Shifts Happen

The wife and I decided to hit a few parties that her pal’s were hosting this past Saturday night. For the first time in a long while we didn’t have rain in the forecast, so we felt obligated to take the a-coupe out with us. Earlier in the day I had changed the oil and given her a bath in preparation for the night out… The car was running just smittingly.

We left our second party at around midnight to a heroes’ exit. As folks watched and rooted, we pulled out of the drive-way and on to the street. I came off the clutch at around 2500 rpm and was met with a snap and some crackles. Immediately, my mind went to th2 ’39 gearbox.

After a quick tow home (thanks AAA) and some sleep, I was able to get the top of the gear box off. My eyes were greeted by a pretty damn bald gear set and a cracked case. Hopped-up flatheads have been torturing ’39 boxes for years and I took some comfort in that… I take even more comfort in knowing that I got good pals to help me get this thing back together again.

The little coupe just might make the H.A.M.B. Drags…