The Jalopy Journal
Discussion in 'The Hokey Ass Message Board' started by Roothawg, Jul 3, 2019.
There is a cure for metal illness, a tetanus shot...
Yes. I feel anxious in situations that don't involve hot rods. If a conversation is not about hot rods, or tools, or finding parts......I disengage. All thoughts and media outlets ..... TV, Computer, etc revolve around hot rods. Definitely a mental illness for me, but I accept it......
I'm okay, my mom had me tested.
well I'm just nuckin futts!
Every Friday night at 8:00 PM during the racing season, back in the late 60s and early 70s, would usually find me in the top ten of the starting grid at Santa Maria Speedway and Saturdays at Atascadero, CA. Off season, any time other than my full time job, I was getting ready for the next season. I moved out of California in the mid 70s for a job and was no longer racing. The weird thing was that at 8:00 PM on Friday night, I would be nervous, edgy and know I was supposed to be at the track. I didn't enjoy being a spectator, I needed to be in competition. Racing for me was both stressful and therapeutic. I suppose you could say I was addicted and I've never fully recovered.
I always said, "Once a racer, Always a racer."
I got sick when I was 8 or 10 years old. The house next door had been sold and I was watching the new neighbors move there stuff in. They backed an old 63 chevy truck and a trailer into the drive with the most beautiful car on it I had ever seen, it was indescribable, it had the biggest rear tires I had ever seen in my life. How could this be they were two or three times bigger than any thing I had ever seen, then there were all those carbs, didnt really know much about them but it had six of them. And all that chrome even the front axle was chrome. It was red oxide primer but that didnt matter it grabbed me and my mind went wild. I am now 61 and the sickness is getting worse. The 32 It hasn't change too much he took out the 327 with six duces and installed the 454 and painted it. It still gets to me very bad. But I'll be ok.
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The year was 1999 when I got bit by the bug. I was 6 years old and staying with my grandfather for the day while my parents were on a business trip. I remember the phone ringing and my grandpa getting very excited. His good friend George had finished the break in run and was ready to Dyno the 383 Chevy engine for my grandpa's 32 Ford coupe. I hadn't cared about the car much before that day, but I could feel the excitement building. We then went for a drive up to George's shop to go see the engine run. I remember walking into George's shop, seeing the lathes, Mills, and grinding machines for the first time. I loved the smell of the cutting oils and coolants, and the look of it all had me very excited. We went back to a room in the rear of the shop and stood behind a control board and monitor looking through a window at the engine hooked into the Dyno. I had no idea what was going on at the time.
I stood there patiently waiting for something to happen for some time as my grandpa and George talked about the engine. Then I remember a few switches being flipped and a button pressed and hearing the engine roar to life. The sound was absolutely incredible! It sat there and idled with that choppy, erratic sound that I've loved since that day. As he started bringing the rpm up, I remember hearing it smooth out and the immense droning noise take over. He took the rpm higher and higher, then just slammed the throttle wide open. That sound is one I've heard many times since then, but that first time was absolutely magical to my young ears.
Since that day, I've been sick in the head.
Don't even get me started on the day I first heard a flathead v8 run open headers
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Oh you’ve never had hot rod withdrawals?
I know folks who’d tell you then you’ve not stopped
I was duped into thinking that a car centric way of life was perfectly normal. Back in the 60’s my best friend Kevin’s Dad was a mechanic at a local Chevrolet garage and worked on neighbors cars on the side to help make ends meet. People did brake jobs, tune ups, oil changes and other routine maintenance at home.
My dad drove a ‘56 Chevy as daily transportation.
Older teenagers in the neighborhood were souping up their rides, and a guy on the corner raced a coupe on asphalt. When he fired it up it would rattle our windows.
My high school parking lot was full of 50’s and 60’s iron. Cruising was a legitimate pastime, the Loop in St Paul, Porkys Drive In on University, and the Sun Drive In on Central were the local hot spots. On any given night the back row at the local A&W was full of heavy hitters looking for some action. Chevelles, Camaros, Mustangs, Mopars, Fairlanes, Galaxies, 442s and GTOs were commonplace.
The Street Rod Nationals, Street Machine Nationals and MSRA Back to the 50’s were literally in my back yard at the Minnesota State Fairgrounds
It all seemed perfectly normal, I didn’t stand a chance...
I grew up on the farm and my Grandpa thought everyone ought to love horses, cows, pigs and other animals like he did, but my cousin and I always liked things with a motor on it. It didn't matter if it was a lawn mower, tractor, truck, mini-bike, what ever.
One day (mid 1960's) we were playing around with an old Cushman truckster that we got running and we were having the time of our life peeling around the door yard. Gramps looked at us and said, "You boys don't want to do anything unless it burns gas!" I think he was a little bit aggravated, but he hit it right on the head!
Well, my cousin recently inherited our Great-Grandpa's '50 Ford F-1 with only 33,000 miles on it. He dug it out of the corner of the barn the other day and got it running after sitting for over 25 years! I wish he could see us now. We miss you Gramps...
Hi I'm Kurte and I have a Mental Illness / Addiction and I'm ready for the next Hot Rod , Rusty car , Shinny car and Kustom group meeting. To talk with other like minded individuals about our addiction .
I plead the Fifth...
I have two reasons for getting up in the morning. I must pee, and I must have my garage finished this year, so I can spend even more time reading about, and playing with, old cars.
I remember Johnny Carsen asking a famous Souix Chief (I think, Cheif Dan George), how he lived so long. His answer was, that he would drink a lot of water at night, so that he had to get up. He lived to damn near 100, and it was attitude, humour, and luck. The first two, we can change, but if the first roll is craps, we did everything else right and had nothing to lose.
Pops would say “Stock up now- before the hoarders get it all!”
He was a car guy through and through. Definitely an ailment passed via genes.
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My best friend have a 1932 Ford with hemi in it, a 1950 chevy 2 Doors, a 1955 chevy wagon, a 1956 chevy 4 Doors hard top, and a 1957 chevy 2 Doors.
He always says :i dont need all those cars but they are all essential. ..
I think i am crazy to. .
I have a 1 car garage, but still looking for a second car that i dont know where to Park it...
I spend a lot of money for my 1956 olds 98. buy the car. Buy complet rebuild 324 engine, a complet rebuild jeteway trans from usa, tons of dollars. ......
The trans broken 25 miles after i putted it into the car. (Overheated and broken)
So::yes hot rodding is an high addict
Dont forget how hard it is to play with old american cars here in France. .
Good beer fixes all kinds of ailments!!
Mental illness, not hardly it's a epidemic! HRP
If not for this...WHAT??
I agree with you and the grandkids!!!
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Sure does beat Meth.... I hope that my kids get hooked on these cars too.
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I LIKE IT
Runs like a top, doesn't even smoke, brakes are new (25 yrs. ago), drives nearly perfect, except tires need attention. This is not an illness, this is for real.
For my cousin, this is better than going to the Dr!
Don't want no cure ! re-hab is for quitters
If this is a sickness leave me in my misery......
...pleeze, pleeze promise me you'll never take my hot rods or the H.A.M.B. away.......
This sounds very familiar! Heard it many times. Gives you a good feeling helping his buddies. Then hearing the, "I told you he could fix it"
Don't want to talk to the woman or the neighbors, think I'll talk to my car, maybe ride around in it. Nice! Kind of an illness, maybe a cure.
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