"First" Rides

This Polaroid is a rare shot of my first car, a 1977 Chevy Monte Carlo my  mom bought for me at the end of my senior year 1980 for $3750.

My brother took WAY too long choosing his first car a few years earlier, and mom got fed up. He ended up getting stuck with a Dodge Dart that wasn't bad but also wasn't cool. 

Ever the clever boy, I made up my mind to be quick.
We found the Monte at the 2nd lot on the first day, and I wanted it badly.
It was about $1000 over budget but the prospect of being done car shopping in the first hour instead of the first month was worth the price so I got the car and brownie points, too.

Yes, spoked rims and yellow pinstripes, we thought it was kinda pimp.
Turns out moreso than we thought.
The first time I drove it in downtown Albany NY was interesting. People would see the car, walk closer to the curb and wave. Until they got a look at me.
The body language was easy to read:
"What's that white boy doing drivin' Leroy's car? Sheeit!"

I turned the tires around so it had raised white letters instead of stripes--Goodyear Eagle 70-series by the way. Put it a good stereo. Flipped over the air cleaner lid so it could suck wind from all sides. This car could light up the tires at will, and had a ton of room inside for guitars and amps, friends, roadtrips, and drive-in movie fun. Very reliable, too.

 

This is right after I moved to Texas--still had the parking sticker from the State University Of New York/ Albany. 

And because this was the early '80s when we all drove around while drinking beer--legally, until you got wasted--I put the bumper sticker on it to seem like a more upstanding citizen. 

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I took this picture of Ken in 1987.
Had just taken him to the Harley dealer to pick up his brand new Sportster.
He'd hit too many snags in the restoration of his 1972 Triumph Bonneville and I had suggested just getting the HD so he could ride again and worry about the Triumph later.
He never did finish it.
And the Sportster was never as clean as it is in this photo again.

Just found this pic while going through Ken's mountain of stuff.
It's a bittersweet memory for me because he was riding this bike that I talked him into buying when he died, but he also got over 25 years of pleasure from it and sure does look happy.

What's That Sound?

Probably someone's heart breaking.

Last night around 1:30am or so I was in the kitchen and heard and felt a thump--enough to shake the doors and windows but not loud enough to wake anyone.

My first thought was that something the size of a deer, large dog, or human had crashed into our home at speed.

After a few minutes of window peeking I was starting to get angry at the lack of new information when I finally spotted the reflections of emergency vehicle lights between the houses on the street behind us.
Something was happening.

I opened a window just in time to hear as well as feel a repeat of the original sound followed by a fire truck's pumps cranking up, and had it all figured out.
Seconds later the sound of water spraying, loud hissing, and the sight of a huge cloud of steam rising over the houses confirmed it:



Vehicle fires don't make much noise compared to houses, but they burn really hot and exploding tires have a sound all their own.
They also don't usually warrant sirens in residential areas late at night IF no lives are in danger.


On her way to work Sylvia checked it out and called me to say that the car was still there and looked like a Mazda Miata to her, so I should get pictures.
A sad end to someone's cute and speedy little car.

My Second Car

Also my mom's last car.
Since she knew that I would end up with it sooner rather than later (my brother drove pickups and rode motorcycles) I was allowed input.
Besides, we had similar tastes--I was driving a '77 Monte Carlo, she had loved her '77 Pontiac Bonneville--we both liked mid-size General Motors cars with V8s, rear-wheel drive, and automatic transmissions.

As sick as she was, the thought of spending more than a few hours on a car lot (or 5) filled her with dread. My suggestion was to point out cars she saw on the street that appealed to her, and then I would gather some (pre-internet) intel on them. Once we decided on the model we would decide on a dealer and go make the deal as fast as possible.
Several neighbors had Oldsmobile Cutlass Supremes, so we saw some variety of them.
Chevy had an SS version of the Monte Carlo at the time which was pretty NASCAR for a woman her age but she was still interested, especially since it was MY dream car.
Too bad they only came in black that year, and the whole point of the new car was to get rid of her black Dodge Mirada.
Texas sun + black car = sweat and discomfort.


So we decided on the Olds:
I had noticed (in parking lots) that some Cutlasses had vertical grills of two different styles, but that those from GUNN Oldsmobile @ 410 and Broadway had much better looking ones that were entirely 1/2" squares that looked a LOT better, so this is how we picked the dealer.

Once on the lot, a few colors were attractive to her but we both kept coming back to white. Not only is it 20 degrees cooler inside on a sunny day, but it's also more visible to other drivers at night--and I do a lot of driving at night.
We looked at one, but a quick scan of the window sticker revealed a weak powertrain.
By this time Gary had come outside the dealership and attached himself to my mom, so I went off in search of more white Cutlasses.
The third one had a 307" V8, and with a 4-barrel carburetor!
We took it for a test-drive, then were able to get my mom into Gary's air-conditioned office.
She had plenty of car buying savvy, so the trade-in negotiations took little time.
After low-balling on a financed price, she whipped out her checkbook and asked if the same price was okay if she paid in full.
She was very tired and sick, you see, so it was "Yes" or we walk, Gary.
Played him like a cello, even though he WAS a nice fellow.

The car was a real pleasure for us both as we spent too much time driving to hospitals, and was our game chariot when we finally saw our Cubs playing the Astros in a doubleheader in Houston. I kept it spotless and gassed etc for her, and even made tapes so she could enjoy her first car with a cassette deck.



When it became my car, I started by pulling off the rubber trim strips that protected the doors from parking lot dings. They ruined the clean lines of the body, and luckily were affixed with foam tape! Instant improvement in looks.
When my brother and I were getting ready for a trip to Colorado Springs to fly our first BIG rockets, I took the Olds to our mechanic in Universal City to get an oil change and otherwise check it over for the long drive.
They were also a big Goodyear Tire dealer, and showed me a damaged tire that wouldn't survive the drive.
Should have seen the look on that guy's face when I said "Okay, give me 4 of your 70-series (fat) Eagle STs, and how about putting them on a set of these American Racing® aluminum mag wheels?"
As a longhaired metalhead (who probably had a can of beer in my hand and was smoking in the waiting room--the '80s if you recall) it was nice to suddenly get the "Yes SIR!" treatment for a change.
I then took her to a brake and suspension shop and got a set of Monroe gas shocks plus some stiffer springs by TRW.
Goodbye Mushy Ride!!

Over the next few years I built a pretty killer sound system for that era, and my brother found me the computer chip that went into the Olds 442 version of my car.
The new chip meant that if you really put your ankle into the gas pedal, emissions and gas mileage programming went out the window.
Combined with my other mods, this car took-off like a rocket and could hold that speed in curves and corners.

It was a sweet "driver's" car, with that perfect combination of performance and comfort. I had installed a nice aftermarket steering wheel that was smaller and felt better in your hands, which added to the already responsive handling.


Around '95 some woman trying to "make" a yellow light nearly killed me in this car--peed blood for a week--but I still drove it in semi-wrecked condition with lots of plastic taped over the openings for another 5 years.
Eventually sold it as a parts donor after leaving it parked behind a friend's house for a few years with the windows gone.
Very sad end to a fine ride.

As much as I love my current Dodge Dakota and the Monte Carlo that was my first, this 1985 Oldsmobile was the great love of my life when it comes to cars.
My only regrets were that nobody made a decent dual-exhaust system for it when I had the money. I was all ready to make this final upgrade for the extra horsepower and external sound quality, but nobody stepped up to the plate.
Whenever I watch the show Overhaulin', THIS is the car I wish they would restore for me.

The 789 By N2A

The company name N2A stands for No Two Alike, meaning that they will never duplicate one of their custom cars for another customer. All original.

The 789 makes me a little crazy--it's my favorite model by far.
First, you either provide a 2005-2009 Corvette ($60,000) or pay N2A to find one for you. That's your performance and reliability right there--you know the 789 is going to haul ass and corner like it's on rails.

See? All 'Vette inside, plus under the hood and everywhere else.

But the body that N2A hangs on your 'Vette is insane.
They take the look of the nose from a '57 Chevy, the sides from a '58 Impala, and the tail of the '59 (all the sexiest bits!) and make them from 80% carbon fiber and 20% fiberglas (so the paint will be smooooth) all for the bargain (?) price of another $80,000.

This is what money looks like.
The sky's the limit for upgrades beyond the minimum $140K.
And no 2 are alike.

Awesome!



Went to the Rodeo today and took 421 photos. Can't face the idea of editing so many, but should have a few for you on Sunday.

My Life Is Spared Yet Again

Around 4AM Saturday April 11, 2009: I was driving the band's trailer home from Kerrville, and just before hitting Boerne I hit a deer.
Steve was riding shotgun, and he didn't see them until one's head was two or 3 feet in front of the headlight either so they must have been hauling ass across IH10, which was the same impression I got.
We had terrific visibility and were on red-alert for deer the whole way home both from experience and having seen at least a dozen before the accident.

One second all was clear, then Flash Pow Pow!!!

No time to swerve or brake or even yell "Shit!"
Not that I would have swerved much, or braked--that's a sure way to end up in even worse shape, especially when towing a trailer.

I took my foot off the accelerator and coasted down from 60mph to around 40 as I considered what our condition was--alive, no funny noises, the truck and trailer hadn't jumped so we didn't run over anything, still tracking straight, no flat tires, both headlights working...except for the adrenaline dump and the shaking we seemed to be okay.

Took the next exit and pulled into a parking lot with good lighting to check the damage: Amazingly, the deer's face only took out the driver's-side turn signal.
Completely.
The entire plastic housing was wrecked and the bulbs were gone, but the headlight, grill and bumper were fine. Wow.


Unfortunately, when you hit a deer in the head it tends to spin.
The second thump we felt was the pickup's rear door getting a serious case of venison ass.
That door doesn't open anymore, and might have to be replaced.



Here's some of Bambi's butt hairs.

The truck belongs to Sylvia's father, so I spent most of today dreading having to tell (and show) him what I did to his beautiful GMC Texas Edition.
Didn't want to break the news over the phone--felt it was best to look him in the eye and say "I hit a deer on the way home last night. Your truck got fucked-up".

True to Mr. C's awesome nature, his reply was along the lines of:
"Really? I always wanted to hit a deer. You guys are okay? Shit happens. I've got great insurance--don't worry about it. Let's take a look".

I was at my lowest and he let me off the hook so smoothly it was incredible.
Then he served us some killer gorditas!

I'm going to find or make a sticker of a deer silhouette that we can put on his truck just like fighter pilots put on their planes for every enemy kill.
I spent almost my entire life without a father, until I met Mr. C--He's truly the best thing since USAF toast dipped in a vat of melted butter, and I love him dearly.

Stumbling into this family has made me the luckiest guy on earth.

Private Car Show

At a party Saturday night a few of the guys were invited down to the garage for a tour of the host's classic car collection.
Lots of chrome and paint on beautiful cars and a truck from the 40's through the 60's plus the smell of leather and oil.
Nice
I asked permission to take pictures while everyone else asked questions or talked about their own cars.
While I know more than a little about Detroit iron, I didn't mention my badass '77 Monte Carlo or the muscular and perfect '85 Olds Cutlass Supreme I used to have--fine rides to be sure but not in the same league as these restored antiques.
Mine were daily drivers that attracted admiring looks wherever I went, but I didn't have to spend huge amounts of time and money making them run and look good.

Using wireless flash to light an interior while shooting through an open window--a technique I've been waiting a long time to try.

I love this pickup truck.
The yellow car glimpsed in these first two shots is a Hudson convertible.

The gas cap was in the middle of the truck's wood bed--I liked the geometry of this view.