It's Fine Just The Way It Is

 It was attending a car show recently and I saw this really nice Dodge Dart 2-door pull into it's parking space. The set of cool Cragar wheels that adorned all four corners, offered some nice bling to offset the period-correct teal / aquamarine body color. I didn't even give it a second thought when I saw the bucket seats, console, Sun Tachometer, and the after-market 5-speed shifter, that there was a modified V-8 between the fenders. Nope - it had the stock slant six that the car came with. I chatted with the owner for a bit after the crowd disbursed a short while after he opened the hood showing the slightly rusty 225 cubic inch mil. "Happens every time. People expect either a 340 or maybe a big block. The fact that it's a 2-door adds to that expectation. The tach and shifter really throw them for a loop, but I like it just the way it is." I asked about the 5-speed. He says he installed it for two reasons; gas mileage and gas mileage. Especially since he had a 3.91 gear ratio in the differential. The car has the get-up-and-go he likes, and is able to nail down 25 mpg on the highway. Win-win.

I agreed with him one hundred percent. In my eyes, it's his ride and he pays the bill on it, so he can build it (or keep it) any way he wants. I can remember numerous cars and trucks I've built over the years and all kinds of people offering more advise than I could handle about what I should do with the motor, or the fact that their cousin's uncle has this killer motor I should buy for it, or what color I should use for paint. The last pickup I built over 5 years ago still to this day sprouts opinions and I don't even own the damn thing anymore. Everything from the drive-train, to the paint, to the interior, to the fact that it wasn't a 4-wheel drive rig. The paint still gets the most comments. After about a year of researching, I finally went with a color scheme of Chevy Atomic Orange pearl, Chrysler black pearl, and Mercedes silver striping. The combination sounded odd, but when just about everyone saw the finished job, they loved it. That paint was a mile deep when we were finally done with it. However, it was the the Chevy faithful that threw the penalty flags. They were shocked I didn't paint it Hugger orange. It was also surprising how many GM heads didn't know what vehicle Atomic Orange was sprayed onto. It wasn't a truck or Camaro color - that's all they knew. And what's with the colors from the other manufacturers? That was blasphemy, although if I told them they were GM colors, they wouldn't have known the difference.

This is one reason why I'm thankful for the rat rod movement. It was a blatantly honest middle finger to all those enthusiasts who "thought" vehicles should have a certain look, or be a certain color, or have specific wheels. Some enthusiasts couldn't even get past the rust and patina. When the rat rod phase was at it's zenith, I can remember the cover of the February 2012 issue Hot Rod magazine that stated, "No boring cars". And square in the middle was this hellacious mid '30's International truck rat rod that had a back half off a late '50's Dodge Coronet, with huge slicks sticking out. It was fantastic - and some readers totally lost their shit with it. Then editor, David Frieburger, even warned readers the month before that this issue would contain "... cars built by people who don't care what you think". It was a brief period where beaters ruled. In a sense, it was hot rodding at it's core, whether we care to admit it or not.

So - if you're building a cool ride - doesn't matter if you're almost finished or just getting started, don't listen to the naysayers. Follow your dream, your plan, and your heart. It's your ride... and it's fine just the way it is. Because it's you and your statement.

Until next time, peace out.
Dave

Good Times

My creative writing professor from college would probably shoot me - I was mulling over, for too long, the title of this weeks blog. Numerous times, he used to say to the class, "Just write your piece. Don't worry about the title. It will come later." That's what I finally did. As I write this, it is now mid-October, I haven't written a blog for something like 2+ weeks because of my hectic schedule, and for all intensive purposes, the car show / drag racing season has drawn to a close, as far as events are concerned, for 2017 here in Maine. I was able to attend a large (for Maine anyways) drag racing event last weekend at Winterport Dragway. It's a small track that's only an eighth mile. The closest quarter-mile professional track is in Epping New Hampshire. While we all could wish for a longer track, better seating, or some other instant gratification aspect, there's some inventory to be had here.

First off, it's a drag racing venue, regardless of it's size. That in itself, seems to be a miracle nowadays, especially when you consider this track has been in the same location for 50 years. How many times have we read in countless automotive and hot rod enthusiast magazines about "...yet another drag strip has closed" due to complaints from nearby residents, financial problems, or some developer wants to turn the place into the latest homogenized condo development. Second, it has a certain nostalgic coolness factor - that while they have restricted areas for safety concerns - it's more or less an open area where you can get pretty dang close to the lanes, the burnout boxes, the return road, as well as the racing pits.

I'll admit it - I'm an old fart. I can remember going to NHRA events at Englishtown New Jersey raceway back in the '60's. While the stands were a ways from the actual staging lanes and quarter mile track, the pits were an open invitation to watch and mingle with the race teams and drivers you saw on what passed for TV back then. While other kids traded baseball cards, I used to love watching Ronnie Sox, Dick Landy, Don Nicholson, and Bill Jenkins - you name it, I knew who they were. Pro Stock, Gassers, Top Fuel, Funny Cars; it was all good. The kicker was, when you wandered through the pits between rounds at Englishtown, you could literally rub elbows with these same people. The same was true at Winterport. I was able to talk with drivers, photograph their rides REALLY up close, and have a blast like I did when I was a kid. And even though this was considered a "Gasser" weekend, every type of race car was welcomed. Dragsters, street rods, muscle cars, and modern bracket racing cars. When was the last time you saw a Royal Bobcat prepped 1963 Pontiac Catalina Super Duty take some power-shifts down the tarmac?

That weekend also held a large car show, which was a separate entity unto itself. Every type of vintage automobile was welcome. There were cars, trucks, even campers. The engine between the fenders didn't natter either. A blown big-block Ford was parked next to an unrestored 100% stock 409 in a 1961 Impala, that was parked next to a Dodge Dart and 1st generation Charger - one with a rusty stock slant six, the other with a twin-turbo 426 Hemi.

Of course, when you completely immerse yourself in an event like this, the hours seem to fly by. When you finally leave, and even if you're behind the wheel of your modern front-drive vehicle, you still expect to see things like you did when you were a kid. Vintage automobiles, old fashioned service stations, auto parts stores where the employees actually knew what the heck they were talking about, and tie-dye everything. But, as I left Winterport late Saturday afternoon, and slowly came back to reality, I realized I can't always be jonesing for the way things were. The good 'ol days had some good times, but not everything was always good. I certainly can't live or spend all my time thinking about the future, being afraid or concerned that events like this will someday cease to exist or if we'll be able to preserve our vintage automobiles. I need to be here... now. Engage and truly appreciate what is here... now. To live any other way is completely self-defeating.

Sorry for all the Chevy pics. It just worked out that way. I dig all types of makes and models... really. Until next time, peace out.
Dave