I will admit - I'm a fickle guy. On any given day, I can pick up a magazine, find an article or a featured ride, be it a street rod, pro-touring muscle car, or a rat rod, and I will get ideas of what go-fast ride I want to purchase next. Give me a month, and I will go from a mid 70's big block crew cab dually truck, to a late 80's Fox-body Mustang, to an early 30's rat rod with Cadillac power. And those are just the rides I can remember at this given moment. So to rectify this dilemma, I have made one and only one New Years resolution - not to make any at all and tear up my bucket list.
The first part of that last sentence is easy. The way I finally came to figure it is whatever my next go-fast ride is, will present itself at the right place at the right time at the right price. Even though I may waiver from time to time, for the past few years the main focus of my next rig has been a 30's era semi rat rod - if there is even such a thing in written accepted terms. A classic example of what I mean is like an early 30's Model A that's a balance between no chop at all and a finished chop that would scalp any and all passengers. If it's channeled, no big deal. It just can't be so deep that my legs are perfectly straight forward when I drive. My knees are too shot for that. Some aspects are easier; it can be a standard or automatic - don't care. Ditto with the engine; it can be a small or big block, as long as it pounds out at least 450 horsepower. The interior has to be functional; full gauges, comfy seats, and a stereo. See? I told you - I'm fickle.
The second aspect of the last sentence in the first paragraph, is going to be a little more difficult. Tearing up the bucket list seems odd at this point in my life. I still
hear the term quite often, especially from people over 40. I know it's a
nice little quip or quote - it sort of sums up all those great little
experiences we all will have before we die. But recently I heard a different take
on it;
"... a bucket list is nothing more than an excuse drawer, a mental laundry pile that will never be folded." Bless you Elana Scherr. As I reexamined the "bucket" term, I've come to the conclusion that it's my way of saying,
"I don't want that enough to actually do it." The funny thing is, as I look back over my hot rodding hobby career, I've thrown a great deal of that emotional roadblock crap out the window already. Drive well over 1,000 miles to purchase a hot rod? Yup - done that. Gone deep into the 8's down a quarter mile? Ditto.
On the other side of the coin, yes - I do understand the challenges that come up throughout life that keep us from obtaining our dreams. Not enough money at this point in time, your work schedule has doubled up because the company you work for is short-staffed, kids, school, and sports (or other extra circular activities), or even just balancing the household budget and paying the bills can put a real kibosh on that twin-turbo 1940 Willy's or '71 Cuda. But I also heard a great suggestion to counter this -
one day at a time. Instead of buying that honkin' extra-large coffee with a turbo shot at the local drive through, put that $3-4 dollars a day into a jar for that turbo engine. Tackle the project, even if it's just saving money for it, one day and one aspect at a time. I work with a guy who, I swear, is the king of bartering. I don't know he does it, but I do know he certainly has enough junk and skills to pull it off. Don't believe you fit that mold? You would be surprised. Take an inventory of your stuff that hardly gets used at all and sell it. Another friend of mine does snow plowing and landscaping for a living. Guess what? One of his clients owns a engine machine shop. He is currently trading plowing and landscaping for machine work to be done on his engine block, cylinder heads, and final assembly. It's amazing what you can come up with between friends and associates.
The bottom line is this; we never know how much time we have on this planet. When I'm on my death bed, I don't want my life to be full of,
"I wish I had done this or that," or
"... someday." I want to draw a blank when asked
"was there anything you wanted to do, but never got a chance?" I'll draw a blank, because my shredded up bucket list will be empty.
Until next time, peace out.
Dave
I will admit - I'm a fickle guy. On any given day, I can pick up a magazine, find an article or a featured ride, be it a street rod, pro-touring muscle car, or a rat rod, and I will get ideas of what go-fast ride I want to purchase next. Give me a month, and I will go from a mid 70's big block crew cab dually truck, to a late 80's Fox-body Mustang, to an early 30's rat rod with Cadillac power. And those are just the rides I can remember at this given moment. So to rectify this dilemma, I have made one and only one New Years resolution - not to make any at all and tear up my bucket list.
The second aspect of the last sentence in the first paragraph, is going to be a little more difficult. Tearing up the bucket list seems odd at this point in my life. I still
hear the term quite often, especially from people over 40. I know it's a
nice little quip or quote - it sort of sums up all those great little
experiences we all will have before we die. But recently I heard a different take
on it; "... a bucket list is nothing more than an excuse drawer, a mental laundry pile that will never be folded." Bless you Elana Scherr. As I reexamined the "bucket" term, I've come to the conclusion that it's my way of saying, "I don't want that enough to actually do it." The funny thing is, as I look back over my hot rodding hobby career, I've thrown a great deal of that emotional roadblock crap out the window already. Drive well over 1,000 miles to purchase a hot rod? Yup - done that. Gone deep into the 8's down a quarter mile? Ditto. 
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