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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SCOTTY GOSSON'S REAREND EXPOSED!

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Yes, it's me, in the midst of my most daring photography challenge yet (note lack of mirrors and selfie sticks). Why the fancy braid and decorative bead? Because this is a formal announcement. 

Life has run out of room for my ambitions. Too many irons, not enough fire. Something's gotta give.
So as of today, this will be a part-time blog. Maybe bi-monthly, maybe less or more. All I know is that the hours expended on this project would be better invested in a paying gig, sleep, and/or paying back the countless friends who have helped me put this glorified Facebook page together over the years.

The blog isn't my only creative outlet to go on the back burner this week. There's also a record album, half a dozen independently-published books, and a hot rod project. All are being put on hold, or dramatically scaled back, because each demands time, money, and energy I do not have. Most important to me are the dozens of personal relationships that have been neglected. Unforgivable. As for the work, I can knock out decent stuff when I devote a hundred percent of my focus to a task. But juggling multiple tasks brings my focus-rate-per-project down to around two percent each, and exhausts me in the process. Not fair to anyone.

Where this blog is concerned, "anyone" means you the sacred reader, me the sleep-deprived writer, and the loved ones who have watched me deteriorate in front of their eyes while neglecting my needs and theirs. My girlfriend Shellski tops that list. My sincere apologies to you all.

Do not fret. Future posts will be styled somewhat differently, but change is natural and healthy. And who knows - perhaps recharging my battery will result in a blog with more substance and value. Maybe even lucidity. It could happen.

And the new "occasional blog" will surely feature regular updates on the characters you've come to know here. These unique and heroic individuals are family to me, so expect guest appearances from...

Shellski and Rosie, who have sacrificed dearly for this cause, and so many others. (Shellski shot)

Doctor Lockjaw, who has donated years of mentoring and backbreaking labor. (Scotty shot)

Twisty Ron Austin, another mentor to have spent considerable time and effort contributing behind the scenes. (Scotty shot)

Dave Wallace Jr (with beard) is yet another mentor who has dropped everything to answer my pesky questions, to the chagrin of wife Donna (without beard). (Photo courtesy of Dave Wallace Jr.)

Jimmy Smith donates wonderful art, and a contagious lust for the hot rod life. (Photo courtesy of Jimmy Smith)

The unofficial sparkplug of the SGE Nation, fellow photojournalist Kristin Cline. (Photo courtesy of Kristin Cline)

Whether it has two wheels or four, comes from California, Arizona, or New Mexico, fellow author Lori Bentley Law makes sure SGE readers know about it first. (Photo courtesy of Lori Bentley Law)


Then there's the award-winning SGE staff, most of whom are staying on board whether this ship sinks or swims. Actually, it's hard to tell the difference...

SGE East Coast Senior Editor Motormouth Ray is a regular contributor, and a regular promoter of the blog on his Motormouth Radio Hour program in New York. (Photo courtesy of Motormouth Ray)

Northern Oregon correspondent Marty Strode is a legend of hot rodding and motorsports, yet makes time for regular SGE contributions. God only knows why, but I'm not complaining. (Photo courtesy of Marty Strode collection)

Northern New Jersey correspondent Lance Sorchik donates wonderful art, a contagious lust for the hot rod life, and mind-opening tech from around the world. (Photo courtesy of Lance Sorchik)

Central Oregon (Willamette Valley Division) correspondent Jim Lindsay (left) also reports on the national landspeed and car show scenes. (Photo courtesy of Jim Lindsay)

Undercover correspondent Mr. X rarely gets any bandwidth, so here ya go, buddy! This guy has repeatedly risked it all for the SGE Nation and asked for nothing in return. It's just what he does. (Photo courtesy of National Security Agency)

The first staffer hired at SGE is Portland correspondent CC. Over the years, CC has contributed an amazing grand total of one story. Pathetic. But it was a good piece, so he stays on the payroll. (Photo courtesy of Sia Clark)

Eastern European and New Zealand correspondent Maria Panova gives us the worldly flair that passes for journalistic credibility, online. With superb photo skills and various motorsports championships, Maria would be any editor's first round pick. (Photo courtesy of Sharp Shotz)

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UPDATE

While I'm exposing my rearend: When we left off last week, the bearing race was stuck in one of my early Ford axle tubes (or "Bells"). It was banged on, heated, and banged some more, to no avail. This was as far as we got with a torch and cutoff wheel at Custom Metal last week.

Work continued the next day in the safety of girlfriend Shellski's driveway. Adding prying and chiseling to the cussing and banging didn't help.

Two hours of work later, I had cut a little trough through the bearing race, using a cold chisel, hacksaw blade, and a triangular file. Theoretically, the race should squeeze together on impact and fall out. Still no dice. Then my pal Richie Rich loaned me his Sawzall, resulting in this Grand Canyon cut in under six seconds. But the race still wasn't ready to leave the nest. Back at Dr. Lockjaw's Custom Metal shop on Sunday, Doc delivered the perfect blow (more of a light tap) and the race jumped out. Finally!

Now that we were finally ready to swap the bells, I set up a work area beside Doc's shop and tore into the open-drive '48 Ford pickup rearend, expecting more trouble, but finding little.

Luckily, Doc's neighbor Roger Huffman is an early Ford restorer. Roger loaned me this gennie Ford hub puller, making short work of removing the frozen brake drums. Thanks, Roger!

The banjo rear was torn-down posthaste, without incident.

Braced for a flood of gear oil, the dry ring, pinion and axles were a nice surprise. However, some moisture had invaded the banjo, creating areas of surface rust.

The pinion gear amassed the most corrosion, but will hopefully clean up with emory cloth and elbow grease. I'll know more, once I can afford a piece of emory cloth. The bells are now swimming in the toxic soup at Keller Machine, just down the street from SGE World Headquarters. We'll reassemble the banjo with fresh bearings and races, then begin prepping the chassis for final welding before it goes into storage. (Scotty shots)

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For now, anyway. Stay tuned