Sunday, September 18, 2011

American Thrill Ride

Le Cinema has been insidiously creeping into my peripheral vision in recent years. There was my doomed hot rod music video opus (Roll) that literally crashed and burned, after 5 years of work. Soon after, I learned that Top Fuel shoe Adam Sorokin (a new pal at the time) remastered film and video for his day job. Then Faith Granger crashed into Scottyville with her Deuce of Spades film. Last year, my friend Holly Felsen reported that one of her dad's stories is being made into a movie. Earlier this year, my plans to write a biography on American hero and street race icon Big Willie Robinson were squelched because his story is being made into a trilogy of films and the studio holds the rights to his story. While at Bonneville for Speed Week last month, I attended the premier of The Boys of Bonneville in a spectacular theatre with a few thousand other crusty salts. Then last night, I got a phone call from fellow local yokel Chris Darland.

Chris (an ultra-independent film maker and hardcore hot rodder) was screening selected scenes from his first full length feature film (American Thrill Ride) and invited me to sit on the jury and bust chops along with the rest of the people involved. I reflected on the above examples of cinema connectivity, then thought of my link with Chris.

As a pre-pubescent elfin street punk with a chronic case of Go Fast fever in the mid 60s, I was begrudgingly friended by a neighborhood hot rodder who sometimes let me wash parts and hand him tools while he built his blown smallblock powered '33 Willys coupe. Bill Darland was an "old guy" (probably pushing twenty at the time), but took time to demystify the workings of this badass street/stripper to me. I was beyond honored. Bill taught me some basic theory that has served me well over the years. We both survived the 60s and went our separate ways. Decades later, I started running into this Chris guy at drag races, swap meets and other gearhead gatherings. We were finally introduced by a mutual friend (fast street car guru Charlie Allin) and I discovered Chris' last name was Darland. Bill is his uncle and had shared his expertise with Chris, inspiring and educating him just as he had me. Besides that common denominator, I instantly sensed that Chris 'gets it' - that hot rods are toys to be played with and are not necessarily status symbols. Plus, he's just an easy guy to hang with.
Chris builds cars at his shop, Chris' Hot Rodz, by day and makes unabashedly sophomoric comedies at night (heavy on the 'night' - this guy hasn't slept a wink in 15 years).


                                Shameless spam! Chris and his cars have been in two of my books...

So when Chris called about the screening, I cranked up the wagon and rolled down to Johnny B's, a tiny rockabilly joint on a downtown side street, where the screening took place. The invitees were almost exclusively participants in the project (my hot rod Morris plays itself - a psycho street racer - in a bit part) and all are friends. Basically, we broke into Johnny B's and threw a private party. My only expectation was to have some laughs with my friends. And my expectations were met, head on.

After much nervous flitting about, wrestling with tech demons, and the world's most succinct introduction ("Here it is"), Chris showed us half a dozen finished scenes from the film, as well as a lengthy string of out takes. The scenes we witnessed were surprisingly realized, considering none of the actors have had any experience whatsoever, beyond Chris' direction. Production values exceeded expectations. And the bottom line: It was funny. Imagine a parody of Two Lane Blacktop, with more plot, more action and way more dialog - acted out by individuals who'd rather do time in detention than attend a drama class. Part of the fun was watching these guys try to crack each other up on screen - it was palpable. And contagious. More so, when the out takes appeared. These guys are all naturally hilarious anyway (another reason they're all friends), and the bar was raised even higher when the cameras rolled. My side literally aches today, from laughing so much last night. Of course, a big part of that is because I know these people. Will Joe Toolbox find the film as amusing as we did? This reviewer had too much fun watching American Thrill Ride to care what others may think of it. Five stars!

This was the polar opposite of the Boys of Bonneville experience. Luckily, I can look to each end of this spectrum and honestly say that I enjoyed them both equally. How often does that happen? Maybe somebody should make a movie about this phenomenon. Meanwhile, I know Uncle Bill must be very proud... I am.

Keep an eye on www.divebombersgarage.com for a release date on the film. Give it a couple of years. While you're waiting, you can see some of Chris' learning curve in action on the site.

 Crappy snapshots of the Morris and I on location for a street race scene in American Thrill Ride. This shoot went from 7:00PM to 2:30AM. My race against an undercover detective in a '34 roadster took two takes and I freight trained him both times. Heh, heh...
                                    Hanging out in front of Johnny B's waiting for showtime...

                                                                  ... THE END

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Midnight Oil - Part III

If you have an actual life, don't ever go to Bonneville. It'll chew up and spit out a week of your life faster than a cat can lick his ass with his tongue out and his tail up. I've been back for a couple of weeks now, desperately playing catch-up. I guess it didn't help to crew for a buddy at a three day drag race, days after returning from the salt. But I did, with no regrets, except for a little exhaustion. Meanwhile, this poor blog has been neglected. I just checked in and was shocked at the cobwebs and dust. I swear I saw a tumbleweed roll by a minute ago.

You know those little 15 second blurbs that the TV networks use to promote their programming? This blog entry is like that - just a reminder that we're still open for business. Cool content is on the way, but for today, I'm posting a couple of photos I had hoped to use in my station wagon book as part of a collage. The idea never made it to print, but I'm bravely posting the images here, even though I don't know the photographers or anything else about them. I just saw these somewhere online and saved them because they made me feel good. I hope they work for you, too.

                            The aforementioned book. You NEED one of these to be a complete human!

                                           The images CarTech Inc. doesn't want you to see!                                                                            

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Here's salt in your eye...



Every Bonneville pilgrimage is epic by nature. At least that's been my experience over the last 30-some years. 2011 was no different - yet another leap of faith, with thumb out, empty wallet and no expectations.
In the last blog entry ("Gone, gone, gone..."), I alluded to the lack of words to convey the salt experience. That didn't stop me from trying in 1996, when I wrote "Here's Salt in your Eye" for my hot rod album:

Out on the wide open road
Out where the line chasers go
So fast
So fast...

Out on safari for speed
Out there fulfilling a need
So bad
So bad...

Step right up to a dream
Take a chance and believe
And enjoy the ride
And if your hopes are dashed
And if you're broken or crashed
Well here's salt in your eye...

They've been broken before
It's a price they pay over and over and over
So cold
So cold...

Out looking toward what they want
Sometimes they find what they need
So bad
It's so good...
Copyright Squid Valley Music 1996

Those lyrics probably only resonate with those who've lived them. Oh well, I tried...


The 2011 edition began wth my brother Wayne and I loading up my old '36 Ford truck cab (narrowed 20" and chopped 8") into the trailer behind his HHR delivery. I had an afternoon book signing at the Medford Barnes & Noble, then we blew town, targeting Winnemucca, Nevada.


                                        Wayne, "Checking the load", somewhere in Nevada...    

Exhausted from unsuccessfully dodging dozens of jackrabbits, coyotes and owls for nine hours, we made camp at  the Scott Motel -the traditional stop in Winnetown and our oasis in the desert night.


                                                                   The next morning...

Six more hours of bench racing delivered us to Wendover and finally, the salt. It's always such a sweet warmfuzzie to reconnect with old friends and make new ones. First stop was checking in at Sid and Eric Johnson's pit, where I'd be crewing for the week on their Berkeley roadster. Much more on these guys in the story of my 2009 adventure, "Surfing the Asphalt Playground".



My mission was to photograph and interview racers from abroad for my book on the subject, in between crewing for the Johnsons and yukking it up with old cronies. Mission accomplished, on every count.

Some highlights:
It turned out that the big salt news this year was the Italian and French teams I was covering. They both exceeded their expectations - high and low, respectively. I got great stories from these guys, along with Norwegians, Kiwis and a certain Brit from Switzerland, driving for a Scottish team.

Wayne and I attended the premier of The Boys of Bonneville film, with a couple thousand friends. Great documentary on Ab Jenkins, who brought land speed racing to Bonneville from Daytona Beach and the dry lakes. We were amazed to discover how much else he did in such a frantic short lifetime.

Keith and Tanya Turk were pitted near us, with the Hot Rod Magazine Special Camaro. Frieburger, Chad Reynolds and the usual suspects were in attendance. They blew up the big block Chevy early in the week, but called a Hail Mary and ran it in the 2-cylinder class, qualifying for a record at 32 MPH. While preparing for the back-up run, a dedicated V-2 racer reality slapped them with a 120 MPH run. Only at Bonneville...

George Poteet and Ron Main took the Hot Rod Magazine Top Speed award with a 426 MPH run in their streamliner.

Funny Car ace Ron Capps drove the Speed by Spectre 'liner over 300, contracting a nasty case of Salt Fever in the process.

There were way too many more stories to list here. Bottom line: My jaw still aches from laughing.
I can't post the book photos here, but will share some random snapshot out-takes for your amusement:



                                        Last thing we saw at Road's End, before hitting the salt
                      Wayne surveys the salt for the first time in a year. Still tastes the same...
            Going to work Monday morning, after Sunday night's thunderstorm. The course was fine.

                                                           Erik Johnson (AKA Nexxussian)

Sid Johnson (AKA Hot Legs). If you think this is a tight squeeze, you should see Erik shoe-horned into this cockpit. Seven days later, we finally got through tech (long story)...


  

That left us two days to figure out this year's combo and get back to where we left off in 2009, at 140 MPH. Maybe next year...


I hung with this blown banger A in the staging lanes (they had a nice fan and it was scorching hot). Didn't realize the driver I'd been BSing with was Tanya Harding until later. They were shooting for 100 MPH.

Gene Winfield is still burning salt and building world class customs. He must be 112 by now. He grabbed me in a pinch and put me to work in his pit. Same thing happened to every other journalist type I spoke with. Small price to pay for a moment with royalty. He spun out at 205 MPH, but was back in action and still running when we left.



Old pals Steve Peterson, Frank Silva and John Sprenger ("Got Salt Racing") broke their old record with a 324.961 blast. Way to go, guys! Look for these characters in an upcoming Scotty book ("Black Wednesday Libretto").

Random shots from 2011 Speed Week:



Enough! But super extra special thanks to the Johnsons, who fed, sheltered and chauffered me all week! These guys are genuine hot rod heroes who also taught me what real friendship looks like.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Gone, gone, gone...



It's that time of year again. Speed Week beckons. Funny, the salt appears so pristine, but in reality, is more evil than heroin - drawing in unsuspecting knuckledraggers like myself, who stop by to pay homage and leave swearing never to return to this miserable place. That was my first experience and despite myself, I was planning my return trip well before I ever crossed back into my home state. Insideous stuff. That was many years ago. Since then, I've spectated, crewed and raced on the salt at every opportunity. If you've been there, you understand. If not, you're out of luck, as no words, photos or film footage can begin to convey the salt experience. Sorry.

This year, the incentive is to photograph and interview several racers for a book on overseas racers who come to the U.S. to run in a variety of motorsports. I've been corresponding with these people for months now and am looking forward to getting some in-person insight into why these speed gypsies feel it's worth the shipping costs and passports. It should be a rush to record the culmination of their long distance quests. I'm stoked, to say the least.

My brother Wayne is presently driving from his home in Nebraska to Oregon, to load up my old '36 Ford pickup cab (our dad's last resto project and my last drag car project). This Saturday, I have a book signing at the local Barnes & Noble, then we're off on a banzai blast to B'ville, hoping to catch the premier of the Boys of Bonneville film on Sunday night in Wendover. Wayne and the '36 will head east after that and I'll be in Utah with no room, no ride home and no money. A leap of faith befitting any salt quest.

If I survive and return, I'll post my adventures here. If this crusty hitch hiker is splattered to the winds by a Freightliner on I-80, just know that I appreciate all who stopped by the blog for a look. I hope you left here feeling better than when you arrived, in some way.

Here's some images of Bonneville adventures past, to tide you over and/or inspire your own salty pilgrimage. Kicking off with shots of the Sodium Cyborg Tour of 2007, when Chris Clark and I ran my Morris at World of Speed (see Blast Across the Salt in the July 2008 Rod & Custom).

L-R: Freckles (Jerm's Porsche), Wayne, his son Jerm, Me, CC. Freckles went about 17 MPH faster than the Morris. They whipped us, fair and square.

                                          Sweating bullets at Tech-In.

                                      With CC, happy to pass tech...


                     Unwittingly heading toward a funhouse spin at 137 MPH. 

                           CC, waiting to be waved off on a 140 MPH run.


    And he's off! The freeway is just over the horizon. Interesting, as the      Morris goes good, but doesn't stop worth a #%*$!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

       Freckles and Lil Zilla going at it, at an undisclosed location. I lost again.
Photo by Jerm, at speed......................................................................................


                            Crewing for Sid and Erik Johnson in 2009.
                    Pushing Erik off on his first run in the little Berkeley.
                                   Wayne's '41 Pontiac taking a break.


     Our buddy House crewed on this 500+" Caddy powered A-bomb in '09.

And finally, some random salt sillyness. Lots more of this stuff in upcoming books. These shots are all out takes - I'm saving the good stuff...



                                             See you on the salt???