History Seemed like a good idea at the time.Post your epic fails.

Mine was a paint job too, my first one not using rattle cans....
OT VW Bug, sanded that puppy smooth, primed it with red oxide primer I bought at the parts store. Bought the baby blue at NAPA, one gallon of enamel and a gallon of thinner. Paint turned out great for a first timer spraying outside, didn’t even get any bugs in it!

Started putting body back on the frame about a month later, noticed some bubbling, wtf? Car sat thru the winter before I could get back to it, by that time, the paint was coming off in huge strips. Went back and looked at the primer I had bought, it was Rustolem oil based primer for their paint. The NAPA automotive paint didn’t stick to it, it eventually almost all peeled off leaving that red oxide primer. Was still like that when I sold it, unfinished. I just couldn’t get the urge back to put it back together. That Rustolem will stick to anything, but nothing would stick to it but their paint.

 

Hello,

It was the summer of 1964 and we were in our first summer living away from home (beyond high school). I had saved up enough to rent a small (very small) one room apartment on the main cross street of Belmont Shore, just steps away from the famous 2nd Street. To make the cost less, I had a roommate. I had my own bedroom, it was a giant walk-in closet with a mattress on the floor.

Our clothes were hanging overhead, there was one window, one door, etc. It was a small place. The toilet was outside of the main door in its own door way, while the shower and sinks were in the common laundry room. The shower was in the corner with a wrap around curtain and a view out of the corner window towards the ocean.

The address was on Park Avenue with the main owners residence in unit A, there was A, B, C, D, and we were apartment E. Today, it would not qualify as an apartment, but a converted storage section of a single car garage. Actually, when the owner rolled into her single car garage my bedroom wall trembled. Then we could see the owner walk by, ankles only as the window was sidewalk height. Needless to say, we were in the backyard attached to the garage and another unit above us. Since the yard sloped, we were sort of underground.

The epic fail was my 1958 black Chevy Impala was stolen one summer night. It was already built up with a Racer Brown Cam and kit, a C&O Stick Hydro, 4:56 gears. It had its day at Lions and was now basking in the local street scene all over So Cal. In the previous months prior to the hot summer cruising season, I had the drums and axles re-drilled to fit a Buick bolt pattern. I had just purchased a record breaking deal on some pristine, Buick Skylark Wire Wheels. Despite the cost of altering the drums and axles, it was well worth the effort.


The Impala was the only 58 Impala in So Cal with Buick Skylark Wire Wheels. It was still fast, but now, had some custom touches added to make it go and show.
Thanks @themoose

Jnaki

We had the word spread out to us that there was a group of thieves after hot cars with special parts. So, no alarms back then, but caution was taken when parked in huge lots or restaurants. It was always inside of our two car garage and usually parked in the driveway of my friends that I visited. It was a fun way to show off your car and cruise around So Cal. Those Buick Wire Wheels just added something extra .

So after a long cruise to Laguna Beach, Newport and Balboa, we were back at our very small apartment. There was no garage for me, so I had to park it on the busy Park Avenue in front of the houses. But, my friends were part of the security for my Impala. When we got back to the parking spaces, in front was a sedan belonging to the girl in the upper apartment. She was not leaving until early morning for her job, so we had safety there. So, I nudged up to her bumper. Then my friend rolled his sedan up to my rear bumper and tow hitch.

It looked safe and secure for the night. As we were having a great time in our small apartment, listenng to music, laughing and telling stories. Around 11 pm, a couple of girls we knew walked into the small place.

The first thing spoken was:

“Where did you park your Impala?”

“ Didn’t you see it right out in front of the building? …NO!”

“ What do you mean, no? As all of us ran out of the tiny apartment heading for the front of the big property.

There was the upstairs girl’s old sedan still there and my friend’s sedan sitting there, but where the #$@% was my Impala? The empty space was puzzling. How could anyone take the car wedged into that tiny space? There was barely enough room to back up. My friend’s sedan has tiny scratches in the middle of his front license plate, but we over looked it.

Now, the hunt was on for searching. We called the police and filed a report about a stolen car. Several police cars put out a full city search as they knew about this so called theft ring that was somewhere in town.

After hours of driving in my friend’s car to the dark places we knew about in the So Cal area of Long Beach, Belmont Shore, Lakewood, and Signal Hill, we were worried that it was going to end up stripped and burned. It was getting to be around 1:30 AM and we stopped at a neighborhood hangout bar for one last stop and questions. Wouldn’t you know it, someone had seen my black 58 Impala cruising around on the street just out in front of the bar.

Immediately, we drove to the nearest park and hidden lot a couple of blocks away. Upon driving into the parking lot, it was empty. But, in the farthest space under a tall thick tree, was the 58 Impala sitting on 4 milk crates with the tires and wheels missing. The doors were left wide open and the windows were rolled down. Being black on black in the dark, it was easy to drive by the park and miss seeing the action going on in that far corner. We contacted the police and they came, took photos, and called for a flat bed truck to take my Impala to the LB Police impound yard for further investigation.

Those idiots took my car and did not do any damage, except to steal the 4 Buick Skylark Wire Wheels and tires. They also neatly unscrewed my custom black aircraft, small tachometer and cut the wires. There was no damage, anywhere on the car. But, they failed to open the trunk…inside the trunk was my 5th Buick Skylark Wire Wheel and spare tire. I made my original purchase cost by selling this pristine 5th wire wheel to some custom car guy for his show car.

The whole thing was an epic fail, despite the precautions I took to keep the Impala safe

The 58 Impala was sold with black Buick rims and new tires in 1964 prior to purchasing my 1965 red El Camino.

 

only one dumb car thing pops up. oil change on my 62 Caddy and for the very first time in my life the rubber filter gasket stayed on the block so when I started it up the oil started pouring out. you would think two would be better than one but that was not the case.

lucky for me I expect calamity every time I do something so the first thing I do after startup is look for leaks.

 

It was gonna be the most epic burnout of all time....

 

*******************************************************************************

Well, "Epic" was the right word to use there.

Roger

 

Yeah them bias ply tires really hook up!

 

I think Rustoleum worked very hard to develop their clogmaster nozzles with a hole too small to clean with a pin

 

nothing a little JB weld can't fix...

 

It didn't happen to me, but I saw it happen. a local high school kid had his father's almost new 1961 Ford Galaxie out for a ride. He was going to do a burnout. He put the car in neutral, revved the engine and dropped it in gear. The front universal joint broke, and the drive shaft dug into the street leaving the rear wheels off the ground about 4 feet in the air, I wondered how he explained that to his father.

 

Did my last oil change before the big sleep this winter on my 36. It has a remote oil filter about three feet back down the frame from the engine, I always pre fill the filter before I put it on, but for some stupid reason this time I put a dry filter on, no idea why, brain fart I guess. Started the old girl, (small journal 327) waited and.....waited.....and waited for oil pressure till I heard the fateful knock, and right then developed oil pressure, so, let it run. Kicked my own ass around the shop, (yes you can do that), but haven't heard that scary noise since. Couple months from now will tell the tale, saving for a rebuild though.

 

I have two in a 3 days...

Was getting late and changed the oil in my kids car. Pulled the drain pan to the front of the car, fired it up to pull it off my ramps, backed it down....let it sit.

Now it's about dark out, walked around the front of the car...yes, not just step in the pan, but catch the edge of it. 4 bags of cat litter it's contained.

Pulled (a few hours ago) the engine and tranny out of another kids car, thought I had enough clearance for my tranny plug to miss the hood latch...well...no, as I stood there looking around for something to catch the ATF with, I said fuck it...off to Dollar General for more cat litter.

Lottery=money=lift=shop to put it in=peace to my mind.

 

I was working on my first streetrod, a BBC 1937 Chevy two door. I was in my garage 'shop'. I don't remember what part it was but it was rusty and a bolt was stuck. I had it on my makeshift workbench and was heating it with a propane torch hoping to free up the bolt. The torch head wasn't as tight as it should have been and after a few seconds flames burst out from around the torch base where it screwed into the tank.

This startled me and I took a step back. This caused me to trip backwards over the lawnmower and knock over a can of gasoline. The gas poured out right on the piece of concrete that my butt had come to rest upon (while I was still holding the flaming torch of death). Now if any of you have ever had gas soak thru your jeans and fruit of the looms onto your private area you haven't ever experienced a 'tingling feeling'!

Fortunately, the side entry door was open which allowed me to grenade toss the flaming torch out onto the front lawn. With that death threat taken care of, I leaped to my feet and tore off my jeans and fruit of the looms. I completed that task just as the neighbor lady pulled up into the adjacent driveway.

In the meantime, the torch had done its duty and had ignited the dead brown summer grass of my front yard into a fast moving midwestern version of a California wildfire.

What my neighbor made of my version of an Indian dance around a fire, I don't know. She did however shield her young daughter's eyes as she rushed into her house.

I too rushed into my house to shower, put on dry clothes, and then to hurry back out to put out my front yard.

My neighbor never mentioned the event and I never brought it up!

 

Epic fail? Which one?

The latest was a week ago and I was blading the snow off my gravel driveway. I have an old (1964 so it is HAMB eligible) John Deere 1020 that I've had for 20+ years. The old tractor leaks coolant from somewhere and I simply notice the temp gauge rising and then top it off.

This time I was in a great big hurry so I stopped by the garage and grabbed a plastic jug of 50-50 Prestone. I mix my own for those whom are keeping score. I poured the gallon of 50-50 mix into what I thought was the radiator. There are two filler caps on top- one for the radiator and the other for the fuel tank. After a couple of minutes the tractor sputtered and died and I assumed it had run out of fuel. I got off the tractor and walked by the right side to check for fuel in the glass bowl.

It was green. Any questions?

 

i loaned my portable air compressor to an old girl friend years ago so she could spray her house. she called me up mid day to bitch about what a dumb fucking place to put the gas tank. had to crawl up on the hood with a gas can what a stupid thing. the gas tank is on the tongue of the trailer, the radiator cap is on the hood. not my screw up, but fits with larry's

 

My car was broke down so I borrowed dads hot rod truck to drive to high school. Decided to show everyone what a bad ass I was after school so I did a huge power brake with it, smoke for blocks. Drive it home and parked it. That night dad came into my room and slapped me upside the head wanting to know what happened to his truck. We walked outside and I guess when I was doing the cool power brake it slid up against the curb and changed his new white letter Kelley Super Chargers into a 2” whitewall. That was the last time I drove his truck.


Sent from my iPhone using H.A.M.B.

 

Laying in corn silage for the dairy cows back in the eighties. My uncle backs up to the stack with a 58 f600 a bit sideways lifts the hoist and tips the truck on its side. He is ok pride is hurt walks off. I pull the truck back on its wheels lower the bed try to start it. Wont start, hydo locked, gas in the cylinders of the Y block 292. Un deterred I remove the plugs and have my cousin crank it over. To this day I clearly remember the loud bang and something resembling a small a bomb going off and engulfing the entire area under the hood in flames as I realized it would have be smart to unhook the coil. Luckily I had a five pound fire extinguisher close at hand.
B

 

FIRST:
Washed the engine in an OT (1972) El Camino at the carwash and just barely got it started. It was probably only running on half (or less) of the cylinders. I limped home and got it in the garage. I was afraid I would not get it started again so I left it running. I guess I thought that the distributer cap would dry itself out sufficiently (stupidity or ignorance???) on its own. I'd heard that WD-40 sprayed in the distributer cap would break up the water continuity without removing the cap and drying it out properly. Being a sbc the distributer cap had the window for adjusting the points. I lifted the window cover and sprayed the WD-40 into the distributer in a running engine. Not very bright on my part but the flames that shot out sure were purdy. Of course then I took the cap off and dried it out with rubbing alcohol or something similar like I should have done in the first place.

SECOND:
Somewhere up above someone mentioned those clamp on coil helper springs. Many moons ago when I was a teenager I had a 1964 Sport Fury (sure wish I still had it). 1968 GTX 440. Four speed. etc., etc. I found and bought two wide Chrome wheels and tires. Wheels were around 10-11" wide, but I never measured them without the tires on. 12" tread on the "Indy" tires, as we called them back then. Of course these didn't fit under the wheel openings. So I bought a pair of those helper springs and started to install them. Even with the rear jacked up and the rear wheels off of the ground there still wasn't enough room between the axle and the frame for them to go in. I removed the rear shackle bolts to drop the rear lower in order to get them in. I had to put a jack under the rear of the leaf springs to get the bolts back in. At that point the leaf springs were actually trying to pull the axle upward to overcome the lift of the helper coils. The wheels/tires were now sticking out of the car about 4" on each side. I thought it looked way cool, but remember I was only about 18 at the time. It was then time to take it for a spin, right? Got out on the street only to find out that there were no brakes! The rubber brake hose between the frame and axle had been stretched beyond the breaking point and was just flopping around under there. Luckily I survived that fiasco with no bent fenders or other damage. Performed that surgery with only a bumper jack and no jack stands. I thank God every day for taking care of me when I was too stupid to take care of myself.

THIRD:
Let's just leave this one at "remember to bleed the brakes after a brake job." Body work will ensue.

FOURTH:
As a youngster I had a job pumping gas, washing windshields, changing oil, etc. at the local Sinclair station. The cutest little blonde in town just happened to fill her daddy's huge Plymouth at that station regularly. We had known each other for years and got along very well. Once when filling the tank she and I spent about 10 minutes shooting the breeze while she sat in the car with the window down. We finally said our goodbyes and she drove off. With the hose still in the filler neck. Extreme embarrassment on my part. Unfortunately for me some time later we repeated the entire scene. Same girl. Same car. I still see her father and brother on occasion but haven't seen her in over 50 years. I wonder if she's still as cute.

These are the ones that come immediately to mind. I'll probably remember more later.

 

Did you know if you forget to put in the oil pressure sender in a fresh 283 the oil will shoot oil up about 8 feet?
Neither did I.

 

Yes I did know that, because I've done that!
Also had one of those phony little plastic lines that come with a cheap oil pressure gauge break under the dash....hot oil all over your feet and legs is not pleasant.
Glad to see I'm not alone in doing dumb stuff....