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MAGAZINE
We're sick of it.
Runnin' all over creation in a 217 year old dung heap, noisy bastard leakin' from every seam, percolatin' and spillin' fluids, wobble-mount Maypop tires, hard-ass Fer-Shit seatcovers, skinny winders with wipers that only move when the motor wheezes......and ya better have seatbelts so you can hang with it if the door pops open. Exhaust fumes belchin' into the trunk, fouling your 'Boyd' costumes, bottom-out suspension actually sounds as bad as it feels when those Cal-Trans road apples get under foot, and ya better give 'er a lead if ya wanna stop before you plant an overpriced deuce grille into that Geo in front of ya. Drum binders. Humph!
Apocryphal? Yup. Exaggerated? Of course. But still, these are a few of my favorite things.
Feigning it's really that bad........ those things don't matter and we know why they don't. The hardship feels... good. Noble. Honorable. Like wigglin' a loose tooth. Yeah, it's a little chauvinistic to sacrifice comfort for the sake of sacrificing comfort, and we do know how to solve every one of those maladies......... but we won't. At least not on this one. It has a purpose..... purpose-built, they say, and that purpose is for us to be able to experience the deal the base way; no frills; in its' purest form, unsullied by the need to be a trend-setter, and the trickery of innovating a design based on a product and cleverly promoting that product as a 'trend' through your access to ....magazines.
And, despite the bumps and grinds........we done made ours better than it was, and did so pretty much like our predecessors did. We had to do it this way to experience things the way cats did when they couldn't go the easy way. Or weren't yet coached toward trends by cozy advertiser/editorial relationships. (Professionals: don't get wiggy. We know it's business and if this was a real business we'd prob'ly do it too. Selectively, rather than blatantly, though, we think. Ed.)
An' it prob'ly looks better, too. Even with no paint. At least we think so. (Who else is sittin' in the garage with us, leaning back in the plastic chair, pullin' on a Carbonelle, sippin' gift whiskey, and judging it through the smoke? Nobody.) You can't slice and slam without improving the look. That's gospel. No room for discussion, dialogue, debate or opinion there. They flat-ass look better our way..........even if their original stance is more familiar to some folks and they're stuck on that because they're used to it.
We had to do it this way because when we were realizing who we were, we couldn't get enough of the traditional cars. We'd stop breathing for a second when we got to look at some of those old photos...........we wanted it so bad........and God Bless America.
Now we get to do more of it than probably 99% of those peach-fuzzers we see in sepia tone lakes shots in the old book. No jive. We kinda miss that old yearning and - although we still have it because there is so much we want to do and time's-a-wastin'- desire is augmented by purpose...and that ain't hard to take, either.
Where were we? Oh yeah. So gettin' out of the car after a hard summer's charge is OK. It makes room for other dreams, like those in the shop. Ya see, Cali guys go in to the shop in winter time, too, it's just that they can test stuff outside a little more often than some. By now, the hours in the shop are desired and precious. What a groovy carousel ride this is.
The dreamin' turns from images of the big highway and anxious yearning for the run....... to the parts and ideas and visions of what will be. Today it's envisioning the rub-out on the rails of a frame that Tim says is ready to come home; it's imagining the sound of the motor for which we got the right crankshaft (thank, John) and new rods (Steve); it's knowing that the body work (Dave) is reported to be more-than-exceptional, and the trans got Zephyrs (Joe) and the trim is planned (Swell) and the windshield and frame are already cut and the tank fixed up (cool, Terry!) and another guy (blush) will fit and file and bend, and assemble and hook and fasten and plumb, and bearing and brake it, and noodle it, and see that the aesthetic comes out right (for him) and transport and massage all its' thousand parts and end up having more time in it than the rest of 'em.
And it'll still end up bein' 'just' a hot rod.
Well. Maybe that's all it'd be to some guys...............
Grab a Gear
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