SO LOST

CLICK IMAGES TO VIEW FULL SIZE

Early Sixties action at Omaha, Nebraska's Cornhusker Drag Strip. The Rebels car club ran the Olds-powered '33 Ford coupe against anyone willing to try it. Known both as the Playboy Coupe and the Orange Crate, it went on to solid success as a landspeed racer at Bonneville. Cornhusker Drag Strip went on to extinction, and was later replaced by Scribner Dragway, an abandoned air base carved from area cornfields. (Photo believed to be courtesy of Pete Smock)

In the course of researching for Cartech's Lost Drag Strips Too book (available this winter), I was simultaneously stoked and disappointed to discover imagery that either didn't meet Cartech's tech requirements, or didn't possess legit ownership, background info and other must-haves. Scrounger that I am, I saved them to share with your eyes only. These candid peeks at off-track action didn't even earn out-take status, but I dig 'em. Wait'll you get a load of the good stuff in the book...

                                                                                       

                                                                                      *


UPDATE

The anti-buck SGE Model A project (begun in 1997ish) has been through enough twists and turns to qualify for pretzelhood. It was last seen on this blog when put into storage at Allen Stewart's rust farm, so I could focus on the drag strip book. I visited it last weekend for the first time in almost five months.

Amazing! Still right where I left it. Now sharing barn space with Allen's '40 pickup, the rolling chassis is sporting some cobwebs and light rust, but is otherwise untouched.

Allen's truck has rejected every gas tank installed so far. Or rather, the tanks have rejected every drop of gas pumped into them. Then again, the pristine truck may be protesting being forced to slum next to my heap. Can't blame it.

After staring at my rolling chassis for a few minutes, I soon found myself gathering tools. 

With so much work ahead of me in the coming months, it might be reassuring to know that at least the little 2.3 liter Ford is being expertly machined, as I toil in the cold. So I jumped in. Since scoring the engine and trans from some very colorful characters up in the hills, I haven't had a chance to tear it down. It was time to satisfy my curiosity. Employing the chassis as a deluxe engine stand, I dove in.

This was my maiden voyage into a 2.3 engine. I can tell you this: It's weird in there.

This engine turned freely, but for a single cyclical "snick", which I hoped was emanating from the valvetrain. But all of the monkey motion stuff checked out, visually.

Being a know-nothing knuckledragger, I sided with caution and covered the intact overhead cam assembly. Out of sight, etc. Check those wild port shapes. 

The cylinders were topped with what I deemed to be an acceptable ridge. The crosshatching was still visible on the cylinder walls. So far, so cool.

With time running out, I called an audible and ceased the engine tear-down. 

The Mazda 5-speed was hastily popped off the block...

 ... and unceremoniously tossed on the parts pile beside the shop. Turning the output shaft by hand produced the dreaded but familiar "snick". So the good news is I found the noise.

The clutch appeared to be mostly intact.

This is also my first whack at a hydraulic clutch and throwout bearing. The Model A shall be my teacher.

The engine carcass was fitted to this custom stand and wheeled out to the trunk of my awaiting transporter. 

Minutes after a scenic drive through Oregon's Applegate district, the 2.3 arrived at Jerry Peckham's machine shop in Grants Pass. That's Jerry on the left (brown hat), conferring with a customer. Jerry has done all of my machine work over the years, always exceeding my expectations. He also did the machining on Jeff Jahns' turbo'd 2.3s, so my cat pee-fueled and normally aspirated Ranger engine will be child's play to Mr. Jerry. (Scotty shots)

                                                                                 *

SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

And I thought I was an opportunist.

Always the opportunist (told you so), I couldn't resist a shot of Allen Stewart's '60s vintage Craftsman rollaway. The only box needed in this shop. (Scotty shot)


GRIN

A compound the size of Allen's spread requires a dedicated transportation module to traverse all of the rugged terrain between the buildings. This is what Allen came up with, though he covers most ground in his air conditioned Chevy pickup. (Scotty shot)

With the release of Lost Drag Strips Too still several weeks away, you may need a little something to get you through the dry spell. Our crack research team has uncovered some amazing finds that should tide you over. All are discount priced at www.amazon.com. You're welcome.

People who bought these items also bought:

                                                                                      *

LOST DRAG STRIPS TOO

CLICK IMAGES TO VIEW FULL SIZE

The word came down from corporate today: I've been cleared to reveal the secret CarTech book project that chewed up the last eleven months of my life, spit it out, then hightailed it to Minnesota. It's a follow-up to Tommy Lee Byrd's best selling Lost Drag Strips, above. 

The fascination with Tommy Lee's book is understandable. For drag fans, this topic is the ultimate train wreck. The closed drag strips that once hosted the glory days of drag racing have been abandoned and left to rot in the elements like last season's slicks. That level of injustice is enough to redline even the most casual of race fans. Byrd's excellent essay has amassed impressive sales figures over the preceding two years for good reason. Can that momentum be sustained with a sequel? I don't care.

What matters to me is that I finally got to write a book on drag racing. I've been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time. I threw everything I had at this project. Today, I am gratefully spent. Cathartic is an understatement. It was orgasmic. Every day of it. A non-stop orgy of drag racing lore, celebrating my respect for the driven individuals who kicked hot rodding forward in the process of creating this sport and the stages it has played on.

Inevitably, my take on America's lost drag strips will infuriate stalwarts of tracks not included in the book, just as Byrd's did. Those absences are not a personal attack on you, Mister and Missus Race Fan. In fact, I listened carefully to the backlash when Byrd's volume was released, and made it a point to research the most loudly grieved strips first. The tech specs for these books are tough to meet (ie: photo size and quality, legal permissions, etc.), and not all deceased race tracks were documented by professional historians and photographers. Despite my hardest thrashing, several tracks with dynamic stories simply couldn't pass tech. It wasn't their time, yet. Still, in this book you will read heroic stories of orphaned drag strips from Alaska to Hawaii to Florida (we had to cut my piece on the Puerto Rico strips). End of caveat.

An army of drag racing's most storied characters pitched in to help get this project across the finish line. All are heroes of mine, and today are now personal friends (though many already were). I love my job. Nothing beats firsthand accounts of history, and this book is crammed full of the real McCoys who built, managed, and raced on these sacred grounds. No non-fiction author ever had it this good.

Bonus: A surprising number of drag strips sentenced to death have sidestepped the reaper and returned to service. These are some of my favorite stories in the book. Better yet: A couple of tracks that I believed to be long dead have never ceased operation after all! Sometimes I love being wrong.

In the following weeks, I'll be sharing some of the thousands of words and images cut from the final version of the book. There's a lot of leftover material. I went kind of nuts on the research, resulting in an annoyed chainsaw-wielding editor spraying the office with sawdust in his pajamas at 3:00 AM. Sorry, Bob.

My hit on these abandoned quarter miles (tentatively titled Lost Drag Strips Too) is decidedly different from Tommy Lee Byrd's vision, but will hopefully come across as equally reverent. It is now in the layout stage, and should go to print this winter. As per tradition, we'll likely miss the Christmas season (maybe next year). SGE readers will be the first to know the release date. Until then, I hope you enjoy a tease. I'll be spoon-feeding you random peeks of the out-takes, right up to release day. Then you can see the good stuff. Not that it matters to me today. I've had my way with the subject, and it's out of my hands now. See you at the bookstore.

Jack Birdwell's "Scorpion" jet car stretches its wings at Fremont Drag Strip with the honorable J.D. Zink stuffed into the pod. Ingenuity in action! (Photo courtesy of Steve Reyes)

Sure, Kansas City's Dragettes car club made it into Life magazine. But San Fernando's Throttle Queens ran cooler iron. Consider this cross country grudge match a toss-up. (Photographer unknown)

After days of battling snow and sheep, Don Prudhomme and Tommy Ivo finally arrive at Sid Langsham's Continental Divide Raceway in Colorado - the very first stop of their very first tour. Frisky as they were, the southern California duo were hopelessly out of their league in the elements, but knew what they were doing with the quad nailhead four-wheel-drive dragster. Prudhomme drove the dragster and the Cadillac tow car, and serviced both while Ivo signed autographs and evaluated the local talent. (Photo courtesy of Tommy Ivo)

Skis and tracks replaced slicks and cycle tires during Minnesota Dragways' winter seasons, when the nitro snowmobiles took over the strip. TV Tommy may have been inspired by Arctic Enterprises' transparent transporter. (Photo courtesy of John Foster collection)

Typifying the Kansas City racers' feisty demeanor, Floyd Craig's "Chevy Tee Fine" A/Street Roadster observed "the spirit of the rules" by conceding to fender and lighting requirements in a decidedly minimalist fashion (employing Western Auto bicycle components). Tech inspectors were not amused, and demanded a rollcage in '69, which Craig purportedly crafted from a bed frame found in a dumpster. Following a subsequent fling with a slingshot and a Kansas City repair shop, Craig passed in 2000. (Photo courtesy of Steve Irvin)

It's local hot shoe Glen Lazzar from West Seneca, tantalizing the bleacher bums at Niagara Airport Drag Strip in New York. The Dali-esque "Funny Farmer" Willys truck (previously injected) ripped off 9.20 passes at 180-plus MPH with a blown Chevy on gasoline, backed by a 3-speed stick. Lazzar held the B/Gas Supercharged record in 1970. He later owned and operated Farmer's Automotive in Webster, New York. Glen's assistant squirts the 4-port and mayhem ensues. The Funny Farmer show was definitely a Niagara fan favorite. (Photo courtesy of Dean Johnson)


                                                                                      *

UPDATE

By now, dedicated SGE readers are feeling pretty intimate with our Portland, Oregon correspondent, Marty Strode. If you're new to this page, here's what you need to know about Marty: He's been there, done that, and forgotten where he put the trophy for doing it first and best. Marty was recently reunited with an old friend, and spills the beans here for your eyes only:

"It's always nice to see a project that you worked on after it's been painted. The '29 Ford in the photos is one I started on several years ago, for a friend in Washington. We used an original frame, and I built a kicked-up rear section." 

"Trying to keep it traditional (with the exception of a modern 5-speed transmission), we maintained the look of a car that could have been built in the 1940's. I'm doing some small things to help get it finished up." NOTE: "Small Things" to Marty equate to epic engineering challenges to we mortals. 

And there's this: "My friend Ernie Martin spotted this bead roller and managed to get a smokin' deal on it for me. It has a 14 gauge steel capacity, one horsepower motor, and will make a great companion to the Niagara unit that I currently use. I discovered a company in Indiana that makes dies for any profile you can dream up, to fit all machines. Over the winter, we'll get it cleaned up, painted, and back in service. I am clearly a lucky man!" (Photos courtesy of Marty Strode)

                                                                              *

SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

Does your right foot begin to feel a little squirrely when reading about drag racing? Yeah, mine too.

In light of this week's subject matter, we revisit Chicago's Gary Dyer, using the "Mr. Norm" Factory/Experimental for a hat in 1965, while posing for a Valvoline photo shoot. (Photo courtesy of carcraft.com)


GRIN

Hey, it was the Sixties and we were irreverent, okay? This example comes from Niagara Airport Drag Strip. Note pit pass in human's pocket. (Photo courtesy of Dean Johnson)

                                                                                    *

HANDSHAKE DEAL: INSIDE THE FULL CIRCLE DRAWN BY HENRY GREGOR FELSON

CLICK IMAGES TO VIEW FULL SIZE

Henry Gregor Felsen ponders youth culture (and progressive carb linkage) in his Des Moines, Iowa driveway. (Photo by Holly Felsen Welch)

I shook Henry Gregor Felsen's hand. Okay, it was the hand of his grandson, Henry Gregor Felsen II, and this image is only a recreation of that moment from 72 hours ago. But still...

It only took twenty-five years for the connection made in 1990 to become fully realized. That's when I began corresponding with Henry Gregor Felsen. Overwhelmed by Henry's amazing gift for presenting the hot rodder's plight in an unbiased, non partisan, comprehensive, credible, and enthralling fashion, I felt unworthy of penning letters to him on my ruled dime-store notebook paper. Yet his typed responses (clacked out on the same typewriter used for all of his books and magazine pieces) were steadfastly supportive and encouraging. Henry inadvertently introduced me to his son Dan and daughter Holly via those letters. Holly and I eventually met, and the pieces gradually fell into place allowing for my visit last week to Henry's adopted hometown of Des Moines, Iowa.

The pretense was a concert performance and book signing at the 5th Annual Henry Gregor Felsen Tribute Car Show in Des Moines' historical inner borough of Valley Junction. And my brother Wayne (AKA Rocky) even drove over from Omaha for some overdue brotherly bonding. That much went off as planned. But as fun as it was, the car show was overshadowed by the connections made with Friends of Felsen from all walks of life and locales from Indy to Utah. As always, those events were completely spontaneous. Best of all was spending a week in Holly and husband Mike Welch's house, as a revolving cast of intriguing characters (mostly Felsens) came and went, mere blocks from the old Felsen home, where my favorite books were conceived. Full circle, indeed.

The warm fuzzy welcome to the House of Felsen. I instantly knew I was home. (Scotty cellphone shot)

Meet Luke, one of our housemates. This is his spot. He really, really, really likes his water. (Photo courtesy of Rocky Gosson)

The day before the show, we stopped in at Crazy Horse Guitars in Des Moines, where proprietor "Hippie John" (who drives a warmed up Corvette) had selected a loaner guitar for me to use. Bonus: It was built by Breedlove Guitars in Bend, Oregon. And it was a total badass, even outperforming my trusty old Martin D-28 by a good margin. Thanks again, John! (Scotty cellphone shot)

The concert venue was a large coffee shop in Valley Junction, an old part of Des Moines. Thanks to Mr. and Ms. Chad (salt-of-the-earth people) who run the joint, we were made to feel right at home and had our run of the place. (Scotty cellphone shot)

Holly has adopted a herd of swans at the neighborhood cemetery. We stopped by to feed them twice a day. (Scotty cellphone shot)

It turns out that swans are music fans. Not exactly groupies (the mother swan perceived me as a threat), but they are drawn to it. They have tiny louvers on their temples that open up when they're listening. Who knew? I'm testing the swans' sensory system response abilities here. They all tested positive (except for the testy mother swan). (Photo courtesy of Holly Felsen Welch)

Holly's '32 3-window build still had a few issues to work out, so my brother Rocky and I did what we could. We're test driving here, following some steering, brake, and carb adjustments. (Scotty cellphone shot)

Acid casualty with a screwdriver: DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! (Photo courtesy of Rocky 
Gosson)

Edelbrock's take on GM's Q-jet is similar, but different. We figured it out on a pilfered bathroom towel in the driveway, much to the neighbors' amusement. Don't tell Holly! (Photo courtesy of Rocky Gosson)

Test Drive # 4: Happily sideways, after removing a gob of Edelbrock "Endurashine" from the needle-and-seat of the carb. The fake chrome coating apparently turns to goo when exposed to gasoline (specifically, 15% alky 87 octane cat pee. The ethanol is our primary suspect. More testing will be required). (Scotty cellphone shot)

Most of show day was spent hanging at the booth with Holly and Midwest circle track legend Bob Trostle. We sold and signed a lot of books, and shared a bunch of laughs with friends old and new. (Scotty cellphone shot)

Another angle of our headquarters camp. L to R: Holly's freshly tuned coupe, brother Rocky, Bob Trostle, Holly, and her red shoes. (Scotty cellphone shot)

Since we couldn't afford to ship the entire band to Iowa, Karl Performance settled on flying me out to the Inspired Grounds Coffee Shop for an acoustic solo concert of new songs, destined for a future Scotty Gosson Combo album. The crowd was warm, attentive, and receptive. Folksinger Scotty was struggling with stage fright, but managed to survive the set until the rod-tossing finale. Note closed eyes: Playing Felsen-inspired songs in his old playground was daunting enough. Seeing my brother (who raised me) in the front row was reassuring and unnerving, all at the same time. At least we got a decent recording of the set. Bonus: SGE faves Tim Jones and Beth Main showed for the show (minus their blown flathead Comp Coupe). (Photo courtesy of Rocky Gosson)

                                                                                         *

UPDATES

SGE Portland correspondent CC has blown the spiders out of my old Morris and has been making the rounds of the Rose City's social scene in recent weeks. He's tiptoeing into a Gresham hot rod gathering here. (Photo courtesy of PDX Car Culture.com)

Amazingly, CC has left the car just as he received it, probably ten years ago. Nothing new in here...(Photo courtesy of PDX Car Culture.com)

... except for daughter Celina, who rides shotgun sometimes. (Photo courtesy of CC)

Nuthin' new here, either, other than some fresh oil and plugs. (Scotty shot)

Last Wednesday night at the Portland International Raceway drag strip. CC blasted it there on street tires and did not make a pass. (Photo courtesy of CC)

                                                                                         *

Pat Ganahl's Spalding Bros. Special recreation continues to receive the royal treatment from Northwest hot rod king Marty Strode, who tore into the cherry-pie body last week and discovered a shocking imperfection.

"I got the body panels back from the sandblaster, and it's real solid (especially for being 90 years old), but for a section of rust in the lower left-hand side. I formed a patch panel using an English wheel, sheetmetal brake, and a shrinker."

"It fit pretty well."

"I scribed around the affected area, and removed the rusty section with a cutoff wheel and some tin snips."

"It's only tacked in place, until a friend drops by to hammer it as I weld inch-long beads with the TIG welder. The next chore is to fab a panel to blank out the right-hand door, as that's how the original car was done." Is it just us, or is this car coming together even faster than the SGE Model A project? (Photos courtesy of Marty Strode)

                                                                                     *

SQUIRREL AND TOOLBOX

Holly Felsen Welch's back yard is crawling with squirrels. Husband Mike obediently feeds them twice a day. This guy is named Henry. He does look scholarly. (Photo courtesy of Holly Felsen Welch)

Lowbrow artist Chris Cooper ("Coop") may have possessed the world's most spartan garage when this was shot, though it was already christened with Model A spots and sported a 4-drawer box, some chemicals, and a ladder. The Felsen/Welch garage is jammed to the rafters, yet contains nary a single tool. Now you know! (Photo courtesy of Coop)


GRIN

Henry Felsen's son, Dan - a retired Des Moines police officer - came out from Salt Lake City for last week's festivities. While serving in the Marines in the early '60s, Dan ran this flathead Ford-powered '34 Chevy coupe on Hawaiian dirt tracks. He still has the fever today - maybe worse than ever. Out of frame: A polished Model A radiator shell. (Photo courtesy of Dan Felsen)

Henry and Holly, already surfing a wave of momentum in the 1950's. (Photo courtesy of Holly Felsen Welch collection)

The Crazy Swan Lady of Des Moines, with one of her rescues. God bless you, Holly. And thanks for everything. Last week was a nice test run for the 2016 Henry Gregor Felsen Tribute Car Show. That will be Henry's 100th birthday party, and Valley Junction is gonna rock like it's 1916!

Special thanks to the crew at Karl Performance for sending the company jet to chauffeur me around the U.S. last week. It's one badass machine. These guys race everything from Pro Mods to dirt trackers. They win a lot. Thanks, Carl (Moyer), and all the Karls at the shop!

                                                                                 *