Aren't You A Little Old For That?

   

   This has to be one of the more somewhat annoying questions an adult gets asked - "Aren't you a little old for that?" The question can be applied to any number of things, hobbies, or topics. To me, it's right up there with another age old question, "Why would you spend so much time and money working on an old car?"  I've been asked both questions far too many times over the years, but it appears to me that the frequency of them being asked is lessening. Maybe it's because people are finally giving up or perhaps I've entered geezer territory now that I'm over 60 years of age. The old car question usually goes either unanswered or has my stand-by answer; "If you have to ask, you won't understand." The kicker is, these questions have been around for generations. People have been working on, hot rodding, and modifying old cars for years in addition to collecting toys. So I guess we haven't answered the masses sufficiently enough. Maybe we never will.

   However, the too old for something, in least in my case, can be applied to my toy car collection as
well as my affection for old Warner Brothers / Looney Tunes cartoons; especially when watching classics that have Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner. One thing that I've always found amusing, especially as of late, is the endless supply of items the Acme company can and will sell to the consumer. Everything from massive industrial magnets, to jet powered sneakers, to rockets you can ride on that had handle bars. I was watching one episode yesterday morning, while taking a short break from my writing, that showed the coyote in a junkyard, and he managed to build a dragster from all that "junk". Looking closely at the dragster, it showed the definitive valve covers that belonged either on a 392 or 426 Chrysler Hemi engine, as well as a GMC 8-71 blower with all the trimmings. Man, I want a junk yard like that in my neck of the woods! I had to laugh as the dragster would only do constant wheelies (so how does one steer the thing) and as he chased the roadrunner through the desert, it handled like a slot car at top speed. 

  

In regards to my toy car collection, it would take multiple pictures to include it all. It occupies every exterior wall of my office with shelves and racks, and the cars also take up space on my desk, window sills, and some larger ones are on the floor. I've been collecting them for over 50 years and don't plan on stopping. My oldest grandson once asked me, "So what's going to happen when you run out of room?" That won't happen - there's always room for more with moving things around or coming up with more efficient shelf space. When I finally reach the point in life where I pass on and my stuff doesn't, I'm hoping that either one of my kids or grandchildren will take on my collection. If my wife outlives me, she has openly admitted that she would have no idea what to do with it all and would probably leave it my gear-head daughter to sort it all out. Do you keep it all, or some of it, or sell it all? The monetary factor can be very strong and all this stuff is inflation proof.  

   A few people would just shrug things off and say, "Boys and their toys". They may even think if you were a doctor, lawyer, or a CEO of some large corporation, then things would be different. I totally beg to differ. If gasoline runs through your veins, it does so regardless of what you do for a living. Case in point, the Chrysler Corporation and the Ram-Chargers of the 1960's. Lynn Townsend was appointed president of the Chrysler group around 1960. He also had two teenage sons who regularly paced Woodward Avenue in Detroit - one of the hottest street racing spots in the country. His sons said that Chrysler Corporation cars had no street cred. Mr. Townsend aimed to fix that - and that he did... in spades. With the help of a good many people who were also hot rod enthusiasts, that decade saw engines like the 426 street Hemi as well as the 440 six-pack engines, the Roadrunner, the Barracuda, and more speed with good looks than you could shake a stick at. The Ram-Chargers were a very loose corporation racing group that stood the drag racing world on its ear. And those guys were engineers and even a corporation lawyer. One has to remember, that all these people were young at one point, but never lost their young at heart as well as their passion.

   When I start my chemo treatments in jut over a week, it's been suggested to me that I do the things I love. And if that includes watching cartoons, or playing with toys, or watching funny movies, or doing whatever that I truly dig so I don't get "chemo-brain", then I'm all for it. 

Until next time, peace out.

Good Friends & Memories Can Sometimes Be Hard To Come By These Days

    I can remember being a kid in northern suburban New Jersey in the late 60's. I had a good friend and neighbor named Kevin, who, like me, was also really into fast cars. That's what we called them anyways, as the term "muscle car" wasn't very common. Magazines mostly called them super cars. Ford used the term "muscle" occasionally in their advertising, but at the tender age of eight, we were just starting to read magazines like Car Craft, Popular Hot Rodding, and Hot Rod. The magazine of choice usually contained the coolest pictures or the prettiest women. Hey - what do you expect? We were eight!

   Anyways, we used to sit on a stone wall at the end of our street and watch cars go by. We thought it was a cool way to pass the time, especially when one of our Moms told us to go and outside burn off some energy. Back then, you could easily tell the difference between a domestic vehicle and an import without even batting an eyelash. Our families were living proof of that. Kevin's family had a 1968 Ford Torino GT complete with a 390 engine. My dad was Mr. Counter Culture and drove a VW Beetle. My other neighbor, to his credit, had a 1967 Camaro SS with a transplanted 396 big block in addition to a 1966 Plymouth drag car. Even when it solely came to identifying domestic models, one could tell the difference between a GM, Chrysler Corporation, or Ford-Lincoln-Mercury model. Even the differences between the model years gave you obvious clues, at least until the early 70's. By the mid 90's, every vehicle was so homogenized, you couldn't tell what was what. At least today, some auto manufacturers are attempting to put distinctive body lines back into the design mix. 

   If Kevin and I partook in this car watching ritual, which was always more common in the summer, we usually had a bottle of 7-up in our hands that were in those funky green bottles. And those bottles were glass, not plastic - with metal twist off caps that sometimes turned your hands red from trying to remove them with a piece of cork on the underside. Unfortunately, I lost track of Keven after we moved away in 1974. I don't know if he's even still alive. I hope so. I do know that his Mom & Dad traded in that "gas guzzling" Torino in late 1973 for a new Mustang II with a 4-banger under the hood. In less than 4 months, they had buyers remorse. Who knows if the Torino is still in existence. 

   Kevin was a great guy, even if our relationship fizzled. We always had a blast watching the cars go by. A good number of people waved without even being prompted and no creepers trying to kidnap us ever bothered us or came into the picture. More than a few hot rodders would nail the gas for us as they went by so we could groove on the sound of the often modified engines. As kids, I don't think problems even entered our minds - ditto with the worlds circumstances. The Vietnam war was ranging and it was on the tube a lot and not just on the evening news. My way older cousins had friends who were drafted right out of high school and a few didn't come back. My neighbors with the Camaro and Plymouth were in their late 40's and they lost their son to that unwinnable conflict. They both sort of adopted me as I used to drool over their vehicles. She made the best chocolate chip cookies and he was the first to teach me about cars. I owe so much to both of them, even though they have both passed on.

  

Fast forward to junior high school and my freshman year of high school. I had another good friend named Carl who had this sign that used to sit on one of his stereo speakers that said "Think". I lost track of him as well after 9th grade, but caught up with him in my early 20's in Massachusetts as he worked at an automotive garage where I just happened to take my vehicle for some exhaust repair. He just finished building a 1968 Dodge Dart drag car with a viscous 440 cubic inch engine. He fired it up for me and it sounded savage with the open headers. I found it a tad ironic, but maybe not, that he had a plaque on the dash of that Dart that said "Think". Both the engine idling as well as the plaque were pleasant reminders of younger days. I kept in touch with Carl over the years, but he's drifted away a bit, especially now that he's no longer on Facebook. Hasn't been on it for about 8 years. He said he just got sick of all the bullshit - especially the politics. I can remember when the exhaust work on my car was finished and the bill was paid, that I tanked him for starting up the Dart. It made my day. I hope my appreciation of that rig, despite it's lower budget build, made his day too. 

   Jumping to 2024 when I purchased my latest street rod. After paying the former owner and affixing the transit plate on the back, I drove the Plymouth home - over 100 miles. It was an absolute trouble free ride and a blast to drive. On the way home, I passed numerous vintage vehicles and we both waved as we passed - similar to motorcyclists do. It's like a fraternity of sorts, even though you don't know the brothers. But then again, aren't we all brothers and sisters under the skin?

Until next time, peace out

5 Years, 7 Months, and 3 Weeks... Well, Almost

    It's been that long since the last Full Throttle blog post. I could fill this entry with cliche's like, "Where has the time gone?" or I could put down a litany of excuses as to why I haven't been writing, but here goes a feeble attempt anyways. I know where the time went - it passed me by like it always does. It didn't speed up like we think it does as we get older and I didn't experience any sand slipping through my fingers. 

   What has happened, however, since October 2018, was my wife and I purchased a house, which needed a little renovation. The automotive garage where I worked got busier and work consumed more of my available hours. Shortly after purchasing the house, my then son-in-law unexpectedly passed away. Moving forward after that, came Covid, which of course turned everything upside down, I had a substantial heart attack in the fall of 2020, and even more working hours at the garage going into 2021. Last but not least, was dealing with the passing of both my parents within an 18-month period, and then wrapping things up with being diagnosed with cancer this spring.

   Despite all this, the vintage automotive aspects of my life have not all been forgotten or lost. A few years back, I had the chance to purchase a 1953 Olds 88 street rod that went down as one of most dependable vehicles I've ever owned - regardless of age or how it looked with its beautiful surface rust and patina. However, a very cool fellow street rodder who was vacationing in our neck of the woods here in Maine saw it and offered me a price I couldn't refuse. He wanted the car to be a grandfather / grandson project and really take things to a higher level. Easy come, easy go. 

   Just recently, before my cancer diagnosis, I purchased a 1939 Plymouth Road King street rod. While there's a great deal of Chevy throughout the ride, (ranging from the drive-train, dash layout, and even the paint color), one has to remember, that it is indeed a street rod. It's going to be a melting pot of aspects regardless of our opinions. The way I see things, I dig it. I really do. If this was your ride, I would still dig it. And in the end, that's all that matters. It was restored / modified by a professional street rod builder that has been doing this type of work for over 40 years. While it's not perfect, or even what I would call true show quality, it's extremely presentable and an incredible driver. And I purchased it that way - even more opinions be damned. I've gotten to the age, at least in my noggin, that I no longer have the time nor the wherewithal to do massive amounts of paint, body work, or rebuild yet another engine even with the huge 2-bay garage that's part of the house we purchased. Been there, done that. This time around, I wanted a turn key hot rod. And even with the cancer diagnosis and upcoming chemotherapy treatments, I have zero plans to sell it and still drive it as often as possible. 

   While I've numerous people tell me I ought to sell my street rod as well as my fairly large collection of vintage drag racing and automotive memorabilia, because it would bring in a shit-ton of money, I will admit there is something, at minimum, very therapeutic, and at times, quite healing about driving my street rod and engaging in said vintage stuff. Some people may call these things impractical or dust collectors. But are they? Are they truly impractical if you receive some type of connection and joy from engaging with them? In my opinion, after all these decades and different hot rods and muscle cars, I find one of the most soothing things for my soul is the rumble of a high performance exhaust, the roar of the engine when the camshaft and related engine components are reaching their sweet spot at 5,000 rpm, or just taking in the scenery on a warm evening with the windows rolled down cruising at 50 mph. I also get a warm fuzzy when browsing, yet again, through my NHRA souvenir programs, or through an issue from the 60's of Car Craft, Popular Hot Rodding, Speed and Supercar or Super Stock & Drag Illustrated. The same thing happens when I look over, for the umpteenth time, my Hot Wheels collection that I've amassed since I was five starting back in 1967. Okay, we can't take our stuff with us, but money is not everything. 

 
   One thing I'm going to make a valid attempt at over the next 6 months, if not longer, is to sit down and do more writing and photography. With my chemo treatments starting in less than 2 weeks, I'm taking a bit of a vacation. I've taken a leave of absence from my full time job as I was coming home exhausted after only 8 hours. On numerous occasions, I would take an hour nap after work just to recharge my batteries a little bit. As of this juncture, my job will be there for me when I return; and that's if I return. Nothing is guaranteed, my friends. I've had one or two people kinda freak out me that I'm not working currently, and I know they're intentions are good, but again, work is far from everything and not my life's worth. I'm finding that I'm more drawn to writing, photographing, and dealing with vintage cars as well as vintage car people than ever. Y'all are a very cool breed - always have been. 

Until next time, peace out.