THE ROAD ACCORDING TO NURSE NEWMAN AND THE LAWS OF ROMANCE

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Hightailing it toward adventure. Headlights on the horizon. In your lane. For better or worse, you are about to meet someone that you would not meet if you had stayed home. This is where reality lives. Open yourself to it and see what happens next.  (Photo courtesy of Dale Bush)

I can romanticize a steaming heap of dog shit. A gift and a curse. So it's no surprise that I've romanticized the road since I was old enough to pee on one. But there's no need to romanticize something as intrinsically romantic as the wide open road. Exhibit A: The above photo was taken by my friend Dale, through the windshield of his car. The image speaks vividly for itself, but I couldn't resist tossing in my two cent caption. That's the curse. The gift: The road always delivers us to places unexpected and wondrous.

Last time on SGE, I droned on about driving cross-country in my Model A. To this point, every mile I've driven in my own hot rods has been local. Regional, at best. Twitchy cam specs, short gears and high compression can be limiting. But now the pieces are falling into place for a hair blower that I can conceivably wheel across the United States. In a recent brainstorming session with my long-time pal Nurse Newman, we debated the ultimate affordable solo road trip (which could be a vacation, or a permanent nomadic existence). Newman's hypothetical great escape revolved around a motor-home, National Parks, and occasional fine dining. I also yearned to visit America's natural wonders (just different ones than Newman's picks), but both fantasies proved unrealistic, given the realities of our time and budget constraints. Still...

Nurse Newman and I, back when we were young romantics. Today, we're old romantics, considering chucking it all for a life lived on the fringe. Are we stepping toward ultimate freedom, or setting ourselves up for certain disaster? There's only one way to find out. (Shellski shot)

First, I would head East, to Bonneville: The last bastion of virgin hot rodding (barely). No fancy hotel room for me though. I'll strap my sleeping bag to the cowl and roll it out on the ground when I can drive no more. I can't afford to enter the Model A in Speed Week, but always enjoy crewing for my friends there.

Continuing East, my next stop would be at Mike Nicholas' Dirt Drags in Colorado. If I don't snap an axle key, I think the A-bone might be competitive here. These images are fresh from last weekend's inaugural event. (Photos courtesy of Hot Rod Hillclimb)

Then, the longest leg, to the Race of Gentlemen, on the Jersey shore. My plan is to take on all comers, win Top Eliminator, then go visit Motormouth Ray and the Sorchiks. (Tim Sutton photo courtesy of Drivingline.com)

While in Joisey, I want a photo souvenir just like Clayton Paddison's. But my version will feature a cartoon-sized trophy, with Paddison's name on the list of people I beat to get the win. That's right, I'm calling you out, Paddison! See you on the sand in 2016. Unless you're yellah... (Note: That was my only experiment with trash talking. I regret the poor judgement, and apologize to Clayton Paddison, whoever he is. I was out of line.) (Photo stolen from interweb. Photographer unknown)

The only event planned for the return trip to the west coast is Mike Nicholas' Hot Rod Hillclimb, in Colorado. I'll pop in, beg a shower and a sandwich from Mr. Nick, win the race, and continue home. (Photo courtesy of Hot Rod Hillclimb)

Back in reality, Nurse Newman and I finalized our plans over a fancy-schmantzy dinner at an expensive restaurant. Newman's idea, so she was buying, of course:

"So Newman, how would you finance your new nomadic lifestyle?"

 "Well Gosson, I've worked hard all my life, saved my money, and bought a house. It's kinda scary, but I just might sell it to buy a motorhome and fund a gypsy lifestyle. I'll be getting a pension pretty soon, too. What's your great plan?"

"Hmmm. I dunno...."

"That's your plan?"

"Well, there would probably be a lot of dumpster diving and gas siphoning involved. I guess I could knock over some gas stations and convenient stores, if things got really tight. I have friends across the country who might help me out with food and shelter. I don't want to overthink it - this is supposed to be an adventure, right?"

"You don't have to worry about overthinking anything, Gosson. Just remember, if you get in a spot, I'll be out of cellphone range. Good luck to you."

"Thanks, Newman. Right back atcha!" (Shellski shots)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

These guys live the life. If/when I grow up, I wanna be a squirrel. Again. Okay, I'd like to remain a squirrel. Forever. Beats workin'.

The tool kit I've been secretly accumulating for the emancipating day that I permanently hit the road. Note to future tool thieves: Don't bother looking for this Craftsman bag. The tools will be cleverly hidden in a different container. Ha! I tricked you! (Scotty shot)





GRIN

Some of you may recall Shawn O'Brien's '59 Chevy from this book cover. Shawn and family recently sold the family home, swapped a somewhat fresher 327 into the '59, and hit the road for a 22-states-in- seven-weeks family vacation. The O'Briens have agreed to make SGE the unofficial home page for this adventure. Stay tuned.

If this out take from the O'Briens' last trip is any indication, this is gonna be good... (Photos courtesy of Shawn O'Brien)

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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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