From the late 60's through the early 70's, I had a really good friend named Frank. We lived in neighboring towns along the Jersey shore, when driving from point A to B only took about 7-8 minutes, unlike the 20+ it takes today. We got along really well because he was one of the very few kids who kinda thought like me - plus he was really into hot rods like I was. An added bonus was that Frank had a cool older brother who used to drag a '56 Chevy BelAir at Englishtown Raceway. I also remember when his brother "retired" the old shoebox and dropped the big block motor and transmission into a Camaro around 1972. Even though Frank & I were only 10 years old at that time, we planned on fixing up the oddly colored BelAir and cruise the beaches in the summer in about 6-7 years. Of course, we had no clue how to work on cars or where we were going to get the money to drop another drivetrain into this faded aqua marine / moss green colored 2-door, but we didn't care. To a pair of 10-year olds, girls and rock and roll music were starting to become important, but cars still ruled.
We were dreamers - as most people (and especially gearheads) are. I remember Frank & I used to walk the quarter mile from his house to the boardwalk and beach in the summer. Yeah - it was also a lot safer then, too. This soda / ice cream place used to sell 7-up in those cool green bottles and we would sit and watch for the frequent hot rod or muscle car to rumble by. We could hear those cars long before we could see them, and we used to guess what make & model they were. Most of the time, we were completely wrong. But I can also remember flipping our lids when we first saw a Dodge Daytona, or Plymouth Superbird, and the new for 1970 1/2 Camaro SS. And unlike other kids who wanted truckers to toot their horns when they passed by, we encouraged the owners to light up the tires when we saw a tunnel-ram engined Mustang, or a blown super-charged GTO.
As time marched onward, Frank and I never did anything with that Chevy. I think his Mom sold or junked it before we could get our best laid dreams on it. I get depressed for what I imagine she sold it for. As forlorn as it looked, it was in great shape for its age, wasn't all cut up, had its original dash, and possessed cake-loads of potential. As it turns out, by the time I was 17, I had moved to central New Hampshire and was driving a 1970 Mustang, and I had lost touch with Frank as he and his Mom moved to Florida in 1975. We lived in an analog age - no emails, no Facebook, no digital sharing of anything. We wrote each other from time to time about the cars he had seen down South, and the fact that I saw jack shit up in New Hampshire - nothing but Subaru's, Volvo's and Saab's. And 4-wheel drive trucks. I think girls eventually took over the car bug in regards to Frank's interests. Can't say that I blame him.
So - what did we learn from hanging out at the beach for most of the summer? That the good stuff comes if you wait long enough. You can't force it. This has rung true for me whether it was purchasing muscle cars, antique trucks, and/or drag cars. I could easily say those times with Frank were some of the best days of my life. No experience necessary - just vivid imaginations. Remember when TV sucked in the 60's and 70's? Most people thought you were living large if you had a choice of 10 channels to watch, as this was even before cable. But it still sucked. Being outside and watching these rigs roll by, bang-shifting gears, or doing massive burn-outs was the ultimate reality TV - it was in your face.
From 1977 onward, I have no idea where Frank lives, what he's doing nowadays, or if he's even alive. I hope he's still kicking and that possibly he's rediscovered that appreciation for old Detroit iron. Maybe... maybe not. I only have hope. And even though we live in a world of government bashing where no one seems to have any answers, the media still tries to do it's best with its subliminal mind-fuck at times, and numerous Americans seem to offended by something that is totally trivial, I still have hope for this human species.
Sometimes I want to escape back in time to the Jersey shore with Frank, the cool cars, easier times, and those green soda bottles. But, in these modern horsepower-driven times, it is great to be alive. Never in automotive history has there been more aftermarket support for hot rods, factory muscle and performance offerings, and enthusiasm for vintage V8 vehicles. The times have changed, and the time has flown by. But people are keeping the faith... and the hope alive.
Until next time, peace out.
Dave
So - what did we learn from hanging out at the beach for most of the summer? That the good stuff comes if you wait long enough. You can't force it. This has rung true for me whether it was purchasing muscle cars, antique trucks, and/or drag cars. I could easily say those times with Frank were some of the best days of my life. No experience necessary - just vivid imaginations. Remember when TV sucked in the 60's and 70's? Most people thought you were living large if you had a choice of 10 channels to watch, as this was even before cable. But it still sucked. Being outside and watching these rigs roll by, bang-shifting gears, or doing massive burn-outs was the ultimate reality TV - it was in your face.
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