Hot Rods Any father and son stories out there?

I have one, sort of...

https://www.jalopyjournal.com/forum/threads/a-really-stupid-trip.990380/

 

My dad was not a car guy per se but that didn't stop him from taking great pride in what he owned. In exchange for my allowance I washed and waxed his car one day when I a young un. He came in after inspecting the long roof and told me to go back out and finish the job. Seems I had forsaken the tires and hubcaps. He said "a clean car with dirty tires is like wearing a tuxedo with filthy tennis shoes".

I hear his words every time I wash my cars, and I make sure the tires are neatly detailed. I miss him...and my allowance.

 

Bandit Billy you triggered a fond memory of the same situation..Washing my dads car and using a shammy to dry it...He also pointed out to water stains and thanks to him im a detail oriented person..I thinks its so important to take pride in anything you do...The allowance was a motivator..lol

 

My dad knew zilch about cars but I was obsessed at a young age. He tolerated it but shook his head a lot. I've got three sons now, none are really into cars but all have been on road trips in POS old cars with dad which gave us great stories and memories. My youngest likes racing so we go to the local dirt track as much as possible.

 

My dad didn't start building hot rods until I was about 40-45. I got the "bug" very young and kept messing with hotrods. When my son was pretty young he got hooked on fast cars, then at 15 & 1/2 he begged me to let him buy a 50 Ford deluxe coupe. He had no interest in the flathead so I took it and put it in a nice little 50 ford tudor sedan. We buuilt a 400 sbc for it but he changed direction before it ever turned a wheel. Then he wanted to pro-street it so we did and again, after it was done, pro street went out of style.
Now, he's had a pro shop build a new chassis for the car, bought all NOS body panels for it and built a twin turbo, 1200 HP LS with 6 speed and a 9 inch for it and it's really close to being drivable.

 

I guess I do. I grew up with a father who always built Hot Rods and who eventually opened his own shop that I am proud to be a part of. When I was 5 years old my father asked me if I'd like to build my own hot rod someday and I said yes. Back in the 70's he bought a 32 roadster glass body shell for $200 from a local speed shop and decided he wasn't going to build it for himself so he gave it to me at 5 years old. After that as the years went by he and I started collecting parts to put it together. In 2000 I had enough parts and after having a frame built we were able to start my dream build. After 5 years of he and I working on it together we both got to cruise around in it as it was my turn to help him fix and rebuild his 35 Ford after it got crashed. Dad and I work together, and we cruise to all the shows togther with our Hot Rods and I wouldn't change any of it for anything. I'll post a picture of what he gave me and what my car finally ended up looking like.

 

Hello,

Our dad was a Buick guy from his first Buick fastback sedan he bought in 1946. For the next 38 years, he bought a new Buick sedan every 4 years. He was not a guy that repaired anything on his Buick sedans. Although, the sedans never had a scratch or repair that needed work. He had a good friend in Los Angeles that took care of his cars and we always saw the end result of maintenance.
This is a similar 1953 model sold in late 1952…

So, in late 1952, he just got a new 4 door two tone color blue/white 4 door Buick sedan. It was new so his idea was it was not going to need any help for the future. Then he decided to join his friends and families down in Baja Mexico just 150 miles south of the border, in a beach side camping area for some rock and shore surf fishing. Not many people knew of this place and it took quite some time below the border crossing to get where we were.

But, as our dad was a crazy fisherman, he was determined to go see his friends and stay a week in a tent for all of us. It was a very small trailer campground and we were already accustomed to living in a small trailer when we arrived in Long Beach in 1946.

Jnaki

We were driving for hours and after we crossed the border, the land/highway was barren. The road signs were were familiar with in the USA were non existent. No GPS back in 1953. So, we had to go with our dad’s thinking of where the turn off to the cove and beach would be located. We drove past the last city and kept going for another couple of hours.

By this time our mom was tired of driving and our dad was showing signs of not knowing where he was headed. (looking at every small indention of a road or dirt path leading to miles of curvy driving towards the beach area.) From the main highway, it was empty and barren with a few homes scattered wide spaced, between each property markings.

Then, after we went down this dirt road, we rounded a corner and lost track of the ocean miles away. My mom then shouted, “The ocean is right down there!” that scared my dad. As he turned the sharp blind corner, the right front wheel dropped into a deep gully. The rear wheel was almost off of the road, too, but our dad stopped in time. We could not move forward or back up without two wheels for power. The right rear wheel was slightly dangling into the gully. Luckily, we did not flip over.

We started to pile rocks under each tire to keep us from rolling over. But, it was a never ending chore. we all made sure the big Buick would not flip into the gully. It was our only shade protection, too. So, after spending hours trying to figure out how to get the big Buick out of the ditch, our dad stopped working. He needed help. My brother and I helped as much as we could, but did not have the power to pull the car out of the gully/ditch.

So, our dad selected the road that he said would lead us to the beach campground. So, my dad took off with a Thermos full of water to go for help and we stayed with our mom in the Buick. The house near the beach was very tiny and the walk would take all morning. My brother and I gathered a lot of surrounding loose rocks to put in the gully under the tire or close by to give it some purchase, when it was time.

My mom was all distraught and kind of gave up. We all sat in the car after we piled up rocks under both right side tires. Then we sat in the sedan to get out of the sun. We all fell asleep and did not know what time it was, but the sun was past noon.

Finally, I saw a cloud of dust from the road near the beach. It looked like a truck, but it was miles away.

Then, a stake-bed truck with a bunch of people in the back was slowly coming up the road, leaving a trail of dust to show they were coming to us. Yea! Our dad was inside of the cab. Finally after many long minutes passed, they arrived. Initially, they tried to pull the car out of the gully, but that failed.

Then the rope tied to the axle housing and several 2x4 sticks forced on the rocks, under each tire, with a guy holding it down for pressure, worked. The leader started the motor and the truck backed up, the guys pulled down on the 2x4 sticks and everyone pushed the front of the Buick as hard as they could, including my brother and me, too…

Finally, the big two toned Buick 4 door sedan moved back out of the gully and we were saved!

Our dad gave the workers, plus the truck owner a lot of thanks, water, food, snacks, and a ton of money. We were still many miles away from the campground, but at least we were finally on the road and moving toward the beach and camping with friends. Whew !!!

But, after a short while driving down the dirt road, our dad stopped and turned around at the first large space. He said he could not be certain that the campground was down there on the sand. After the fiasco, he had his doubts... So, he turned around and headed back to the main highway back for a couple of hours, to the resort hotel, a nice pool, great food and plenty of relaxation. It was some vacation that will keep the memories flowing for a while.

 

Boys and cars… After many trips across the country from OKC to So Cal and back, my wife's family stayed in Manhattan Beach for a couple of years.

Hello,

Being the youngest of three kids is a low man (boy) on the family pole. The two older sisters, my wife included as a little kid, always played tricks on the little brother. In this old photo taken in 1955 on a street in Manhattan Beach, CA the two sisters got in the street side door and made faces at the brother that was running up to the car.

Then the sisters ducked down to the floor, to disappear, leaving the car looking like an empty car.
(“gg-gurls!!!” was heard) wondering what happened to the sisters that the brother was so worried… HA!

These are part of the stories that were told in a family get together events. It was while everyone was looking over a slide show of old slides (plus photos recreated for everyone) for the ailing dad, who was in the last hurrah of the last family gathering for all of us.

NOTE: From the time of my wife’s activities with our college era and all through our lives involving both families, we have seen the interaction of her brother and her dad. The brother was a teenager in the late 60s and dressed to the hilt like all other teenagers back then. It was not the best era of clothing styles, but a lot of teens thought it was.

This was a stirring pot for the dad and son. We heard it discussed many times and always ended with someone leaving the house slamming the door on the way out. Vests, long straggly hair, motorcycle boots, sideburns and some had mustaches… the 69-71 look… Ha! Compared to the skinny tie and no button down white, short sleeve, dress shirt, it was night and day. We already had stares with our own 60’s clothing styles, it did not matter, we were already out of the house and living our own lives. But for the last remaining kid in her family, it was a sore spot…

But, as teens from that era interacted with older folks, this duo continued on during the family directions to a location talks. Even during the whole family together events, the heated discussions of who knew which way to go to get to a specific location was a key topic. The other part of the family always had a good laugh at both of the father and son going at each other verbally. It was a good thing it was mixed company or the sometimes heated discussions would have pointed fingers and “loud, non family accepted,” wording…

Jnaki

One of the last discussions was when it came up to driving directions. Both did not know specifically which way to go, but had their ideas of the “right way.” When my wife and I heard of this discussion, we both laughed and understood the conflict stemmed from a long time ago during the late 60s teen years. Who was right and you can go %%$#@.

Despite all of the conflicts between father and son, this was a good laughable one. The blind leading the blind… ha!

In our own household, we all know who has the correct directions to just about any location in So Cal. Since I do most of the driving during/after high school exploratory ways, the shortest and least amount of difficulties is always in the game. So, time to get somewhere and how to go someplace is always simple and easy… “Go ask Nak!”

NOTE 2:

But, for my own sanity, during my own dad’s travels to the Rose Bowl football games was a wonder in knowledge. When we drove to the games, he had specific routes in mind and it was not the common freeway to local streets during the rush hours leading up to game time. Taking into account the traffic from the Rose Parade and fleeing spectators, we hit some unusual routes that he had many years experience as a young adult driving to and from such activities in the Los Angeles areas. As the primary driver in the modern times, there was never an argument as I knew, he knew the best routes.

Even when we took the charter busses to the games, the driver was lost in the after game traffic and we all thought it was doomsday until the wee hours of the morning. But, my dad came through with a suggestion from his own files for specific streets in the area. Within several minutes, had us flying away from the mess into open roads leading back to Long Beach. The fellow travelers from Long Beach were grateful for my dad’s knowledge and routes. YRMV

 

Dad was too busy to mess with cars much, but he always took good care of those he had. I know I got his appreciation of ownership from him.
When we were kids there was the annual 500mi trek from Saskatoon to Mom and Dad's hometown of Winnipeg to visit the Grandparents. One of the first times by car was made in Dad's battleship grey Triumph Mayflower; it was also the last for that car. There is a bridge in Winnipeg which goes over the industrial area rail yards. Because of this there is an extremely steep, short approach to either end of the bridge with traffic signals at the bottom. The family were merrily on our way to see cousins one afternoon which required crossing this bridge - normally not a big deal, but this day traffic backed up from the lights at the far end, over the tracks and half-way down the side we were on. Of course, when the light changed up ahead and traffic began to move, all we could do was slide backward with that gutless little car forcing everyone behind to backup as well. Dad was so mortified, that we went back to Grandma's and he walked to the corner paint shop and purchased a case of spray bombs. The next day was spent in the back lane masking with tape and newspapers and spraying the car a dark blue so no one would recognize the "fool in that grey piece of junk"! Best part was, when back home, dad bought a '54 Pontiac which eventually became my first car!

Internet pic of a Triumph:


-Dave