Eccentric Clamp

During yesterday's garage sales, I came across this ingenious clamp that works on friction, angles and leverage. Like a pipe clamp, the sliding arm adjusts to almost snug. Then a quick flip of the eccentric lever exerts the extra 3/8" of motion required to secure that which desires to be steadfast.

Pat. Feb. 8 87 - I suspect this clamp was
not patented in 1987.

Join me in celebrating Feb. 8 as Eccentric Clamp Day.

The $29 Chair One Hour Challenge

Asking $40, offered $20, settled at $29.

Trying to avoid projects, I set a one hour deadline for complete refurbishment per the Mister Jalopy 4-step Miracle Process.

Improvement is so startlingly quick, that I like to mask off a section to be dramatically revealed at project end to show the remarkable transformation.

Four Miracle Steps later! Wowee!
Well, 72 minutes. Not awful. I thought I was going to be able to extract the broken arm rest screw with a pair of Vice-Grips and a sunny attitude. Sharp-sighted Hooptyriders will note the tap handle, screw extractor, drill chuck and bit which means the errant screw was drilled and extracted. That added time. But! The 72 minutes did include making a shot of espresso! Sometimes, on a project like this, I will leave a section untouched just to remind myself of where I have come from, where I have been and where I can go in 72 minutes. Not in this case. I spent another 5 minutes 4-Step Miracle Processing this final section.

Mister Jalopy's Urban Guerrilla Movie House

Before the roof was finished, I must admit the Urban Guerrilla looked pretty ho-hum.

It seems most Hooptyrides posts start with a statement about how busy I have been as way of explanation to justify the dearth of posts on my entertaining internet presence. Add to that the insult that I upgraded, then irretrievably broke Jalopy Junktown and I am bad blogger without defense. And I have been busy - up to my ass-kettle in tea-kettles. So to speak.

To answer the inevitable question, the roof took about 6 hours with a lunch break.
The over-built, under-engineered Movie House base is TIG welded.

Oh, how I miss the drive-in movie theaters that dotted the San Fernando Valley. Sure, there are still drive-in theaters in Los Angeles if you define Los Angeles in the broadest of terms as extending from San Diego to the Antelope Valley. So, I am bringing the drive-in to Maker Faire. I will be at the Make booth on Saturday and Sunday to tell it like it is and show off my blister from too much tin snipping. Plus, I am giving the Deep Sea Suburb talk at the Main Stage.

A Schwinn Town and Country adult tricycle with a Lumenlab-style projector on the back. Inside the wooden box is a stripped 15" PC LCD monitor and replacing the meager florescent backlight is an awesome 400w lamp that is bright like welding. Add a reflector, a couple of fresnals lens and a homemade focusing triplet lens and you are ready to bring the party to the people. Easy as that? Well, not really. I made more missteps than a fox trotter with two left feet. But, I learned a ton along the way and the results will be in Make Volume 11.

Under the roof, curious peekers will find a Mac laptop with a RocketFM transmitter for radio broadcasting the movie audio to the 80's era cassette boombox on the handle bars. Oh, it works like a champ! Does the projector work without AC power? No. It is already heavy like a battleship straining those original, cracked Schwinn tires and I can't imagine how many deep cycle marine batteries would be needed for a 400W lamp. While riding, I assure you, it is plenty satisfying to listen to the awesome cassette power boombox.

The preferred acid test image of the superb Lumenlab DIY Forums. That is an
untouched, un-photoshopped 7 foot diagonal non-HDTV screen shot.
The screen is a sheet of $12 melamine from Home Depot.
Nikon D70, auto settings, no flash.

Without the help of Lumenlab and the collected history of the forums, this project would never have happened. If you can't wait for the Make article, go poke around. BUT, as with all forums filled with experts, PLEASE read the FAQs, the builder guide, the Wiki and search the forums before you start asking if you can use a laptop screen (unless you are Bunnie, you can't) or automobile headlights (you could, but shouldn't.)

Commencement of the 2007 Garage Sale Season

Federal handgun ammunition laws fall apart in the secondary market.

This is your time to start garage saling. 2007 will be cited in your memoir as the year that you discovered the rich suburban history of the United States. Or the United Wherever. It will be the year that you start collecting the noble cast-offs of the richest generation in the history of the world. Don't worry if you haven't been out hitting it the first few weeks of 2007 as the garage saling season starts now.

A particularly handsome set of streamline accessory seat belts.

Between the holidays and unusually cold Southern California weather, the garage saling has been pretty weak. Not that we weren't out doin' it. You know, living. L-I-V-I-N-G. Petting dogs, poking through junk drawers, retrieving dusty boxes from attic rafters, joshin' with locals, sharing knee-slappers and rib-ticklers, shaking the hand of shrewd 5 year olds and carting away the family history of those that have decided to unburden themselves of those pesky articles. I do not begrudge. Sometimes, in that dark hour, as I face the walls of grade A junk that I have accumulated, I think about selling every last doubloon of treasure and starting over. At some point, your freedom is impinged by the sheer quantity and the idea of starting to fill a little red toolbox from scratch is pretty tantalizing. Those of you that have never garage saled, I am jealous of the opportunity that stands before you.

This hodge podge is actually a carefully edited sample from a garage splitting at the seams.

Take a look at the above photograph. Specifically, take a moment to consider the inline toggle switch at the far lower left. And then examine the pot metal plug above the red knobs. Finally, give the octagonal porcelain fixtures a once over.

These are terrifically abundant times of great commercial access, low prices and seemingly, astonishing variety. But the selection is deceptively narrow. If you wanted to spend $500 on a purse, there are likely 2000 choices and next year you will be presented with another 2000 choices. But if you want a light socket that is the not the standard cheap-ass Leviton, where would you go?

My monocle nearly popped out when I saw these plates. Immediately, I pictured serving desert to cartoon loving friends until I saw all the cartoons had to do with wine. Cheese it shall be. The New Yorker never lets a snob down.

If I were the owner of the Pilot Electric Mfg. Co. Inc., I would be so exceedingly proud to the pull into the parking lot of the Pilot world headquarters each day. Secure in knowing that I produce such a handsome product in such a thoughtfully executed package.

Exquisite packaging is kept in a special section of Hooptyrides, Inc. as a design ideal. Our inspiration not to suck.

Retro is poodle skirts and bubble Wurlitzers. Kooky pink flamingos and boomerang ashtrays. And those are inspired designs. But to like them ironically for their camp value is not enough. It does not pay them due. I am not interested in retro; I am interested in better. And industry had some stuff figured out. Somewhere along the way companies stopped hiring staff artists that could draw and a look back reveals some goddamned good tricks. Not a black box, but black panels that extend almost to the edges. Hand laid Pilot type with an L so beautiful it makes me want to throw myself on the floor. The box lid catalog number is absolutely clear without effecting the legibility of the underlying type. They sure did a lot with two colors of ink.

And, of course, the switch itself - with that bad ass plate - will make your crummy lamp project look like a nuclear submarine or a locomotive. Oh, indeed I would be proud to build an enterprise like the Pilot Electric Mfg. Co. Inc.


While I have never found an Alva skateboard, Schwinn Stingray, Belgian Browning, Offenhauser engine or McIntosh amplifier at a garage sale, but now I can cross car club plaque (my beloved Burbank, no less) off the list. Given the quality of the artwork - especially the Lords typography, do you think this may have been refined on a school book cover made from a brown grocery bag?

Listed uses for the electrical combo lock includes 'Automotive.'
Should I build a car that requires a combo to start?

Everybody that has seen Mrs. Olsen have been immediately taken by her. And, it is not that I don't like this poster, but it seems that there is something a little sinister about her look. Not that she has fangs or anything, but it seems like she is trying to pull a maneuver of some kind. Like you would get the can home and there would be a vicious little monkey inside. Or baby's feet.

Rather than demonic charlatans trying to sell a can of cat paws, I prefer the clarity of the tide campaign. All the slogans are crisp, focused and honest. America's favorite - probably hard to argue. Cleaning you can count on - I appreciate the faith in their product. Tide's In... Dirt's Out - well, that sounds so easy a coffee can monkey could do it! Clean britches for Mr. Monkey!


Coop and I went to the Hot Rod Show on Sunday. There was a car with a set of crude ram log manifolds assembled from pipes scavenged from an Electrolux and then welded together by a blind coffee can monkey. Now, I am not here to talk bad about someones ride, but rather, when I see something like that, I think, ' Those look pretty cool! Kinda shitty... but still cool! That is something I could do! Modest skills be damned!'

Wow, right? Now I have one of these! Oh boy. Have I ever been wanting one of these. Lined with an inch and a half of plywood in a steel cabinet, the lady selling it said, "It's pretty heavy..."

Uh huh. I didn't want a lightweight explosives cabinet.

(All items purchased at garage sales on January 27, 2007)

Everything but Horsepower

My daily driver is a 1987 Mercedes Benz 300 TD station wagon so there is some surprise when people learn that I am not only a driving enthusiast but am also an accomplished street racer. Granted, sometimes my opponents don't know we are racing. They think they are in a hurry to get to work in their M5. Meanwhile, I am furiously exercising the automatic trans to keep the mighty Mercedes in the sweet 3000-4000 RPM turbo power band. On behalf of the underpowered, I feel I need to show them just what grit and determination can deliver.

When driving a Porsche, you press the gas to go fast. It doesn't matter if you blow a corner. Sheer horsepower will get you back to fast quicker than I can decipher the myriad of flickering warning lights on my Mercedes instrument cluster. The only hope for the underpowered is careful reservation of momentum. You can't brake and you certainly can't lift your foot off the gas. Performance driving of non-performance automobiles requires deep confidence and unwavering commitment. Forget accelerating out of the apex - you have to stay fierce throughout the turn. When you are thinking about pressing the brake, just don't. Instead, picture a giant sling. You are David's rock and the straightaway ahead is Goliath. Keep your momentum as you fling yourself through the turn. It will startle the competition and leave your passengers regretting that they doubted your racing skills.

Speed is relative. Set the cruise control to 45 and take a dash down Main Street in a one deputy town and then tell me that a diesel Mercedes offers no driving excitement. Or how about a hot lap around an underground parking garage? Excepting the menacing concrete columns, it offers a nearly perfect skid pad to pretend you are Brock Yates testing a pricey exotic. The sound is something like strangling parrots - a specific pitch that your co-driver will remember forever after.

Every car is good at something. The body roll and loosey-goosey suspension of the massive Hoopty Country Squire is so striking that all but the most brazen opponents will concede the line in every turn. My Mazda pickup truck was so stiff and predictable, you could dump if completely sideways and that little four cylinder would really roar as you powered out of a slide in 1st gear at 6000 RPM. A champion, that little truck.

My high school girlfriend's Chevy Chevette was so light and nimble, you really felt like you were at the Nurburgring when airborne. Talk about quieting the competition, when they see nothing but air under your car, they know you are in it for the purity of sport. And the off-road capabilities of the Chevette were legendary. Sure, it got stuck up to the floorboards in sand, but it was so light that with a bumper jack and a couple cardboard boxes, one person could free it from any challenge in minutes. If you had two people, you didn't even need to bother with the jack as one person would lift a corner as you gave the little Chevette all the gas you had. After one particularly thrilling drive, I stopped to learn that I had lost the gas cap during the trip to the corner store. Part youthful exuberance and part the liberty of driving a car that isn't yours, I was really able to impress with the lowly Chevette. Besides, there was a Motley Crue Alister Fiend bumper sticker, so at some level, I felt there was a natural expectation for theatrics. There is nothing ambiguous about the Crue.

Naturally, by way of a disclaimer, I would discourage anybody from trying such death defying antics in their own car. But don't be glum as rental cars provide ample opportunity to try all the stuff you have been wondering about - from neutral drops to emergency brake u-turns like Jimmy Rockford. There are a host of American automobile models that were clearly never destined for any non-rental car market, so disdain is natural. The Corsica does not deserve any respect and there is a natural expectation that it will be driven until it smokes from surprising places.

The Subtle Joys of Extreme Overcommitment

Future history books will refer to this exquisite jewel as the Greene Bellytank

Granted, I knew that I hadn't been posting much to Hooptyrides, but I didn't realize just how infrequent it was until my father called out of concern for my well being.

Most of the following is true. Fixed the Clayton Water Brake Dynamometer (sorta), wrote a profile of my buddy Bobby 'Bellytank' Greene for Garage Magazine, attended the inaugural drylakes showing for the aforementioned race car, built a low rent Japanese garden for Make:Craft, attended dorkbot, founded the Frogtown Gin Rummy Club, built a rocket powered camera, raided a cold war era meteorology laboratory, did my part to ransack a venerable aerospace surplus warehouse, bought a horizontal bandsaw the size of a motorcycle, built out a new retail store, repaired multiple high pressure leaks on a reverse osmosis system, wrote a letter to the Los Angeles Chief of Police, (accidentally) bought a jet boat, attended the Topanga Nordstrom closing auction, tested the Bellytank on my dynamometer, wrote an article for Make:Craft on converting Chinatown pagoda Christmas lights to battery power, visited the profoundly impressive Jay Leno garage, resolved multiple issues on 1987 Mercedes 300TD including a hair raisingly high speed stuck throttle linkage, (accidentally) purchased Coop's 1927 Tall T hot rod, wrote a couple installments of my Make magazine column, read the sobering Omnivore's Dilemma, attended Coop's wildly successful art show, had my Hobart TIG welder repaired, bought three pallets of freight damaged bleach and laundry soap, replaced the shocks on the Chevy truck, built out my new Louis Depalma-style office, refurbished a tanker desk, installed yards and yards of real cork/linseed/burlap roll linoleum, repaired countless gumball machines, met with a production company about a potential television segment, welded together a bandsaw dolly from two Made in China engine stands, repaired an Apple power adapter with safety wire and epoxy putty, attended approximately 300 garage sales and got sick twice. Though not recommended, it turns out you can power sickness through with cold medicine, adrenaline of finding an exceptional value and steel grit. Rest. Pshaw.

In topical news, I will be speaking. Public speaking, as they say in high school. Hooptyriders, join me at Machine Project/Dorkbot/Make Magazine this Saturday.

From Machine Project:

Make Magazine Issue #8 Launch Party

Please join us Saturday Dec 2nd at 5:30pm for a very special meeting of Dorkbot SoCal to launch the new issue of MAKE magazine.

Simon Penny (Director of UCI’s Arts Computation Engineering program) will speak on integrating interaction design, space design, structure design, mechanical design, electronic design and software engineering using his 3D machine-vision driven interactive digital-video project Fugitive 2 as a case study. Attention will then turn to the pragmatic design and fabrication issues involved in building a custom motion control rig for the video projector in the project. Simon is bringing in a prototype of the motion control rig as tangible example.

Mr Jalopy (Contributing Editor to MAKE and automotive mad scientist) will be giving an epic (yet fast paced) talk on “Deep Sea Suburbs: Custom Vans, Internal Combustion Engines, Backyard Anthropology and the California Dream”.

Make magazine issue #8 will be available for perusal and purchase

There is a high probability of free beer and pretzels

Event

Also, topical. On December 8th, the cool kids will be at the House Industries Show at the Reserve Gallery (420 N Fairfax.) House artwork? Real live? That I would not miss!

Mister Jalopy's Guide to Life & Death with Modest Automobiles

The first time I disassembled a carburetor was at the entrance to Yellowstone Park. With an audience of buffalo, you really have an incentive to get it back together correctly. Individuals have been embarrassing themselves in front of the noble buffalo as long as people have driven the American West. I hoped to set the record straight. An experience like that will burn 'needle and float' into your brain with more clarity than a textbook ever could. Having seen that particular needle and float only one time, I can picture those components more clearly than I can imagine my morning cereal spoon.

That is how you learn. With grease smudges on your forehead and semi-trucks whistling by, there is a hyper awareness that sears information to your brain as sure as instinct. But where do you start?

After being invited to Foo Camp, I decided I wanted to bring something cool to show off and I thought it would be a clever way to get out of hosting a session. Plus, I have a backlog of projects that reach from here to the top of Jack's Beanstalk. Sometimes I think that I should create a list of all the projects, but that invariably leads to an upset stomach and an immediate desire to take a nap.

A favorite idea was to sell books in a standard bulk gumball and sticker machine. Small books. Very small books. A specific volume that would have just enough information to get you started on a new path in life. I have a shelf at home that is dedicated to inspirational books that open a foreign world and change you in a fundamental way. I am not talking about going to Morocco. I am talking about "Getting Started Right with Turkeys." Or "Shop Work on the Farm", "5 Acres and Independence", "Aircraft Sheet Metal Construction", "Locksmithing", "Your Self-Service Store" and "Backyard Poultry Farming". These books give a peek into what might be. One day, you are Joe Average. A nobody. End of the week comes and you are tending baby chicks and picking locks. A transformation has taken place. You are a giant.

Granted, reading a book about building an Ideal Turkey Sunporch is no substitute for bringing home a gobbler. It is a just a starting point. And that's why I wrote Mister Jalopy's Pocket Guide to Life and Death with Modest Automobiles. It is just enough to get you started, to take you from "someday, maybe" to "aw, hell yeah. Let's just do it!" If you are new to old cars, you will pick up some hard earned tips that I wish I knew 12 years ago, but it will be nothing in comparison to the automobile knowledge you will absorb during the first week of old car ownership.

In addition to the Pocket Guide, the Hooptyrides Vending Center also sold brass gears,
toggle switches, tiny motors and even an Olympus lens from a microfiche machine.

Having grown up down the street from the Tony and Susan Alamo Christian Foundation, I have an appreciation for extreme views expressed in 7 point type. Get the right message and it survives without the luxuries of margins or whitespace. I figured I could write a very concise guide to fold up into a standard sticker envelope and peddle it for a dollar. I am partial to machines that operate without electricity. Also, I like machines that are coin operated. And I am very fond of bookmobiles and the whole idea of dispensing information where it is needed. Maybe a Dr. Bonner's soap label of automotive information was the future of publishing...

Well, it turns out the Foo Campers are much more interested in talking about innovation than buying innovation. The suite of vending machines grossed about ten dollars. Perhaps they would have been more interested in a version of Starting Right with Turkeys.

Never one to let disastrous sales results dampen enthusiasm, Mark Fraunfelder suggested that we make the Pocket Guide available as the first title in the Boingboing Digital Emporium of DRM-free products. So, I reformatted it to fit a standard letter size sheet of paper and the pdf is available now for the same value price of one dollar. Same content in a slightly different format.

The joys of owning a jalopy could never be experienced without sitting in the driver's seat. A palpable dramatic tension is added to everything from cross-country road trips to neighborhood picnics when you are never sure if your car is going to start. Mishaps will leave you crying tears of hysterical laughter as you recount tales of tragedy narrowly avoided. It is a very visceral existence. If you spend two hours polishing the chrome bumper on your bucket, treat yourself to an In-N-Out burger at the Lankershim Blvd branch. Or a malted at your local dive. Or a cold beer on the side of a desert highway. You will be surprised how inspiring these moments can be. It makes you believe in everything.

Boingboing post here
Boing Boing Digital Emporium here
Mister Jalopy's Pocket Guide to Living and Dying with Modest Automobiles here

Coloring Contest Entries

Now that I am spending any available free time considering designs for a completely unattainable 5 piece setting of porcelain tableware, I have had to outsource my custom van theme research and development.


Clearly the sweetest plum of owning a small business is the coloring contest - that's the money melon! Mr. Coop kindly scanned about 20 pages from a circa 1972 Ed Roth coloring book and the kids took it from there.

Passionate Individuals with Exceptional Taste and Boundless Dedication

Without question, the greatest benefit of running my entertaining internet presence has been the people that I have met. For the borderline obsessive, it comes as a great comfort to find other people that are on a similar path of great folly.

As previously mentioned, I had the coolest neighbors at Maker's Faire. Due to O'Reilly benevolence and technical snafus that restricted sheet metal class attendance, I ended up with about two dozen pairs of leather gloves at the end of the weekend. A dozen pairs of gloves seems about right, while two dozen seems slightly over the top, so I split 'em with Toast and Jillian. Seems they had need for about a zillion pairs of gloves for a project they were working on and sent me this great cover in appreciation! Thanks, guys!

Bonus: Check out this bad ass bar they designed and built with their routing robot!

Nearly 40 years of Flagship Mercedes-Benz

Think you love Mercedes Benz? Yeah, I thought I did, too. That was until Hooptyrider Matt sent a link to his fleet of S-Class Mercedes. The impressive breadth and completeness of the collection almost allows me to overlook the clear corner lights on the W126. Matt! I will send you a set of amber lights if we could please take care of that issue!

If there is one constant to Mercedes design over the last 35 years, it appears to be the desire for the headlights to endlessly sweep backwards. Another iteration or two and they should be pointing straight up toward the sky like a spotlight at a furniture store grand opening.

So, Matt is nuts, right? Yeah. Totally batshit crazy. In addition to the enviable Mercedes collection, check out his Department of Entropy spoof trucks.

Why so cool? Attention to detail.

Holy mackeral. This is a perfect example of taking a joke so far that it stops being funny, starts being insane, flirts with brilliance and then comes right back around to knee slapping hysterical. Don't believe me? Check this and that. If you are still not convinced, click here.



Following the Can-Am Erasers post, I was delighted to learn that I was not the only individual who held world class autosports events on our school desktops. Hooptyrider Andy gets extra credit points for historical accuracy and the fact that all supplies were stolen from the workplace supply cabinet. Bravo!

Anyway, if I recall correctly, we have a mixed grid. The front row is
the Pink Stamps Lotus 30/40 lined up against a Lola T70. In the second
row is a Porsche 917 and a Lotus Elise. No reason why. Third row has a
Lotus Exige that started as an Elise but just didn't work out. Last car
on the grid is a Lotus 23. Guess it's Lotus night.

Mark Miller has a scope of interests that makes me look like a piker. Though the above e-racer is still in the development phase, check out his 'drive-able' 1936 Tatra simulator. Considering the rear engine V-8, it seems like the absolute cheapest, safest way to come face to face with the terror of the car's rear end walking out in front of you on every turn.

Sir Vincent Von Boris knows the joys of a pure craft project for the sole purpose of personal entertainment. As a kid, I would look forward to rainy days with great anticipation. Construction paper, pine cones, sea shells, pipe cleaners, white paste, felt, googly eyes, macaroni, poster paint, colored pencils, pompoms, balsa wood, X-Acto knives, tissue paper, finger paint, orange yarn, burlap, blunt nose scissors, cigar boxes, easter eggs, styrofoam, poster board, stencils, rubber stamps, Elmer's glue, Bic Magic Markers and Scotch tape.

Sir Von Boris, we are mighty impressed. The use of materials is top notch - the paper clip rollbar is absolutely inspired. Never a stickler for Can-Am accuracy when it comes to having a nice time, these cars are delightful for their Death Race menacing good looks.

Gale 'Gearhead' Banks Accidently Welcomes Mister Jalopy to Invitational

Von Dutch striping on a recently exhumed original hotrod that has not seen the light of day since 1960. I suppose people have all sorts of opinions about Von Dutch's artistic merits, but the reason the fella's work makes sense to me is the striping has so much damn personality. The comically small grill is quite endearing. Looks like it was stolen off a Stewart-Warner Southwind or perhaps a wall heater out of a bathroom at The Plaza Hotel.

Please take a moment to consider the work involved to create that bumper. Then, to really feel like a lazy sod, reflect on the skill and man-hours required to build this entire Italian custom aluminum bodied Hudson. Multiply that times six, as that is how many Hudson commissioned before bankruptcy.

Hubba hubba. If you have not seen The World's Fastest Indian, please do yourself a favor and see it immediately. It was exhilarating to see this motorcycle in person.

Somehow, I suspect this motorcycle never looked this good while under the ownership of Burt Munro.

Think you have made concessions to speed before? Burt was able to sit 3/8" lower because of these rocker arm divots. I am not even particularly interested in motorcycles, but I spent half an hour looking at this amazing machine and kept finding trick shit like this. I don't know that I have seen a greater accomplisment by a single person.

This photograph can not capture the sound of this beast. 300 people's arm hairs were raised when this Bonneville screamer was driven in.

Great humorists and car designers generally do not intersect. All too often, customs and hot rods take themselves pretty seriously. Overly sinister, overly historic, overly self-aware. I was a kid in the 70's reading CarToons and these t-buckets just make sense to me. The Model T windshield, the fussy brass radiator, the Moto-meter style cap, the chrome tube axle, the button tufted leather interior and those ridiculous brass age headlight buckets. But take a closer look... That blue/gold California plate? It's a painted radiator cooler! And that unbelievable, twisted dual turbo monster engine! With no front brakes! Are those wire wheels on the front? Or CHROMED AMERICAN RACING 12 SPOKE SPINDLE MOUNTS? Sweet Jesus!

The T-Bucket was my favorite car at the Gearhead Invitational.

What can you say? The 12 cylinder Ferrari that won Lemans and Monza. Perfectly beautiful with subtle, artful features like those front brake cooling ducts that tell the secret about the monster under this elegant exterior. Absolutely breathtaking to see. But, it isn't a dual turbo T-bucket!

I'm always a sucker for a self-referential, recursive car mural.

The Bean Bandit sick-o flat four old timey dragsters.

Too weird to be French? Is that possible? Is anything weirder than French? Czech Tatra! Czech is weirder! Definitely weirder. Wonderfully so. Check out those cool artillery style wheels! And the pair of horns, as a single horn would look, well, too weird I guess. And the three panel Dymaxion style windshield. Unfortunately, I didn't get a pic of the engine compartment as it does not disappoint on the weird meter. Air cooled V-8 with more chrome geegaws than a JC Whitney catalog. The longer I looked at it, the more I was sucked in by this charmer, with discoveries like the little pump oilcan holder in the engine compartment. Or the threaded bosses on the firewall to hold spare spark plugs. It sure seems like a cool idea to bolt to the firewall a chunk of aluminum with eight threaded holes to hold a set of hotter plugs. I might do just that.

The Gearhead Invitational

When you go to a car show, the fellas are often guarded and kinda assholey. They act as if their precious speed secrets will seep out their ears if they are too friendly. Not the case at the Gearhead Invitational. Everybody, EVERYBODY, was extremely gracious and generous with their knowledge and time. It was a delight to talk to so many crazed individuals.

At the first and most obvious level, it was a supreme honor to be at such an event. It was an absolutely immaculate party where Emily Post would have seemed like a savage. Of course I knew of Gale Banks, as I watch the Banks Power diesel innovations pretty closely. I have been driving diesels for 20 years and am an unapologetic black smoke advocate. Given a chance, I will bore you to tears about diesel technology. If it were not for the copious, cheap and accessible early American oil fields, I am certain we would all be driving diesels on a variable hybrid of petro and plant oils as economics and environment demanded. For a couple years, I have been on the lookout for a first gen Camaro or a nice front engine rail to build into a soybean oil powered turbo diesel racecar. I have a set of Halibrand knock-off Indy wheels for a Trans-Am-style Camaro, festooned with 70's funny car prismatic gold-leaf livery, for my 'Deep Fried Greaseballs' racing team.

Then there was the exclusivity. This wasn't the Burbank Bob Hope Park with families out for a cheap afternoon to tell you about how they used to have a neighbor with a wagon like yours. Even I get a little assholey after hearing that for the 20th time. Unless somebody jumped the fence, you knew everybody present was at least as crazy about cars as you are.

Now, I am reasonably presentable, friendly, use please/thank you, and know where the trash can for empty beer bottles is, but this was an afternoon with everybody who ever appeared in Hot Rod or Rodder's Journal. I had dinner with the fellas who built the world's fastest flathead Ford, while I'm satisfied if I can get the Country Squire idling half decent with my $5 garage sale Holley carb.

The Hooptyrides Ford Country Squire
Photo Credit: Coop and Ruth

Finally, there was the dimension of not deserving to be there that made it really sweet. Talk about getting away with something! The Hoopty Squire right out there on the lawn with the best of the best.

In true Hooptyrides style, I distinguished myself by having the cheapest automobile at the event. The Ford Country Squire was purchased at a garage sale for $700, and I had negotiated against a potential buyer who was offering $500, a bag of weed and a free apartment carpet cleaning. It is rare that I am the fellow with MORE money in an automobile purchase negotiation.

Mostly, it was profoundly inspiring - despite being humbling when you realize that, comparatively, you really don't know anything. It really made me want to get to work on my crackpot schemes.

Thank you, Gale and Vicki Banks. Thank you very much indeed.

(Want to see more photos? Coop and Iowahawk did a better job of documentation.)