As I’ve slaved away in the shipping and receiving department here at The Jalopy Journal World HQ, I’ve damn near lost all sense of self and time. I was getting to the point to where I was thinking in terms of zip codes rather than coherent sentences and decided it was high time for me to take a break. With no better options available, I hopped in my truck and headed west towards Rex Rods with a roll of film and my trusty camera in hand.
The goings on at Rex Rods are always eclectic in nature. There’s the ever controversial Wade coupe that’s now in final assembly after years and years of build time. There’s the Tardel/Cochran phaeton waiting on a flathead. There’s a historical gem with more Texas history to it than the Alamo. There’s another model-a coupe that is probably the best designed in the house. And then there’s my ’38… a car that rivals even the Wade coupe in build time statistics.
I shot in black and white hoping to catch the mood of the joint. But images can’t really catch the pure environment created by the soft sounds of body hammers, air tools, laughter, and Snoop Dog over the PA. There’s lots going on at all times and from all angles, but it’s never as loud as you think it would be. It’s relaxing, but tense… sort of like that music the masseuse plays before she tortures you.
It was also good while it lasted. I’m back to packing t-shirts and calendars.