MAGAZINE

YA GOTTA PUT YOUR HANDS ON ‘EM

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Now. Wasn’t that nice? You went out there and did something you had put off doing, or something that just wasn’t THAT important, but you accomplished something.

We don’t think Hop Up Guys are sedentary beings, else-wise they’d just buy some flashy, accessorized piece, and lay around talking about it on the phone to some other bragger, and conjuring up the next dramatic arrival at some place where the mag guys are going to celebrate some already-over-pre-hyped thing somebody had promoted they were gonna do. Ha! Falseness! Shallowness! Not-gettin’-it!

You put your hands on the iron. You give it what it is that it needs. Then you go out an’ flog it. Eventually you’ll wear something out, it will break....and you’ll have to make up another one. It is part of the JOURNEY.

Even if you don’t know much, aren’t a master of the tools, the parts, the nomenclature, the metallurgy, you still have to lay hands on it or it’s all false. en hopup veritas.

KIWIS PUT THEIR HANDS ON ‘EM...BELIEVE IT!

The truth is in the tools and the fasteners and the grinders and.....all of it. You don’t have to be a jive fabricator to be a Hop Up Guy. You gotta be someone who aspires to it, and finds peace in the practice. And respects the skills of those who do know whatsawhat. Make time. Go out in your garage and learn how to do something by blowing it a-frickin’part and putting it back together again. Be stubborn. Don’t call for help until the end.

Schedule the slots in those screws, take the time to remove the bolts you just Locktited-in when you discover you left off the flockin’ lockwashers. Thoroughness. Yeah, no one would ever know...but go for excellence. It wouldn’t hurt to have these anal policies when working on steering and brake issues anyway, would it, Cletis?

It just seems that if a cat really claims traditional founding in his rod and custom life, then he oughta be out there getting dirty once in a while. There are factions of rodding where it may be impractical to work on your TPI, hidden loom, monochromatic, synthetic roadster because they are as complex as the family Bimmer or something. But WE gotta get involved. I swear there are guys out there who enjoy working on them more than they do driving them (Mo-man?) and they are the real article.

DON'T BE INTIMIDATED BECAUSE YOU'VE NEVER DONE IT; INATE TALENTS ARE SOMETIMES GROSSLY EXAGGERATED

Isn’t the first question they ask in the gas station, "Did you build it yourself?" Never mind that we don’t really give a rip what a bugger picker in an Accord thinks, but we ARE courteous, aren’t we???????

"I hired most of it done but I had my hands on it quite a little bit, too." That might do.

Or , "No. I bought it from some flimflam man at Pomona who told me it had been traded in on a Lear Jet." Nahhhhh. Not that one.

How bout , "Yep. Me an’ the little woman....... I got her to quit Medical School in her 6th year cuz I got to the point where one pair of hands in the shop just wudn’t enough."

Tell ‘em what you want. But if you can’t work on it at ALL, tell ‘em anything; but DON’T tell ‘em you’re a Hop Up Guy!

FOR SO-CAL 'SHINE SHIRT' CALL SO-CAL @ (909) 469-6171

AFTER LUNCH

These cats think that just because they are the Real Deal, the Sea to Shining Sea, No-Top, All Weather, Sperm-of-the-Moment Cross Country High Boy Haulin’ Champeen Two-Lane-Trollin’, Cool-Livin’ Daddios, that they got SAND?

They do. They got SAND.

Their ribbin’ is good natured, but these are the guys who do it without press, do it more often, go more miles, and on longer runs than probably anybody in the country, and do it for the satisfaction of doing it. They just like it. It feels right, looking out over a deuce hood listening to the sounds the hot iron makes as it goes through the throws of being......a hot rod. They don’t do it because it guarantees 20 color pages in the fall issue of the big one. They don’t do it to impress the lemmings at the big rod show.. It’s just what they do.

But one day, without notice, we solemnly promise that we will show up in Kentucky. In OUR hot one. With time on our hands. And with curiosity to see all the cool cars and moonshine and twisty roads Kentucky has to offer................. and no agenda.

And we’re gonna make you turds take it back.........right ....after lunch.

T n' A

(BTW: we got harassing mail from some mugs who got this flathead they say is going to eat the Hop Up Cragar. Our recommendation to the chest pounders? Note that the modesty put forth about that ratty racer in these columns may just be sandbaggin’........Whoa, Daddy!)

RILEY IN THE CRACKERBOX TWISTED AN AXLE KEY AND BROKE A BRAKE DRUM

GREG'S ROADSTER HAS SINCE GOT THE DROPPED AXLE AND NEW SPRING IN PLACE OF THE 'ROUGH-RIDING' BLOCKS

FOUR FOR GO - EIGHT FOR SHOW

HAYDEN MITCHELL'S BLOWN HEMI R P/U: AS GREG SAYS , "NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL A HOT ROD!"

Footnote: In preparing this stuff for the page, we found ourselves with a terminal dose of banger-envy. Sure, we got one for the races, but one of those sitting on engine stands has got to happen in a street car. The eyes cross, and glaze over; distinct images appear in front of us and we go off on a vibratin’, noisey , jostling, imaginary bacchanal.......we can feel ONE-TWO-FOUR-THREE coming out of our chest and the mind’s eye has us in the first long-time dream: a 30-31 coupe, la-de-da, but that’s been there too long...gotta freshen it up. I know! Let’s get a........................................ (you’re going to have to fill this in because we’re not tellin’ any more. Somebody will claim it as their own and we’ll look like copy-cats when we finally get to it!!!) and we’ll get the nicest one we can find, that needs no body work or paint or interior work, and we’ll cave in the posture and we’ll put in a k-member and a hopped up banger with a flathead? No, a Riley 4-port? No, a...........oooooh, this is tough..........decisions..........and a Columbia? No, a quickie? No, an OVERDRIVE, that’s it........nooooooo. See ya next month, we gotta go do some reading........and look at some old pictures.....................and call that old guy who invited us over to see his shit..................and....and..........isn’t this how they ALL begin?!