MAGAZINE

We were getting away with something.

Here we were, doing the chore, on a noble mission on behalf of a crowd of Rodneys that would retrace our path in about a month, and we'd probably be praised for performing the service and...............we were on a freakin' vacation!

THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE ESSAY: WE JUST NEEDED TO SHOW SOME CUSTOMS

The two of us had run together quite a bit in hot rods, but probably had never ridden together much more than go to the beer store in his Four Port Riley. Think about it. As nice as it is to have your Lady along with you, it's interesting to have a fellow rod man along, who is usually in another car running along side of you. The talk is raucous. You tell stories on yourselves, and on mutual friends. You think outloud because there's someone with whom to share the thoughts. And your secrets are out. What? Secrets?

Yeah. You know all those funny little noises and adjustments that you ignore because you are the only one who hears them? Take a gearhead for a ride and answer up. Your buddy isn't gonna hold with any sub-cool maintenance on your ride is he? "What's that groan in the column?".

"Oh, I knew you'd hear that. I just have to loosen the shaft and grease the bushing in the mast...............shit. I was going to do that". It's not nit-pickin'. It's just observation. He knows I have the tech to fix it. He knows that I knew it needed fixin'....... Doesn't he?

Wouldn't it be a shame if all the maintenance you did was just a defense mechanism....to avoid criticism? No, Hop Up Guys work the tools because it's fulfilling, and it needs done. If you're at peace with it all, then the constructive observation is taken the way it is given.....just conversation.

Odds are you'll learn something from the cat in the right seat, too.

As you ascend the mountain he thinks out-loud, "Gettin' a little rich...." Yeah. Stingey air, same carb adjustment.( You won't have this conversation in your computer-thinkin', fuel-injectin', science-shiftin',planned obsolescence modern car, will ya?)

That gurgle. I always hear it in this car when we get into higher elevations, and I like it. Is it because it sounds good? Who knows? It sounds different. Maybe subliminally I know that the mal-adjustment is a signal that I'm going somewhere. That a hardship could occur because we have ascended too much mountain......'been too adventurous....gone too far from the call-boxes. We might get stranded......have to stay over for parts to be shipped in...by wagon train.......Oh, come out of the ether, man.......it's just a gurgle and that-there's a taxi-cab running down hill in the opposite direction, any damn way.

RAT CUSTOM AT EL MIRAGE

"Wanna grab a sandwich?" "Good idea."

You pick a little place that has neon beer signs, a cedar fence around it, and a mountain illusion to it. It should have a mountain look to it ..that's where it is. In the mountains. But it's no fast food joint, it's a little place that you know is a local hangout....you know that the food will be what you expect, you know it's a place where you'd come for a beer and some familiar conversation if you were naturalized to this hamlet. And the roadster looks hep in the setting......its' quarters slimed with 50 miles of fenderless running in melted snow....you look over your shoulder at it as you walk up the stairs, complaining that it sure hurts to fold-up in that thing for extended runs....all the while, you can hardly wait to get back in it and see if that gurgle is still gonna be there. Then you look back at it again.

Coffee-Chow-Map-Gow.

Downhill..... Compression run...... Grab a gear and listen to that trans whine a little. Absolutely ideal autumn colors, coupled with two and a half lanes of new asphalt......was this supposed to be work? It is not. This was an unexpected perquisite. Simple pleasures, boys; we're satisfied with simple pleasures, here.

Jim tells me that the berg we're rolling through now is the place Multi came from...............Roy (Multi) Aldrich...T Man....more on him later..................

It's back to civilization, hook up on the interstate and stretch the little roadsters' legs a little....no more gurgle......cleared its' throat once and....damn , it sounds good , terrorizin' an on-ramp...Third.....fourth....fifth, just as ya pass that Smoker with the tandem trailers.....waaaaaaaa...wah!...uhhhhhhhhhhh!..... Musta sounded bitchin when that last gear-change went off outside his windwing...........

Well, our little ride was over, mission accomplished , and we still had about a hundred miles of errands to run before we got back home, put the car in the garage and realized we'd have to wash it up again, tomorrow. For a parking lot car show. It's for charity and one of the Roadster Club guys is helping to put it on, and we'll go, and we'll smile and we'll be happy to participate....but all the while, we'll be wishing we were at "work".

So it is year end. Happy Hanukka, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year. 1999 is already full of interesting look-forward things to do. Simple things. Do them, boys.

And remember to ignore your detractors; dismiss imitators; and cherish those who are generous with their knowledge....it's passed on with generosity and we're duty-bound to pass it on again.............ya Fuckers!