MOBILE!

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Tis the season. Summer is when the tires get rotated. But where shall we go?

For four years, our progress could only be measured in wobbly baby steps. Then, last week, the staggering suddenly delivered us to somewhere palpable: The SGE Model A project became mobile. We had ourselves a rolling chassis.

After decades of building and driving twitchy high-strung street/strip cars, I was overdue for a relaxing gas sipper that I could drive cross-country in relative comfort, with confidence. The proposed vehicle would, by necessity, be a low-buck beater, built largely from other's cast-off parts. The chassis and body components were gathered in 1997, then stored in a field at my best friend's rural property. For fourteen years. That friend, James "Jamie" Ford (better known as Dr. Lockjaw), began clearing scrap metal from his farm in 2011 and found my dream car buried in the weeds. He could have cashed-in at the scrapyard, but instead offered the use of his Custom Metal hot rod fabrication emporium to build the car. That generous gesture stops short of explaining why Dr. Lockjaw is the best friend anyone ever had, but it does illustrate his character. Doc is one of the good guys.

Today, the chassis is about 95% complete, and it rolls around. Okay, it wobbles along. My first thought: Where to? I've been itching to rattle down the road in this thing since 1997, but hadn't considered where the maiden voyage might lead to. That question was answered by an unexpected source, as usual. Join us now for the first miles of what will hopefully be a long and wondrous journey.

When we turned off the lights at Custom Metal last week, I took one last shot of the roller on my way out. The pile of tubing I refer to as a '31 Ford Sport Touring wasted valuable space in the shop all week. Doc needs it gone, so he can commence work on his next top secret project (which I cannot reveal, due to a signed and notarized gag order).

This Tuesday morning, fellow hot rod crazy Allen Stewart arrived at Custom Metal in a Chevy Tahoe (basically an altered wheelbase Suburban), pulling a 16' trailer. Allen knew of my plight (I had nowhere to put the car), and offered a storage spot on his property.

It didn't take us all day to load my rusty scrap metal on the trailer. Note '39 Ford trailer light. Stylin'!

(L-R: Doc, Allen, and Linda [Mrs. Doc]) We've been saying hellos and goodbyes for nearly twenty years now, but this one felt different. It seems the Model A project had become our common denominator, and now it was gone... 

... as were Allen and I. The Tahoe ride to Allen's was akin to driving a sumptuous couch down the road. 

Air conditioning, music on the stereo, and dancing girls! My friends spoil me so...

Allen shared a treasure trove of incredible rodding and racing stories...

... but my focus was really on the Model A's first drive. It handled the corners surprisingly well (considering it has no shocks), got incredible mileage, and was whisper quiet. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of godforsaken shithole it's new home might be. I braced for the worst...

...and was stunned when Allen waved a finger at this structure and growled, "There it is." I instantly released 35 psi of stress. It has a roof!

Up close and personal, the rustic open-faced lodge in the woods was indeed very inviting. We grunted the chassis off of the trailer and wrestled it uphill to the shop, through mud and gravel. (Note to self: Install and adjust steering stops). 

Home sweet home. And what a swanky joint! Allen granted me access to the blast cabinet, solvent tank, hydraulic press, welder, and air compressor. Didn't see that coming! Room mates (left) include an under-construction hot rod Baja Bug, and a '65 Mustang coupe in mid-resto. To the left of those guys is a luxurious office, fully stocked with Allen's lifetime collection of car magazines, and a working refrigerator. I guess the A-bone and I can tough it out here until we find permanent shelter. Thanks, Allen!

If you need me for anything, just look under the Mobile Pegasus. I'm planning on some quality time there this summer. Happy motoring!

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

MUST PROVIDE VALID PROOF OF AGE TO VIEW THIS IMAGE. Meet Bob and Fluffy. Motormouth Ray's pals Honda John and Karen caught this fuzzy couple getting mobile on their front porch. Direct application of high pressure spray from the garden hose had no effect on the daring thrill seekers, proving once again that when fully engaged in a moment of zen, the rest of the world does not exist. The very definition of a loving reality slap. (Photo courtesy of Honda John via Motormouth Ray)

Master builder Dave Shuten dusted off his striping box last week at Galpin Ford and proceeded to lavish stripes on every immobile object in sight. Once thoroughly warmed up, Shuten caught his breath (and this shot), then continued the tagfest on a customer car. Is there anything this guy can't do at the highest level? (Photo courtesy of Dave Shuten)

GRIN

Hardcore readers may recall this 2014 image of Allen Stewart at a Stray Cats car club gathering in Jacksonville, Oregon. He had been hit with cancer as if delivered with a scatter gun, and I was amazed to see him up on two feet. He's doing even better today - a walking miracle. Good grin stuff! (Scotty shot)

Bonus grin: An extra special THANK YOU to Dr. and Mrs. Lockjaw for hosting four continuous years of my nonsense at Custom Metal. They could have spent the last 208 Sundays doing something enjoyable or productive, rather than patiently answering my 6,738th iteration of, "What drawer does this go in?". They even fed me 208 lunches. During twenty years of (often awkward) growth steps, they have accepted me for who I was at every juncture, and never judged my missteps. Most importantly, they have inspired me to practice that ethic in all of my affairs. Their property is crawling with cool little lizards, so the above OSHA-mandated sign on the Custom Metal shop wall will always represent Jamie and Linda Ford in my mind's eye. They have my eternal gratitude. (Scotty shot)

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THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS

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Hey kids! You like to have fun, right? Well, you're in luck! Did you know there's hidden treasure all around you? Follow along, as we show you how to find it, using your sense of perspective!

Just like old Beezlebub, details can be deceiving. This appears to be a bone stock '36 Ford, but it couldn't possibly have a more high performance pedigree. More is revealed in the July issue of Hot Rod Deluxe magazine, on sale at your favorite news stand, right now. Get it! (Scotty shot)

Talk about your nit-picky details. CarTech's recent Show Rod Model Kits book is crawling with 'em. Like stereo-injected blown SOHC motors that fit in your glove box. Luca Roveda's T'rantula demonstrates. (Photo courtesy of Luca Roveda)

This out-take from the April 2015 Street Rodder magazine feature on Aaron McClinton's A-bone reveals excellent detailing of the fabricated trunk area. Even more compelling, the briefcase still contains the flight plans from Aaron's grandfather's Army Air Force-sponsored tour of Europe during WWII. (Photo courtesy of Chris Shelton)

A very rare and bittersweet photograph. This is one of the few survivors of a CarTech book I did on vintage speed parts. After eight months of research, travel, interviews, and photoshoots, my computer crashed. All text, captions, and 98 percent of the photos perished. It took several months to pay back my advance money to Cartech before I could get another computer and get back to work. A dark ending to a wonderful adventure. This fuel fill cap is from a short chapter on accessories. The other 2,000+ images were my best work to date. All gone forever. (Scotty shot) 

A typical Model T roadster. But in an upcoming issue of Hot Rod Deluxe, I'll be detailing its atypical history, with a focus on the changes it's been put through since this 1961 Eric Rickman photo was exposed. (Photo courtesy of Petersen Publishing)

This awesome Bob D'Olivo lead shot for my piece on Clem TeBow in the current (July 2015) issue of Hot Rod Deluxe was inexplicably printed without the explanatory caption: "Clem TeBow (left) did not invent the wheel. It just seems that way. The same could be said of Ed Iskendarian (center) and Don Clark (right). Petersen Publishing photo god Bob D'Olivo caught this bit of hilarity at Bonneville in 1952." You're welcome. (Photo courtesy of Petersen Photo Archives) 

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX


Via Motormouth Ray.

John Jenkins' shop box (manufacturer unknown). John and I were roommates in the Army ('73 - '75). We worked in the motorpool. I had a '47 Ford coupe then, and John ended up with our pal Kevin's '39 Chevy coupe (both cars had 283/3-speeds). We went off on our individual journeys in '75, and reconnected a few months ago. As his box alludes, John has been deep into drag racing Harley Davidsons since we bombed around Kansas in our coupes. We have some catching up to do. Or I could just interpret the decals on his box. (Photo courtesy of John Jenkins)

GRIN

We mortals share a habitual tendency to clutter our perspective (and consequently, our lives) with needless details. A select few have mastered the innate gift of a detached perspective, allowing for a more accurate and realistic "big picture" vision. Chassis fabricator, artist, and champion of AA/Fuel Dragster lore Tim Conder employs his gift to manipulate details like taffy, while organically blending form and function. Conder embodies both devil and angel, and embraces both. He could be Earth's most fully realized human. Or a total whack job. Or both. Peruse this torsion bar-suspended customer car and decide for yourself. (Photos courtesy of Tim Conder)

NEXT TIME: The SGE Model A hits the road! Be there!!!

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A FAVOR FOR A FRIEND

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My friend Jeff harbors a deep-seated suspicion of photojournalists. Can't blame him. Yet he posed politely for this portrait in his home garage in 2012. He was doing me a favor. He was very clear about that.


"A favor for a friend." That's how my pal Jeff described his decision to finally surrender to my constant badgering to write his life story. After nearly a decade of harassment, he finally caved in the winter of 2004, and the interviews began with a gentlemen's agreement that the story would not be published until after his passing. We spent a lot of time in the cluttered office of his cluttered shop over the following eleven cluttered years, poring over musty photo albums and magazines. In the end, I had some juicy stuff, but knew there was more lurking behind the guarded boundaries of this dynamic but stoic man.

Time ran out for both of us last Tuesday. Jeff had agreed to help with the build of the 2.3 Ford (his specialty) destined for my Model A. I called him to make arrangements to begin the long-planned build, but his daughter answered the phone instead, and informed me that he was on his way out. Jeff Jahns died two hours later.

I'm shopping Jeff's story around to the magazines this week, but it's a hard sell. At 4,900 words, it's too long for a magazine and too short for a book. So you might be reading it here, instead. Stay tuned. The only selling point of value to the magazine editors is that Jeff was the last genetic link to the Jahns Pistons legacy. It was a link that he broke repeatedly. Jeff Jahns was most definitely his own man. Though he embodied independence, he was also every rodder's friend.

Jeff  left behind a list of the people he wanted at his funeral. Most were racing and hot rod pals, like me. The service was a short and intimate affair, at a park on the edge of his adopted Grants Pass,Oregon hometown. Jeff's last roadster of many (featuring turbo 2.3 power, of course) marked the spot. 

We met on a bridge spanning the Rogue River (which could very well have been named for Jeff). 

I've heard this is illegal now, so please keep it between us, but Jeff's ashes (and a lot of fresh rose petals) were tossed into the Rogue, accompanied by a mournful trumpet solo. Our grief was juxtaposed with a joyful acknowledgement that Jeff's suffering was finally over, eleven years after being diagnosed with bladder cancer. The passing of Jeff's wife Carol last year didn't ease his pain any. Fellow gearhead Bob Anderson was Jeff's last caretaker. He told me Jeff's last four months were hellish. He's pain-free now. (Scotty shots)


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As detailed previously on this blog, Dave "Guido" Sattem contracted friend and fellow racer Twisty Ron Austin to perform a chassis makeover on his show-winning '33 Willys. Dave is happily running eight second laps now, and the grateful Willys is jumping for joy. (Photo courtesy of Diane Boyce)

Doctor Lockjaw's old Tetanus T sold this year to racing pal Walt Skonzykis (sorry about the spelling, Walt), who has now decided to put it on the street. Walt followed Sattem's lead, and his first call was to Twisty Ron. (Scotty shot)

Walt's go-to ride is the Evil 666 T roadster. Count those zoomies. The correct answer is six. (Photo courtesy of Walt)

When Walt dropped the Tetanus coupe by Twisty's shop, Doc and I were all over it. We were stoked to find more than "a few" changes on Twisty's to-do list.

The 9" Ford rearend that Doc had installed has been replaced by this beefy quickchange, to facilitate both street and strip activities. 

The quickie centersection is bookended with Twisty's patented Can't Bust 'Em moly axle tubes. And Doc's Custom Metal ladder bars were swapped for a set of Twisty-style 4-links. 

The 6', 4" doctor was the only one who could reach the pedals in this thing (he mounted the seat way back), so mortal-sized Walt redecorated the interior, too. Twisty will add new tin and a few more tubes.

SGE regulars will recall my Mopar steering box phase. It was re-triggered by Walt's intended T tiller, so I couldn't resist this snapshot. Okay, I'm over it. Again. For now.

Doc and I were both deeply touched to see that Walt left so much of the car's previous identity intact. The new streetable Tetanus will have trick motor mounts to accommodate both V-8 and inline six propulsion.  

Cleco fasteners (kinda like quick-release rivets) are a fabricator's best friend. And Twisty Ron is the best friend any aspiring race car owner could hope for. But why, why, why do random photos go sideways? Damn you, Blogspot.com! (Scotty shots)

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While awaiting his new paint job, Big Bob has been guarding the SGE Model A's mighty powerplant at the Custom Metal shop. Thanks, pal! 

In preparation for transporting the SGE Model A to it's new home, Doc finish-welded the tacked chassis...

...while I cleaned crusty parts in preparation for chassis assembly. These axle bells (among myriad other components) were treated to a wire brush massage (via my poor old electric drill), new bearing races were installed, and the rearend was semi-assembled.

I threw Doc one last curveball on the morning planned for reassembly. I finally scored a set of the EMPI pedals that I've been hunting for, and wanted to install them. How good of a friend is Doc? No one would have blamed him for tarring and feathering me. Instead, we fabbed a quick-but-tasty mounting bracket, and Doc zapped it in. 

With pedals located, the final piece of the chassis puzzle is solved. And Doc and I are still on speaking terms. A miracle!

Last weekend, we stuck the chassis together good enough to roll around the shop and make engine noises. This image captures the first moment it has ever been thoroughly mocked-up and set-down, revealing our ride height calculations to be right on target: 4" in front, and 7" at the rear. While seated, I can effortlessly reach out and touch my fingers to the ground. It's low. In the foreground are some of the leaves to be added (later) to safely support driver and drivetrain. This was a big day in Scottyville. It's been 36 hours now, and I'm still grinning. Thank you Doc, for directing the most fun and satisfying build I've been involved with since the Tetanus T. This is friendship in action. I can only hope to repay the favor by not embarrassing you too much with the final result of your efforts. (Photo courtesy of Dr. Lockjaw)


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UPSIDEDOWN GRIN


While cruising the funeral circuit, I also attended services for R. Charles Snyder (known locally as "Our Charles") at the Britt Festival amphitheater in Jacksonville, Oregon. These sacred grounds host the annual summer-long music fest that brings all the name players to our area (from the Punch Brothers to the B-52s to the Decemberists). An apt venue for the region's most popular radio DJ. I only met Charlie once or twice, so can't claim to really know him. Then what does Our Charles have to do with this "Favor for a Friend" post? Charlie was friends with my brother Mark, and gave him his big break in the radio biz. Charlie was a hero to most for bringing Ozzy Osborne and other top acts of the era to town, but his selfless gesture made my brother happier than at any other time of his life. For that, Charlie has my eternal gratitude. Bonus: A rapt student of the craft, Charlie once attended our local dirt oval races to study the track announcer. When the race began without the hired MC, Charlie (not a car guy) was pressed into service. That was in 1976. From that night up to his passing, Charlie announced every single race at the storied Medford Speedway.

A photo collage of Charlie's on-air accomplishments greeted well wishers. 

A portion of the local populace who skipped work on a Friday for one last taste of Our Charles. Brother Mark was slammed at the Lithia VW parts counter and couldn't get away. Cruel injustice, but Mark kept his job, while several of these guys were put on notice. (Scotty shots)
             
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