PUTIN ON THE BLITZ!

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Who packs the most horsepower in Russia? Prime Minister Vladimer Putin, or motorsports photojournalist Maria Panova? Maria wheels an 8-second Toyota, but Vlad is just so hot...

SGE East Coast correspondent Motormouth Ray snagged this breaking story off the news wire for your enlightenment. Because an informed public is a safe public. Also because we needed content for this week's blog.

Vlad the Imbiber, sportin' sick neon under his trick trike. His bro's in the Night Wolves follow while accompanied by their own blaring theme music. These guys have it all going on. Note: Vlad is not wearing a party hat in this photo. He just comes across that way. The boy can't help it if fun follows him around. (Photos courtesy of Getty)

Russians know how to party, and last week's 70th anniversary of the liberation of Novorossiysk during World War II was a classic example. Like parties the world over, this one got a bit "out there", culminating with a leather-clad Putin cruising the city's main drag with his "brothers" in the Night Wolves motorcycle club, then boarding a vintage warship in Novorossiysk for a free range improv speech (very possibly fueled by vodka). The assembled throng (also very possibly fueled by vodka) found Putin's words so inspiring that they saddled up their bikes for an impromptu invasion of Poland.

It was soon decided that Poland would be but one stop on an all-out road blast to Berlin (the city that invented partying). The ultimate road trip for the world's heartiest partiers. Upon receiving leaked news of the invasion, Polish Prime minister Ewa Kopacz (now known to Russians as The Ultimate Party Pooper) declared the motorized march "a provocation", and warned that should security and public order be disturbed, the bikers would be "put on notice". Pretty harsh. Tougher yet, German Interior Ministry spokesman Tobias Plate threatened the rolling funfest with this: "The responsible authorities will watch it very closely." Whoa. At press time, it is unknown whether Putin and his drunken biker pals have trashed Western Europe or have snuck back into Moscow through a secret back door under cover of darkness, with their tails between their legs. Stay tuned for updates.

This has been an Emergency Public Service Announcement from Scotty Gosson Exposed.

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UPDATES

Last weekend was the final event of the season at New Zealand's Meremere Dragway. SGE pal Fingerz Mullan has turned the butterfly of his Nitro Ape Austin Bantam Altered over to partner Andi Whitley, who made her first full-track pass at the gathering, and it was a doozie. From the full drift burnout to the rowdy launch to the over-effective chute deployment, Whitley experienced every Altered-class adrenaline rush available, short of dodging her own burning pistons, in 9.45 seconds at 144 MPH. She made up for the intact reciprocating assembly by performing a successful fire burnout the night before. Congrats, Andi! And welcome to the Razor's Edge Dance Club. (Photos courtesy of Fingerz)

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We recently reported on Twisty Ron Austin's makeover of Dave Sattem's '33 Willys. Twisty magically transformed the grizzled veteran race car into a pristine show winner, and we've been nerfing him ever since about going all show queen on us.

Austin and Sattem turned our insults to results last weekend at Woodburn Dragstrip in northern Oregon. Sattem's first baby steps in the reborn coupe (under Austin's supervision) were straight and true. A couple of tentative test runs (to seat the brakes and bed the ring and pinion) were predictably pedestrian fare. Twisty narrates from there: "The third pass was off-idle to 800 feet, going 8.60 at 153, and the fourth was off-idle and down to 1,100 feet: An 8.46 at 158 - straight as a pin. Can't wait to see what it'll do leaving off the converter and going to the finish line. Sorry, but no action shots, as I was preoccupied with making sure everything was alright on the car." Thanks Twisty! Congrats to you and Sattem! Just another example of what can be accomplished with some SGE Nation ju ju behind you. Neat trick, twisting a pitbull into a poodle, then back into a pitbull. (Photos courtesy of Twisty)

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This one's personal, so I'm even more biased than usual. Beloved SGE semi-regular Ana Delfosse made the local paper last week, in bittersweet fashion. The Ashland-area resident (now 83) has been diagnosed with scleroderma (a fatal autoimmune system disorder) and is in a bad way. The Patagonia, Argentina native became Formula 1 legend Juan Fangio's crewchief at an early age (see full feature elsewhere on this blog), then married German racer Curt DelFosse, who won five Formula 1 Championships with her help, before Ana struck out on her own as a factory driver for Porsche. Ana and Curt became local fixtures upon moving to Ashland, Oregon and opening a Shell station that became known for going above and beyond with helping motorists. The economy forced the closing of the station a few years after Curt's death in 1998. Medical bills have sucked up any remaining funds and Ana now faces foreclosure of her rural home. Local businesses have set up fundraiser events and a support headquarters at: Ana DelFosse Support Fund, People's Bank of Commerce, Ashland, Oregon, 97520. At this point, a word of support might be as appreciated as a monetary donation. Thanks in advance for any support of my friend. (Photo courtesy of Ashland Daily Tidings)

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Last Saturday was the 50th anniversary of Witham Truck Stop in Medford. To celebrate, they rolled prices back to 1965, to the delight of diner diners like myself. I've been a semi-regular since 1966, when the place was a street racer meeting place. John Witham (son of the owner at the time) was a particularly heavy hitter, with the baddest '55 Chevy I ever rode in. Not quite as exciting today, Witham's came back to life last weekend with overflow crowds and all hands on deck (wrapped in tie dye for the occasion).

My menu.

My bill doesn't show it, but my breakfast also included fried potatoes, eggs, and toast. Patrons were guilted into overtipping - a devious ploy that worked to perfection.

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Your weekly SGE Model A chassis update. Before... 

And after. Can you spot the differences?

We cut off the secondary tie rod boss (it's for cross-steering, which we aren't doing)...

... and we cut off the old spring perches and shock mounts, too.

We even test-fitted some brake components that we won't be using, as my brother Rocky just donated a pair of F-100 Bendix brakes for the front. Thanks, Rock!

Why it took Dr. Lockjaw and I all day at the Custom Metal shop to do a half hour's worth of work on the Model A: We first had to install the drivetrain in a customer's street/strip Willys. That wouldn't have taken long, but in the process, some pesky details popped up that needed addressing. That's how it goes sometimes, whether on a race car or a street car. On a street/strip car - double jeopardy! (Scotty shots)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

 Who's photo bombing whom here? (Photo via Shellski)

Gary Dyer and his Craftsman rollaway on the clock at Grand Spaulding Dodge in 1965. Not only is Dyer working on his Mr. Norm's A/FXer during work hours, he's also posing for a Valvoline Oil print ad, as per for his sponsor's wishes. That's efficient time management! (Photo courtesy of Elapsed Times Magazine)

GRIN

(Photo courtesy of Elana Scherr)

NEXT WEEK: Motormouth Ray, exposed!
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PEARS ON PARADE

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The Hand Out drive-in at the East end of The Dalles, Oregon. This was my first exposure to the social dynamics of the hot rod community. The action here was pretty tame until the sun went down... Thanks to my older brother and sister occasionally getting stuck with me, I witnessed things that other kids my age only whispered about. I was whisked away to Medford, Oregon in 1966 for my own good, but it was too late. This daylight image of brand new cars hitting the Hand Out was taken in 1968. (Photo courtesy of Diane Gosson)

Medford, Oregon is a good place to grow a pear. We used to do a lot of that here. All of us worked in the orchards, nurturing the pears in hopes of seeing our labors on the cover of the next Harry and David catalog. Pears were such an integral aspect of life here that in 1954, our fair city hosted the first Pear Blossom parade down Central Avenue, the main stem of town. It was a big deal. People even came over from rival Josephine County. The gathering celebrated a real sense of community. The parade was such a hit that it has continued to this day.

The pear orchards are mostly gone now, replaced by golf courses which bear little fruit and employ few people. Harry and David are both gone, too. But the company that carries their name has endured and prospered, despite some pretty wild challenges. We're all cheering them on.

Back when, money earned at the orchards was funneled directly into hot rods and drag cars, so several have been acknowledged at every parade since 1954. Until this year's edition. The Model A  and Corvette clubs had a token presence, but I saw zero hot rods. Time marches on, and change is healthy. Like medicine, we don't have to like the taste, but we must accept and adapt to reality, lest we sink into the quicksand of denial. So I embraced the parade. The following is my exclusive SGE coverage of a noisy Saturday on Central Avenue, as viewed from the SGE World Headquarters complex.

My wake-up call last Saturday morning. I responded in predictable but concise fashion: "Get off my lawn!" These guys were obviously confused, but their lack of directional ability was made up for with some badass jamming. Marching bands were never this cool when I was in high school.

We Medfordites are a simple people, with simple tastes. It doesn't take much to draw a crowd here, even in a chilly rain. Speaking of which, transplanted Californians are conspicuous with their umbrellas. Native Oregonians wear hats, or just go au naturale.

Though no hot street or drag cars were entered, the parade still features representatives from our 3/8th-mile clay oval track, which remains wildly popular. And why not? Screaming smallblocks broadsliding through dense traffic at speed are an undeniable spectacle.

Our mom took my younger brother and I to the Posse Grounds every Friday night for years to cheer on hometown heroes like Dane Smith. I never got involved with this scene (though my brother did), but it's definitely part of my makeup. (Photo via Ronnie Mankins)

SGE regular Chris Darland snuck his latest daily driver into the festivities via its link with local history: Before Darland revitalized it with late model running gear, the Deuce-and-a-Half served at Camp White Army Base during WWII. You care because Camp White hosted our area's first drag strip. Darland drives the truck everywhere and claims it to be the best parts hauler he's ever had, which is saying something.

I was trying to work during the parade, so I missed a few photo ops, like Grand Marshall Jim Belushi, and a flock of the 2014 Pac-12 Champion Oregon Ducks football team. But I caught the grand finale: The anonymous horse shit scooper received huge cheers from the diehards who stuck it out to the bitter end. No one knows her name, but all agree she was the town's greatest hero on this day. Bottom line: Small town America is still kicking. It's nice to be a part of something, and this was a sweet reminder that "community" means more than just our little gearhead microcosm. Be true to your school, etcetera. (Scotty shots)

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UPDATES

This just in from Marty Strode, regarding his Stallion motorbike project, destined for pit duty at this year's Bonneville Speedweek: "I took a few rides today. It runs great. I'm off to the Portland Swap Meet, then back to getting it ready for the (dark maroon) finish paint, this weekend." The Stallion has go to match the show: Engine is a 212cc Honda copy from Harbor Freight (available for about $100). Marty confides, "With the torque converter, it has great low-end power and plenty of top speed."

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SGE semi-regular Gary Mathis (seated) sent his T roadster to England last year (covered on this blog), then luxuriated in the decadence of his '46 sedan while gobbling up freeway miles. Gary must have a new project underway, as we recently received word that the sedan is now down the road. (Scotty shots)

The Mathis '46 is now parked in front of celebrated lowbrow artist Chris Cooper's house in California. "Coop" and son Lil Coop (without beard) needed a reliable family car, and the old Garymobile is the perfect choice for the job. Bonus: It's Navarro-approved. (Photos courtesy of Coop)

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SGE regulars Tim Jones and Beth Main checked in last week from Panama, Iowa. We've been hoping for some action shots of their Comp Coupe, but as they were preparing it for their local spring opener, the driver (Beth) inexplicably broke her neck!

The injury may have occurred while going for a high note with her sled dog team, which doubles as the Panama, Iowa Choral Society (shown here in dress rehearsal). Tim narrates: "We're still not sure how or when she did it. She was having neck pain and went to the doctor. Found out she broke the C-1 vertebrae. She was told not to race the car or the sled team for a year. She's not a good patient. Went fishing a week after surgery, and ran the dogs last winter." 

The defiant angler. Don't tell her doctor! 

The defiant racer. Don't tell her doctor!

The defiant-but-healthy Beth Main, conditioning her neck for violent high G-force whiplash launches in a blown alky Comp Coupe. The SGE Nation salutes you!

Beth and Tim are using the down time wisely: "Beth had been working on a 4-53 blower (more old timey than our current 6-71 set-up), so we figured now we have time to finish it." And so they did, complete with a home-made drive assembly! Well worth one lousy vertebrae. (Photos courtesy of Tim Jones)

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No Model A updates this week (due to recording studio logistics), but my old race car made the news again. My would-be masterpiece build was sold under duress on the cheap ($3K), to racer pal Rick Smith, who ran it for a couple of seasons, then offed it to Rich Feicheer, who got the thing down into the 8's (it was designed to run C/Gas on a 10.60 index)! It came up for sale last week for $21,500. Odd to think that something I cobbled together on a shoestring could demand such a price. I'm kind of flattered, though Craig Wallace and Rick Smith nicely finished the roughed-in car upon taking delivery from me. (Scotty shot)

Feicheer is better known for his '34 coupe. For good reason. Still, the old BTU '58 Anglia has been keeping pretty impressive company. We'll be watching to see what happens to it next. (Photo courtesy of Hot Rod magazine)

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SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

Iowa sled dogs don't just sing and race. They also take a daily census of the squirrel population around the farm. Give a wrong answer on the census, and the chase is on! (Photo courtesy of Tim Jones)

This is Sebastian, out for a stroll on his daddy's prize toolbox. We can't tell you who Sebastian's dad is, but we can tell you it's venerated hot rod artist Jimmy Smith. (Photo courtesy of Jimmy Smith)


GRIN

For Beth Main. Please take care of yourself and get in that race car seat ASAP! If need be, perhaps the SGE Nation can band together and help you get a HANS device.

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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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