Edwin “Rip” Nix

You might know him as June Carter’s second husband. Or ya might not… Truth be told, not many folks know much of anything about Rip. He was a cop in Nashville, a garage owner, and despite what Hollywood might tell ya – he never drove stock cars. Autobiographies don’t tell ya much. Google tells ya less.

I was thumbing through my old stack of Hot Rod Magazines one evening and stumbled across a for sale ad in a late 50’s issue.

“For Sale: 1932 Ford Roadster. 3/4 race flathead. Quick shifter. Clean and well built. Legal for the street. Best offer. Call Rip.”

Now I don’t really know if this is, in fact, the Rip in question and I doubt anyone could give us a definitive answer, but a story was built in my head while I considered it. For whatever reason, I couldn’t get the story gone… So, I decided to write it.

It’s the typical blues short where our hero looses his woman to a “better” man, forgets who he is, and punishes himself by getting rid of everything he enjoys. Of course, none of these deeds work as therapy and he becomes a cop hoping that civil duty will. It doesn’t and he dies a lonely and sad man… who hates Johnny Cash.

As I’m closing the story out, I begin to think about that old ad I found in Hot Rod Magazine. What if Rip didn’t sell that roadster? What if Rip used hot rods as therapy instead of self (and Cash) loathing? If there is one absolute thing I’ve learned in my 31 years on this planet, it’s that driving a flathead powered hot rod puts all problems at bay if only for a bit… and that little bit of time is usually all that’s needed for a guy to get back up on his horse.

Give it a shot sometime…