Hot Rods It Was A Great Day At The Beach, Charlie Brown

We had only seen it in magazines. Next in line for qualifying, we watched the blue Willys launch from the starting line like a BB out of a sling shot. Squinting into the sun, the parachute blossomed from the back of the car. We heard over the speakers, " 11.21 seconds, and...........One HUNDRED thirty TWOOOO miles per hour !". We all looked at each other with a slight shaking of heads, and managed only a couple of one word reactions; "Keeeeeeerap!" and a quiet, "Unbelievable.". We pushed our dusty black Duece to the line, and Tommy started getting fuel pressure with our recycled Army tank and hand pump. We all knew at that moment, the sun was setting on our day at the beach.

That hot dusty day we were caught square in the crosshairs of the drag racing
transition from a fun amatuer sport, into a professional big business. We had a stock bodied '32 Ford five window, scrapped together in a dirt floor alley garage by a rag tag group of blue collar college kids. Never again would a car like ours be the fastest street car at the strip. What we didn't realize until years later, was that we were the Instamatic camera. We were the 8 track tape. We were the five pound bag phone. Like thousands of other racers at that time, we had put together junkyard and used parts. We had spent hours digging through the boxes and shelves in the basement of Bandimere's speed shop in downtown Denver. We had painted two houses in return for engine machine work. Our car smelled like sweat. It smelled like 15 cent McDonalds hamburgers. It smelled like dollar pancakes at 2AM at the truck stop on the edge of Ft. Collins. Several cars that day smelled like steak, crepes, and money. The contrast could not have been more severe. It was tattered jeans posed next to an Armani suit. Suddenly in the mid 60's, our friendly sport was changing at warp speed, and we did not have the time or money to keep up. The parachute on the back of that Willys had floated us all back down to earth and reality.

Tommy's father was seriously ill; the family dairy farm was waiting for him.
Denny had overcome his stuttering well enough to be certified as a special needs teacher. Steve was entering Presbyterian seminary. My Grandfather was holding a place for me on the D&RGW railroad bridge gang while I sweated admission to pre-med graduate school. Driving spikes in the hot Utah desert sun at $3.35 per hour, two dollars over minimum wage, was big money; I couldn't turn it down.

We never raced B/GS 007 again. Three months later it was sold. I was the
last to give it a pat on the hood as it was loaded on the trailer. I had a lump in my throat, and at that moment, I really knew what the word bittersweet meant. We all needed the money, but we were not quite ready for the page turn of seeing our dusty black Duece roll away. For a brief moment in life, we had made the bright lights of center stage. A big dream had been brought to life in that little garage.

I held a faded black and white photograph in my hand the other day, and I
thought about the dirt floor gang. One gone from cancer, one horribly disabled from the senseless Vietnam war, and one, whereabouts unknown.

The sun had gone down on that chapter of our lives.

But it sure was a great day at the beach, Charlie Brown.

 

Thanks for sharing

 

Great story, time passes and moves along with or without us.
Sometimes great memories are all we are left with.
Thanks for telling the story.

 

Great story,well written. Thank you.

 

now you can buy a brand new car that will go 11.70's @115 in the quarter without using a drop of gas.

 

Wow.........there are many like you out there that have the memories of how it was before it became a corporate game in the upper ranks. Thank you for sharing that glimpse into the thoughts of someone who was there.

 

Fantastic story it made me smile when I read it and made me wish that I was there with you helping you turn wrenches on it. Great pictures of serious looking 32 five window. This is why we are all here to remember how it was and make new memories too. Do you remember how fast it went and do you have any idea where it might be now?

 

Great story and that's the way it was back in the early days.

 

Thank you for sharing !

 

The Power of the Written Word is incredible.
Thank You for a great trip back to, some say a better place in time.
A great story with 3 fabulous Pics!
Thank You!

 

Words are powerful. Yours brought back a lot of memories. Well done.

 

Each and every one of our lives is flying by like that Willys you guys were inspired by. This is a great place to share it. Many ups and downs in life. Hopefully more ups than downs. Kent thank you. Please post any other pics and stories related. That was a great read and cool car. Must have been a great time while it lasted. You've never forgotten.

My Hotrod memories are being seared into my memory every time I get out as well.

 

One of the best I've read on the HAMB. Thank you

 

Thank you very much for sharing, really enjoyed reading.

 

Great story Kent,Fun read.Now if you would go back to your previous thread,you'll see I found your Roadster....

 

Wow! A real life Henry Gregor Felson story ! That's cool.

 

I think there are also a million other stories like this out there.
One thing about life is that change is constant.
Make the best of it and don't live in the past.

 

Thank you.

 

Every good thing ultimately gets taken over by big bucks. Drag racing, rod runs, riding Harleys, Bonneville. Once the pioneers have got it dialed in, they get eased out. So far, TROG is still lookin good.

 

This needs to be a featured thread...great writing.

 

Thanks for sharing. Was a nice read.

 

Thank you all for the kind comments. Hopefully Charlie Brown has brought back some wonderful memories and/or given new insight into a different time in our sport, and indeed, our country.

Two readers recognized that I edited pretty severly from the spoken presentation, and wished that I had included the bit about our cute little garage landlady. I wanted to keep brief for this format, but if readers of HAMB are interested in the paragraph about Mrs. Mac, I will put it in; otherwise, we will leave Charlie Brown alone.

Squeeze everything out of your day at the beach; they don't last forever.

Kent

 

Yes Mrs Mac Please. Gary

 

I'm old enough to have had several days at the beach!
I couldn't tell the story nearly as well as you did. Well done.

 

Thanks for posting this story. I keep learning a lot from all the guys in Denver.
I hold those schmoes in high esteem & I am proud to call them my pals.

 

Thank you for the story. Very well told. I remember all to vividly the day I realized my B/MP Chevelle was too slow and would never again be competitive. Corporate dollars had crept in, no longer a sport for us one-car garage guys. Sad day, but glad I was there to experience the upside.

 

Great story, great writing. Thanks for sharing.

 

Pictures painted with words. Nice writing, great story. Time marches on.

 

What a great story!
You can hear the sounds and smell the odors.
Thanks for sharing it.

 

Thank you for that. Really well done.