Folks Of Interest Visited an elderly rodder

Hello,
Recently I have been posting/sharing with the HAMB cool parts I have uncovered of my Dad's or inquiring about items I need help identifying. Sorry, this isn't a post or a photo dealing with that. (I although have found many since my last.) But this post is about a different treasure.
Yesterday was a great weather day up here so I got going early and backed the 52 out of the garage and shined her up. I decided instead of a trip to the coffee shop I would stretch her legs and pointed her North towards Arlington about a 1 1/2-hour drive. I could have taken I-5 but it turns a little more RPM than I like at today's freeway speed so I took old Hwy 9.
Weaving thru city traffic I merged on Hwy 9 at the little town of Snohomish. Bringing the Chevy up to a nice cruising speed the GMC motor pulled effortlessly. Finding that perfect speed/rpm ratio where the exhaust flowing out of the headers and Flowmasters sounded like a nest of hornets echoing off the forests on either side. No radio was necessary.
After a nice drive I turned down an old farm road and arrived at my destination. Buffalo Enterprises.
I had heard my Dad talk favorably about the man they call Buffalo many times. I personally met him at a swap meet a few years ago and after talking he invited me to one day stop by his shop. I said I would. Today was that day.
I knocked on the door. No answer. I stuck my head in yelled "Hello" multiple times. No answer. Kind of concerned now as I knew he was an older gentleman (maybe 50 or so) and the "lights" were on, I walked into the shop, it felt like stepping back in time. No shiny walls, painted concrete floors or glistening toolboxes that looked like a dealership show room.
This was a show room of a better variety. Memorabilia from past conquests on the walls. Vintage parts with oil and grease stacked on floors and shelves. Older milling machines decorated with shavings from the latest project. Patina only made from time itself. A real old-time working guy's shop. I thought it was perfect.
Peering over parts, in the back, sitting at a milling machine hard at work was Buffalo. He looked up, I couldn't tell if he was happy to see a visitor or I was about to become part of the patina.
We exchanged greetings and remembering who I was he warmed up. I told him I have a car I wanted to show him. He got up, walked slowly outside expecting another project job. You could tell as he saw the 52 and the recognition set in. He exclaimed "My God she still runs" his pace quickened as he approached the car to the point I thought I was going to have to lasso him to keep him from falling forward. I am thinking I hope he was as excited as I.
He looked at the car and the stories he told as he reminisced were heartwarming. It wasn't dusty but occasionally I found myself wiping the corner of my eye. I asked about names from the past I recall my father had talked about in conversations. Buffalo filled in the details of who they were and what cars they raced and owned.
I could hear the phone continuously ringing in the shop and mentioned it. He said his hearing was a little off and it would go to voicemail before he could get there.
He would keep apologizing as he talked, saying he needed to get back to his customer's work and then would go with happily without prodding into another story. I wasn't objecting. On to my next History lesson. We continued talking and he explained the differences between transmissions, drivelines, bell housings, engines and other combinations from a generation I am now trying to understand. Note to myself, next time bring a pad and pencil. School was in session. The man is a wealth of knowledge with no hesitation in discussing of what is possible and required to make any combination fit. Smithsonian level of history.
In the end what started as a "Just stopping by" turned into about 4 hours of the best time I could have spent. He thanked me for the visit as I did him. I don't know which one of us enjoyed our visit more. I think I walked away the winner.
He went back into his time capsule to finish his latest project and I jumped into mine for my journey home. I was already planning my next visit. The sound of the GMC buzzing now drowned out by the stories he told still ringing in my ears.

 

COOLERISM!!!!

 

Thanks for sharing a fantastic story that paints a snapshot of a time long ago.

 

Great story. I laughed at that "older" gentleman (maybe 50 or so) part.

 

Does that 50 year old man know that you called him “elderly “? Lol

 

50 "older"? WTF?

 

I can't remember that far back

 

There are those of us who consider 50 young now.

 

Indeed.

 

I'll raise my hand for that motion. 50 was a third of my life ago.

Great story though. We like to see those young whippernsappers driving these old cars.

 

I must be old then! Jeeze!

 

Buffalo is a great guy, seems I only get to visit with him at swap meets, maybe I will get up there someday. He has quite a background in Sprint Cars, good for you, to pay him a visit !

 

Nor do I consider 50 old any longer there was a time I did though now it's a young guy about 50! The stories and information is National Treasurers yeah take notes so when your 50 and a youngster stops by in a cool lil Hot Rod you can pass them on! Joe

 

Thank you for the nice comments. Now, since most responses were about the "50 or so" part. I'll clear this subject.
I will never see 50 again. Those that know Buffalo know I was being Hmmm, generous with the comment? You know how you always guess light on a woman's weight and young on the "How old am I " question.
Same with my elderly title. I guess I could just say Visited an old guy. Lol

 

Creedence Clearwater had a song Someday Never Comes.
I have been that guy many times thinking I can do it some other day. They passed.
I don't want to be that guy anymore.

 

It's good you cleared that up.
50 is not that old. I've got boots and underwear that are 50 years old.

 

How long since you changed your skivvies and who did you change them with ? Yeah, I did ask that

 

hell 75 isn't old anymore................but thats another story............

 

Buffalo is an artist and a treasure. When I started my 52 some 20 years ago, I was made aware of a fellow in Washington State, who described himself as an old Hippie, that made numerous parts for Chevys such as mine. The first thing he did for me was to drop my original spindles so I could lower the front of my car. When I pulled the stock drive train and went with an open drive, he made and supplied the parts to lower the 10 bolt rear. He then machined and supplied the adapter plate that allowed an S-10 T-5 to bolt up to my 54 235. My 51 had even more parts from Buffalo. He did similar work for the rear in the 51. He supplied parts so I could put a dual chamber master cylinder under the 51 in the stock location. I don't think there is anything he can't do in his machine shop. I know his hearing is not so great and if he is working or machining and the phone rings, he most likely won't answer for not hearing it. He usually calls back in short order. There is something about getting parts machined from an old guy in an old shop that is about as traditional as you can get!

 

Beautifully written account of your day trip.

 

What a great story!!! Thanks for sharing- (from an ancient guy of 57 years of age).

 

I had a space next to Buffalo's at the Early Bird Swap meet for a few years running.
he is a wealth of knowledge and a very personable character.
I always looked forward to selling next to him and his buddies, 'was saddened to hear that swap is no more.
and 50? he probably has kids older than that.

 

Gr

 

Great story telling. I had a mental image of your day as I was reading.

 

What a great story. I’d love to meet the old fart. So many of these guys aren’t even available to us on the internet. And we are losing them in droves.
Thanks for the feel good story.

 

Thanks for sharing your visit with us. Its great to visit and touch base with old acquaintances, especially those who have common or overlapping interests.
Kinda made me think though, my kids are in their 50s. When folks drop in on me, they are more likely to find me slacking/sleeping in the lazyboy, I don't get caught working often enough.

 

And all of you guys tell me I'm a kid! Now I'm elderly

 

50? I've owned my 57 Plymouth more than 50 years!

 

Great story tell us another.