doctor's office, so we'll jump forward to Monday, where I clocked into the office at 8:00 AM.

Late Monday night. Body text and photo captions done for the latest CarTech deadline (for the halfway point of the book). I knew it was about deadline time when the words began swimming after each other across my electronic aquarium. Hallucinations are mesmerizing fun!

Later Monday night (nearing sunrise). My reward for surviving another deadline. Be it ever so humble, that little bed is a mean Z machine. 

Tuesday morning. Thirteen hours of sleep later, I'm back on it, but just chugging along in first gear. 

Tuesday afternoon at Harvey Foster's house, scrounging for a tapered, splined and threaded steering shaft, so I can positively attach the steering wheel on the SGE Model A. There should be one in there somewhere. As it turned out, there were several, but only one like I needed. And Harvey knew right where it was. 

Harvey never lifts. This is as slow as he goes, and it's just too fast for me to keep up (that obviously goes for my archaic Acme camera, too). He's driven by an operatic love/hate relationship with rust. He buys the stuff by the ton, then grinds it all away.

The roughed-in '36 Ford torque tube and axle are typical examples of Harvey's work. He spends ungodly hours polishing this stuff for customers around the globe.

Harvey recently took on this epic sheetmetal job. He started at the rear and is slowly working his way forward. We'll check back with you next year, Harvey. Thanks again for giving me the (steering) shaft!

Wednesday was one of those fruitless research days, but that evening found me back at James Drive Studios (Rob James' one-car garage) where the new Scotty Gosson Combo album is being recorded. Rob somehow caught this image of me shredding while he was going all octopus on the skins. The guy is amazing! We now have the basic tracks down, and will begin mixing soon. Meanwhile, uber badass hot rod artist Jimmy Smith has provided uber badass cover art for the album! We're so stoked! Wait'll you get a load of this imagery...

Thursday was another dry day of research (so it goes), but I enjoyed my lunch break: Instead of a shop, I have a space in a parking garage (yes, my urbanization is now complete), so that's where I went for therapy. The steering shaft I got from Harvey was a tad rusty, so I spent a few minutes cleaning it up, as crusty parts are not welcome at the Custom Metal shop, where this thing is headed. Note steering box at other end of shaft, leaking black grease throughout trunk area. 

Despite suspicious glances from fellow paying parkers, I was able to remove the top layer of rust with my trusty battery post cleaner, allowing the test nut to engage almost halfway before hitting a mangled thread. Having left my tap and die set in my other pants, my work here was done. And that's about as interesting as Thursday got.

On Fridays, I deliver print periodicals around the Rogue Valley for supplemental income. My route takes me right past the evil White City Metals (they might as well sell crack), so I pulled over to check my list of materials needed for the Model A project. The list was long, but the budget was short, so I moved on.

From the blue collar industrial White City, I headed to rural Sams Valley, which is always a refreshing break from the grind.

Typical roadside distraction in Sams Valley.

Back in town, yet another truck spotting.

Dang. I hit the truck jackpot on Friday. 

Tom's Guitar Shop happens to be on my route, so I always take a minute to check the inventory and benchjam with the crew. This is a dangerous stop for me. It's slippery in there, if you're scoopin' what I'm poopin', Jackson.

Friday night it was back to James Drive Studio for a last minute addition to the new album. Six months ago, I began making payments on this '56 Harmony archtop and finally got it paid off (thanks to Tom's Guitars' EZ Payment program). I've been dying to use it on some swing numbers, and am stoked to report that it plays like a dream and records even better! 

Saturday morning, it was back on the road to finish the delivery route. I spied this '57 'brown sedan" waiting for the liquor store to open in quaint Talent, Oregon, a former bareknuckle berg, currently enjoying a renaissance as an arts community. 

From Talent, I buzzed over to the 1840's gold mining town of Jacksonville. The main drag (seen here) is pretty much unchanged, while the rest of the town has sprouted quasi-retro-styled new housing in recent years. J-ville is the finish line for the route. I went home and wrote a few paragraphs for the book, then blasted over to Shellski's place to provide security while she and Rosie are out of town.

Okay, I give up. It's Truck Week on the blog. This Dodge jumped out at me while driving through Jacksonville en route to Dr. Lockjaw's place on Sunday morning. The young builder (left) gives hot rod legend Rotten Roy Wiltse (right) the tour. The old Ram had some fun elements.

The built 360 got my respect.

And I liked this approach to dealing with the spare tire well. Bonus points: The guy's dad bought the truck new from a local dealer. It was retired to his field about 20 years ago, with an agreement that the kid wouldn't touch it until the dad passed away. That happened about a year and a half ago, and here we are.

Finally at Custom Metal. Doc took Security Guard Bob to town for a media blast last week, and he cleaned up real nice. Let the restoration begin!

Despite our best intentions, Easter activities cut this week's fab session short. We determined the steering wheel was incompatible with the shaft I got from Harvey, and a Speedway Motors tie rod end I'd bought had manufacturing defects that deemed it junk (beware!). But we made a drag link. Then my camera went wonky during the photo shoot. So it goes. We hope to add a tie rod next week, and cut some more ugly off the front suspension.

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

Shellski and Rosie spotted this wall mosaic while strolling through Berkeley on Easter Sunday. Can you spot the squirrel in this image, kids? (Photo courtesy of Shellski)

The Matt Hardesty photo shoot that landed his brother's Fox body on the cover of 5.0 Mustangs magazine. Can you spot the SnapOn toolbox in this image, guys? (Photo courtesy of Matt Hardesty)


GRIN

Special Easter edition Grin: Can you spot the gas station in this image? Trick question! There is none. ("When Fairy Tales Collide" image courtesy of Todd Schorr)

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THE CURSE OF THE LIBRA

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A typical Libra. There is no right or wrong way to haul ass toward a deadline. But it probably helps to know if you're coming or going. I wouldn't know about that. (Photo courtesy of Jim Lindsay)


Woe be the hapless Libra. Tirelessly devoting equal time to both sides of any story, we Libras pay an excruciating price for our bipartisanship: The burden of an inherent and crippling character defect, known to the medical community as "Indecisiveness". This malady explains the loneliness of the Libra. No one wants to go to the parts store, burger joint, or anywhere else with someone so easily overwhelmed by the simplest choices. That's the stereotype, anyway. In reality, Libras are... well okay, I guess they're stereotypes. Cliches, even. Okay, not exactly cliches, but definitely typecast. No, wait - only thespian Libras can be typecast. One could argue that Libras are born in as pure a state as anyone - free of labels such as astrological signs - yet are expected to passively accept the world's preconceived perceptions of them, based solely on their birth dates. In that sense, Libras are absolutely victims of a herd mentality-based society comprised largely of non-Librans. Conversely, any Libra is free to choose whether (or not) to buy into such classificationism.

So today, I take a stand for a new Libraism. An evolved Libra, focused and decisive, who is clear on what he (or she) does (or does not) want (or need). Exhibit A: I do not want to work another day under deadline conditions - I need some rest. Of course, I also want to get paid - Mr. Landlord is losing patience with me. Screw the new Libraism. These choices are paralyzing.

Fine. I should probably go back to work, but something has to give. So today, I guess it's going to be the blog. This post will be short but sweet. Abbreviated. Succinct. To the point. Direct. Concise. Blunt. Brusque, even. And discursive. Heavy on the discursive, for sure.


UPDATE

See ya 'round, leakers! I'm off to Fantasyland. Nineteen years after starting this project, we finally slid the test dummy into the car! You can send those congratulatory cards and letters to General Delivery, Scottyville, USA. (Photo courtesy of Dr. Lockjaw)

Last Sunday at Dr. Lockjaw's Custom Metal shop, we made some hard decisions that determined the course of this project. First, we finally decided on floor-mounted pedals, which dictated an overhead steering shaft support (long story, that). I cut a length of 1 1/4" tubing, which we bent up in Doc's hand-crank tubing bender (in background). Doc is marking the ends for fish-mouthing here, which was performed with hand grinders, just because neither of us were up for walking clear across the shop to get the tubing notcher. Handy tip:Energy conservation is key to efficient fabrication. 

Then we decided to mill flats on a length of 3/4" solid cold-rolled rod that I scored the other day for a steering shaft. Doc cranks up the Bridgeport and proceeds to spoil me rotten (I've been around them for many years now, but mills and lathes still strike me as exotica). Of course, I'm impressed with any shop that has electricity. 

Doc Dykemmed the end of the rod, found the center, and scribed the approximate cut depth. Final sizing was achieved via trail-and-error fitment.

The shaft will slide into this steering u-joint. For my rare and treasured non-fabrication friends, this opening is called a Double-D style. The other end of the u-joint employs a female-splined opening to match the male-splines on the steering box. The stud at right of the Double-D end will thread into a detent in the installed Double-D shaft to positively lock the assembly together for safety, then the locknut is tightened to hold the stud in place. Make sense? During this step, it was decided that I should put more effort into shooting photos in focus. I'll make that my next New Year's resolution. (I'm lying).

All of the pieces coexist in harmony, and u-joint angle is acceptable, if a bit more pronounced than I had hoped for. The fix is to aim the shaft skyward, or re-mount the steering box. Like I said, the angle is acceptable. At this stage, we decided to go to lunch.

After a lunch that couldn't be beat, we found a cast-off piece of square tube in the trash can and turned it into a steering shaft support bracket. We decided to do it the old fashioned way, so you won't think we're getting all uppity with the mill. Note: Hand model is experienced professional. Do not attempt. A nanosecond after this shot, I was fashioning a tourniquet from a greasy shop rag, but sadly, got no photos of it. 

After applying the tourniquet to Doc's severed wrist, we ended up with this bracket to mount the jumbo 3/4" heim joint, which will hold our steering shaft...

... like so. 

We crowned the shaft with a crusty old '37 Chevy wheel that I semi-restored, and presto! The dots are now connected. And that's all there is to assembling a steering shaft. Next week: Back to the previous week's goal of fabbing a drag link and tie rod. If Doc's wrist is functioning by then. 

With that, Doc decided to squirm into his Deuce and fry rubber to Three Rivers Hospital in Grants Pass. I haven't spoken to him since Sunday, but he's probably doing just fine. 

The last I saw of Doc. Piloting the coolest ambulance ever. Siren courtesy of Cragar 4-71.  (Scotty shots)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

A squirrel.

A toolbox.


GRIN

(Courtesy of Motormouth Ray)

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A TWISTED FRUSTRATION

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These are my people. This is my playground. That should be me behind the wheel. (Photographer unknown)

SGE World Headquarters, Medford, Oregon. March 19th, 2015. 12:37 AM.

It's been a productive day of work on the latest Cartech book project, but I knocked off early to scribble out this blog post. In the last hour, three rowdy street brawlers have rattled my third story window. Each of them blipped the throttle and shed some rubber as they passed. It's hard to resist using downtown buildings for echo chambers, but my ego interpreted the barking M/Ts and Flowmasters as taunting personal shout outs. Tis the season. Again.

Twice a year I do battle with the big bad deadline monster, and twice a year it hands my ass to me. The work always gets in on time, but each deadline takes a bigger bite. That monster insists on eating well, and I don't know how many more servings I have left in me. True confession: While experiencing sleep deprivation and the other associated symptoms of Deadline Fever, I sometimes indulge in a moment of frustration. Spring has sprung, and all of my playmates seem to be out there living the life, while I'm chained to this keyboard. I want to go out and play too, damn it! My Model A project is growing cobwebs and rust, while everyone else is giddily blasting through paradise. That's how it feels when I'm rundown, anyway. In reality, I'm doing what I love every day, and getting paid for it. I am such a prima donna. I even have a car project that I don't deserve. In these moments, I look within and feel frustration at my lack of gratitude. For that, I look to my old friend, Ron Austin.

You gotta start somewhere. Twisty Ron Austin hasn't been able to wipe the grin off his face since striking his first professional arc only a few years back. When approached by Dave Sattem two years ago to rehab Dave's tired '33 Willys bracketeer, this is where Ron started. That two year ET could have been halved, if not for Ron's 50-hour workweeks at a local powder coating company, but those days are behind him now. Sattem's finished Willys looks even better than this initial sketch. So says more than one panel of judges, anyway. Regarding his artistic prowess, Twisty quips, "I don't think Foose has anything to worry about."

Sattem's coupe was squeezed into Twisty's home garage, and ride height was determined during this preliminary mock-up session.

The first chrome moly tubes were gathered around a gutted Chevy big block, and suspension points were tossed around. That's actually gross understatement, as major hours were burned pinpointing each component's exact location before a single spark was launched across Twisty's shop. It's time consuming work, and Austin is more demanding of precision than the average bear.

The harder Austin worked, the more tubing piled up in the Willys' miniscule interior. Twisty: "At this point, I am seriously trying to understand why anyone would build a door car, but it's too late to turn back now. You say you want to be a TIG welder?"

Then Austin covered his work with aluminum. The body was off and on myriad times to check for perfect fitment of the rollcage. No small feat in a one-man shop.

Hey Twisty, hold this microphone - I gotta go take a leak. "Um, okay. The sound system was the last step before disassembly. Next, it was time to frost the cake!" Well put, my friend.

Tasty frosting! Twisty's powder coating experience has its perks. Twisty: "Yeah, it's amazing what a little color does to a project." (Photos courtesy of Twisty Ron Austin)

Dave Sattem was so pleased with the finished car that he entered it in the 2015 Boise Roadster Show, where it received a Best in Class trophy. Who'da thunk it? (Photo courtesy of Kenny Welch)

BREAKING NEWS: This just in from Twisty Ron, reporting live from the Portland Roadster Show: "Dave Sattem's Willys took Best in Class and Best Competition entry in Portland!" Thanks Twisty, and congrats to all parties involved. The new chassis hasn't even crossed the starting line yet, but has already established itself as a winner. Today's Oregonian newspaper headline: "Greasy Sportsman racers steal trophy from touring pros!" Now that Sattem has had time to brush the angel hair off of his firesuit, we're hoping for initial test results from Woodburn Drag Strip. Let's get with the program and chip that paint, Dave! Twisty Ron Austin's thoughts on the build: "I'm really happy with how this project turned out. If Dave would have let me name the car, I don't think I could have picked a better one. Pretty much sums it up." (Photo courtesy of Twisty)

Bonus shot: Twisty (left) made a guest appearance at author Jim Lindsay's booth while at the Rose City show. That's Lindsay's "The Little Bastards" book in the background. The biggest damn book I ever saw! I knew Jim was interested in publishing it in a large print format, but this seems a little over-the-top. Just my opinion. (Photo courtesy of Tami "Krankypants" Austin, who bagged two racing legends with one shot.)


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UPDATES

When last we saw Lance Sorchik's '33 roadster, it was completely fitted together for the first time -basically an assembled sheetmetal jigsaw puzzle. How to celebrate such a milestone? Tear it all apart again! That's what Lance did, so he could clean and paint all components in preparation for that most sacred of hot rod rituals, the final assembly. 

The trick chassis that Lance built with his pal Jesse Coots at Old Soul Hot Rod Shop in LeRoy, New York is now showing it's true colors and both of them are black - flat and shiny. While this dynamic overhead shot shows the sexy symmetry of the layout, the details reveal the spirit of the build. Look and learn.

Lance reports the roadster now starts and stops just like a real car, and he's stoked for a test drive. As kinky as the components are (torsion bar suspension Divco wheels, etc), our favorite part is the joy of the build that is present in the overall vibe and in every detail. It's this close to being driveable (thumb and forefinger nearly touching), but that will have to wait until Lance and wife Diane return from their latest exotic overseas adventure. Consider this scenario to be "luxury frustration". And expect burnout shots in a few weeks, right here. (Photos courtesy of Lance Sorchik)

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The Custom Metal fabrication shop in Applegate, Oregon. Proprietor Dr. Lockjaw (AKA Jamie Ford, but everyone knows him as Nancy) has been toiling for months on this frame for a customer's '41 Willys street/strip coupe. Until recently, it was a complete rolling chassis, with drivetrain (6-71 blown BBC, etc.) and fiberglass body mounted. Now it's finally blown apart for final welding (with an assist from Twisty Ron Austin himself, who fabbed-up the beautiful 9" Ford housing, though I'm not sure that he mounted it properly), and will soon go down the road for paint and upholstery. I learned a lot from watching the doctor's approach to this patient. The energy expended on this build went way beyond the customer's comprehension. That's how it usually goes.

When we turned off the lights last week at Custom Metal, the SGE Model A had a Corvair steering box precariously perched on a tube tacked to the frame rail. This week, we added some stability.

I had picked up a remnant of 1/4" steel at the scrapyard to make a brace for the steering box mount, but it was a couple inches shy of the desired width. Doh! I knew I shouldn't have used that metric tape measure. Luckily, a shard of scrap from Doc's trash can saved the day.

We whipped up a cardboard template of the desired mount and Doc transferred the shape to the steel.

We had scribbled a loose reference to a required access hole for worm-and-sector lash adjustment, and suddenly, without warning, this happened...

A pleasing image, yet I can't help but find it to be derivative of Spike Kilmer's early work. This was surprising, as Doc is a longtime Chris Cooper aspirant. But inspiration knows no brand loyalty.

 A test fitting of our massive brace showed we were on target. Note curved tube holding platform in place. I've been saving my pennies and blew them on that trick Sweet Manufacturing u-joint. 

The shop grunt was dispatched to remove any material that didn't look like a steering box mount...

... and the mount, she's all done! For the moment, anyway. Final welding will happen later. Never before has such an expanse of heavy steel invaded any of my cars. But we shook the hell out of it and found it to be very rigid. Doc tried to cheer me up by suggesting the piece double as a mounting point for electrical gear. I suppose 15 pounds of steel is sufficient to handle 12 ounces of wiring. Next Week: The steering shaft, wheel, and drag link! Sounds racy... 

Here's the thing. Doc has been accruing his knowledge and skills since birth. So why should he share that experience with a know-nothing like me? He says it's more important to him to pass it on than to keep it secret from any perceived competitors. And all he asks in return is that I pass it on to the next person. To any aspiring hot rodders viewing this blog: Once you get your head around this stuff, you know what you have to do. Doc says it's a small price to pay for the fun. I agree. Thanks Doc! (Scotty shots)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

The rumor mill in Glendora, California has been cranked up yet again. Our sources report that NHRA head coyote Tom Compton has decreed all back-up girls be replaced with squirrels, effective immediately. SGE reporter Mr. X notes Compton's comment overheard during a phone call from a Chevron restroom stall in West Covina: "I know they're on the fence right now, but these guys will move fast. They ain't no Easter egg chicks." You heard it here first. (Photo courtesy of Mr. X)

The same box that film maker Faith Granger keeps under the seat of her Deuce of Spades roadster also handles her home repair needs. Humble, but effective.

For reference, here's Faith and the roadster at El Mirage. She's currently working on the sequel to the Deuce of Spades movie. Keep an ear tuned for snippets of some Scotty Gosson Combo tunes in the soundtrack. (Photos courtesy of Faith Granger)


GRIN


Joe Borer's Marlin and Goat may have been among the herd of street animals calling me out tonight. Bullies!

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