Hot Rods Was your hot rod well recieved by your parents/family?

Kinda like Topolino kid, my first car was a 6 cyl, a 67 Mustang, but mine was an automatic. It was a turd that wouldn't get out of it's own way. My old man couldn't understand why I wanted to trade it 6 months later on another 67 Mustang that had a 289 in it. To him, cars and trucks were just transportation. He despised loud exhaust, about killed me when I put duals ,air shocks, Torq Thrusts and wide 60 series tires on that second 67. Said I was wasting my money. I've wasted a lot on cars since then. Most were never finished, something else came along or something came up and I had to sell them. He never saw me finish one. Mom, on the other hand, has gotten to see a few of them finished, and has always seemed to be impressed that I did them myself. She loves my 47 Lincoln, hope I get it finished so she can ride in it one of these days.

 

My folks could never grasp why I loved cars, no one in the family was that fanatical about them. Dad took me to the drags and car shows to appease me but really wasn't that into it like me. Later I wasn't a big drinker, gambler or smoker like all my friends; so I had to waste my money somewhere so they accepted my obsession and saw that I was having a good time and could see that I could take a piece of junk and turn it into something. They appreciated them for all the work that I put into them but didn't encourage me. Not to say that I didn't enjoy the occasional drink. I ended up with motorcycles when I settled down for a while (Cheap commuter, big road bikes) however I came back to cars. Sadly they didn't hang around long enough to see the last couple of cars however I'm sure they'd still appreciate them.

 

My Dad kicked me out of the house when I drove a 40 tudor home after selling the 51 tudor he bought me with my money when I hit 16. Of course after listening to Mom for a couple of weeks he allowed me back. 22 years later when introducing my future [second] wife the story came up and he said that it was still a sore point with him. He died at 94 and although he would ask about what car I was working on, he never once stepped into my shop to see one.

 

My Dad is a farmer/cowboy. He wasn't into cars but I learned a strong mechanical aptitude from him and my grandpa. Any time they needed anything around the farm they fixed/built it. Growing up on the farm, I learned how to drive everything from pickups, tractors, combines and our old IH 3 ton grain truck with a 2 speed rear end that you had to double clutch because it had non-syncro gears. Mom and Dad always supported what ever my brother and I were into. They even let my project take up their single car garage while their vehicles sat outside even in the cold Alberta winters.

Both my brother and I are obsessed with cars. My brother just finished his car he has had since high school, a beautiful 1974 Dodge Dart.

 

My dad wasn't into cars but always supported me. When I got my first car('55 Chevy 2 dr post with a 300 hp 327 and 4 speed) all he said was you get caught racing you're in big trouble.

 

My classic car addiction was inherited from my dad, an old school rodder from way back who was driving everything from Chevrolet to Chrysler. Which is why when I got my '56 f-100 he was a bit surprised,however he knew how much I loved it and decided to build the thing for me. Now all these years later he and I still think we made the right decision.


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Both my parents where happy I had an interest.
Dad liked cars, but didn't love em.
Wish he was still here to see what I've done.
My Mom likes the Hudson, but after I took her for a ride, she likes it to look at only.
Can't understand why she didn't like the no side Windows, banging, squeaking, and uncomfortable, cramped interior.

 

I always had 110% approval of my car, hotrod and oval track racing passions by my family. My Dad, although not a gearhead, helped me check out and bring home my first car (a '49 Plymouth fastback) in 1964 and Mom taught me clutch control in it in our driveway (she had learned to drive in a brand new '34 Ford woodie in order to become the owner's chauffeur). This made me the star pupil of my four member driving school class. She also let me put the car in her name which, back then, meant half off the State Farm insurance premiums (a whopping 35 dollars (instead of the normal 70) for six months coverage). Birthdays and Xmas meant a new and larger toolbox plus more tools to add to my growing tool collection plus repair manuals to add to my automotive technical knowledge. When I got into racing and later jumped behind the wheel, Dad and my brother were both full time pit crew members. Dad regularly solicited technical information and some "under-the-table" jobs (commonly known in our area as "rabbits"!) from the metal fabricator and mechanical tradesmen he worked with. Mom and my two sisters were always in the grandstands to cheer me on. After my parents passed away and the estate was settled, I used some of my inheritance to buy a new 60 gallon compressor and a MIG welder, knowing full well that they would have heartily approved. And on a small wood shelf in my shop sit two small urns; Mom and Dad watching me still enjoying the hobby they always so steadfastly supported. Regards, Dave.

 

I'll be 34 in December(Jesus time flies). I really didn't have a say, 3rd gen gear head. I grew up at the drag strip pit crewing for my grandfather. Last year for my birth day he gave me the title to his off topic 1969 Chevelle drag car. He made me cry like a baby. All through this past September he was out in the garage helping me install a hotter small block and a Jerico. The first pass I made with the new set up he was standing on the starting line. After I went through the traps he turned around looked at my mom with tiers in his eyes and said, "I taught that boy well!" Two weeks ago he went in for a 5 way bypass out of nowhere. He is doing very well, and will be back to him old self soon.
This is me in said Chevelle around 1985

 

Nope.

 

Hello,

When we started to modify the Model A and then the 51 Olds with Lakes Side Pipes and cut outs, it was all fun and games for my parents. Two boys out in the backyard doing stuff on the cars. My dad’s best friend had a gas station in Los Angeles and we were the recipients of a lot of “car stuff.” So, when the cut outs were opened, the noise was there, my mom was cool with that. Even when we sold that car and did the same thing to the 58 Impala with a bigger motor, the sound was so much louder, but my mom was still ok with that. (as long as she was able to drive that 58 Impala once a week to go shopping.) When the trophies from winning at Lions started coming home, she was thrilled. A trophy for a non contact sport event so her two kids would not get injured, she was happy.

As the years rolled on and we started the 40 Willys project, she was still ok. The boys are together in the back yard garage working on an old car. My dad was always ok as he went to the drags with us a couple of times. He liked the idea that his sons were friendly enough to work on a project and not fight. He was able to get his sports fantasy enjoyment from watching me in little league through varsity sports. My brother was the book worm and musician. I was the athlete, but both of us were car-o-holics.

Our parents financed the remodeling of the separate backyard family play room with a garage door and tear down of the mid yard fence. We needed the fence down so we could get our Willys rolled back into that new garage door and concrete floor workspace.

When we finished the motor and fired it up for the first time back there in the garage, my mom came running out to see what it was. The sound was very loud and healthy. We drove it around the neighborhood and afterwards, carefully drove it back into the newly formed garage workspace. After several trips to Lions to see how everything worked, we began the tear down to go slightly bigger for more horsepower. That is when our 671 SBC build started. The first fire-up of a 671 SBC motor was louder than before. My mom wanted to know if that would make the car unsafe. When told that it would not, she was satisfied. We were off again to the C/Gas races at Lions. The Willys worked well for many weekends and elimination runs, so, the family was happy.

After the clutch blow up and resulting fire in the Willys, I had the job of going home that night to tell my parents that my brother was in a car accident at Lions. They were both shocked, but were anxious to see my brother at the hospital. When we saw him on the table all covered up with moist gauze, we did not think that was him. We had to ask the nurse where my brother was in that ICU, she pointed out the person laying right in front of us. He was unrecognizable. The fire does awful things to the human body and this was 30% in 3rd degree burns.

My mom went beserk at the sight of my brother laying there on the table. My dad had to take her outside immediately. From that point on, nothing could make my mom “not suspicious” of anything we were doing (mechanically) in that back yard garage. After 1.5 years of recovery, my brother had started surfing again for therapy and things were getting back to normal. But, when he rolled up with a Greeves 250cc desert racing motorcycle, my mom instantly went on the offensive with a barrage of questions and fears. My brother told her that we were going to just ride around in the local dirt fields for exercise/activity/therapy and that we were not going to “race.”

So, the final thing was that we got two 250cc Greeves motorcycles and took off for the Mojave Desert and El Mirage area for those long distance 90-100 mile Hare and Hound motorcycle races. So started the next generation of motor vehicle activity. For the next ongoing years, my brother went from this desert motorcycle to 1000cc full shield street bikes and I went on to my 40 delivery and surfing.

Jnaki
Parents can be very supportive and worried at the same time…Ours were just fabulous for two teenage mechanically-oriented boys.

 

My dad wasn't into hot rods although we did have a different car every couple of years as I was growing up. They bought me my first car as part of a house deal ($100). The '57 pickup I still own today was my second vehicle. I worked the deal for $50 but title was lost so the guy had to apply for it. He eventually called back unbeknownst to me and that Christmas I got the title thanks mostly to my mom. She always said "everyone needs a hobby".

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My dad owned a carburetor and electrical shop but didn't think much of it until I went to work for him when I was in high school and all my friends came around for carb rebuilds. My Mother was different she loved it.

 

My dad was ok with it till I passed him on the road one day. Then there was the time I took him for a ride and did a big burnout and ripped through the gears.

 

When I lived back in N.J. Every time I would bring a car home to hop it up my dad would say after coming out and looking at it. He would say.Bruce. If you bought a car WITHOUT rust you wouldn't be happy. LOL. Thanks for the memroies dad. Bruce.

 

Great stories, I really like these kind of threads.

My folks never let me buy a car, my dad thought cars were a waste of $, he is a very traditional old fashioned Franco-American yankee. (He wasn't happy about art college either), My 1st year of college I bought my first vehicle, a 2 stroke street bike, I kept it in the alley behind the dorms. My folks were mad, they didn't speak to me for three months. When I finally started buying old cars (one after the other), my dad would always say "what do you want that old clunker for?!" Sometimes it was "shitbox", but I thought that wouldn't be a good handle on HAMB. (I do love that old coot)

 

Man,talk about holding a grudge,and he took it to the grave.

At least my dad finally admitted he was wrong to disapprove, HRP

 

My Dad is 81 and wouldn't walk across the street to look at a old car.Never has "got" my hot rod passion.
My Mom is 79 and wants a ride in any older car.Take her for a ride in a convertible and she's all smiles.
That being said, when I had 30 '55 Chevies sitting at the farm(at age 17...baling/field work money) the only thing Dad ever said was that I better be making money off those junkers but didn't make me get rid of them.

 

Grew up in family that fixed cars so was never a issue. Thanks dad.

 

Was born and raised into it. From trucking to race cars to motorcycles to hot rods and everything in between. From granddad to dad to me and my brother to our sons and now grandsons. Gotta love FAMILY TRADITION.

 

No. My parents felt I should volunteer my time to community affairs. Maybe join the Shriners or Lions Club. They felt, like others have posted here, I was wasting time and money to a piece of transportation. That all changed when one day when my Dad came into the house swearing up a storm that his car wouldn't start and he would have to pay a hefty bill to have it towed to the repair shop. I said, "Can I take a look?" So I lifted the hood and had him start the car. A stream of fuel came shooting out of the engine compartment. I told him it was the fuel pump and I could repair it. He looked at me with glossy eyes and said, "You can do that?" Bought a new fuel pump and installed it. The expression on his face when the car started right up was priceless. After that he took a whole different attitude towards my interest in cars.

 

My obsession with cars began in 1957 when I was 14 and laying in the hospital with a very serious case of pneumonia and my dad brought me a Nov issue of R&C which featured 32 Fords, I was hooked. First car was a 53 Chevy Hrdtp which I thought was cool. My first old car was a 39 deluxe coupe in 1970. I'd built several 32 Ford hot rods and my dad was never very receptive of them. Then he came home from coffee one morning and said a local man had brought in a 1979 issue of Hot Rod that featured my chopped 32 5 window in the center fold. That changed his attitude and he took a different view of my cars after that. Shortly before he died in 1988 I reminded him of that first little pages book and told him to date that book has cost me about 250K. We laughed. I still have the book.

 

I can relate to that with the exception of my dad passed away a year later and my mom bought me my first Henry Gregor Felsen book. HRP

 

Whew, good question! Although my father's initial reaction was related to my racecar it would have been the same if it were a hotrod or custom. My dad is the furthest from a gearhead, he's a university professor, although he grew up a fan of racing, never got his hands dirty. When I started racing, he thought it was phase I was going through and it would pass and I would go to college and get a real job. It wasn't until he saw me race in one of my own cars that he started to understand the obsession. He is now one of my biggest supporters and has a completely different view on trades, my daughter just graduated the welding program and my dad flew her and her boyfriend back from out west for graduation as she received the award of excellence, but I digress. When I started building my sedan, I worked on it on the weekends, at 10 am every Saturday dad showed up with coffees and we spent an hour or so chatting and I would bring him up to speed on the progress, he would shake his head as this was just over his head. When I finished it I went over and took him and then my mom for a rip, they thought it was cool as hell although I scared the crap out of my mom by not warning her first dropping the hammer taking off from a stop sign. My wife and kids love it, it is the ride of choice.

 

My parents always supported my hot rod cars. They did not like all of them from my teen years, but they love my model A drag coupe to death. Mom still thinks it is to loud, but hey, she is just being MOM. I am really glad she loves the coupe and tells her friends about it. If it was not for her, and all she has done for me, I might not even have this old hot rod. Thanks Mom.

 

The rose colored '36 was my wife's all time first love next is her white 32 roadster. Says she'll never part with it. The blue 28 sedan is acceptable to her and my son. I love the red '47....she hates it.

 

I was 12 years old & bought the car with my own money ~ the back story is I wasn't upfront and honest with my dad and as the old adage expression goes I thought I could get away with asking for forgiveness rather than ask for permission and face being told a emphatic "NO"

Fortunately at 12 years old I wasn't shown the door but living in the South and being in the Bible Belt corporal punishment was a widely excepted means of getting a kids attention.

I ate standing up for a couple of days,I did learn a lesson...don't lie to my dad. HRP

 

My dad had the most incredible collection of Popular Mechanix, Popular Science and other magazines in the attic back to 1949. This is what I learned how to read on. As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.

 

Considering my earliest memories (circa 1972) were of riding around in my Dad’s flame and lace painted ’61 Vette as well as going with him to buy a ’33 Tudor, me dragging home old cars was very much tolerated, if not expected. I’m 100% sure my youngest son will be doing the same.

My in-laws on the other hand didn’t understand it at first. A couple of years after my wife & I got married (1989) they gave us a 1984 Chevy Cavalier. After driving it a few years it started to have some CV joint problems. Instead of fixing it I did what every red blooded hot rodder would do…..I sold it and used the money to buy a ’65 Chevelle Convert. Needless to say my Mother in law was a little pissed about me buying an “old car”. I still have the Chevelle and am pretty sure it’s worth way more than that Cavalier cost new.

 

My Dad was a died in the wool Chevy 6 cyl guy. My Mom was a British war bride who couldn't get used to driving on the "wrong side of the road". Dad had no use for V-8's of any kind, but he liked to hear those 6 bangers hum. That all changed when my older brother bought a '57 chevy with a wild 301/4speed and he let Dad drive it once. He was hooked...I was 16 at the time, and he traded his '61 Bel-Air 6cyl 3 on the tree for a new '63 Impala with a 300 hp 327/4 speed. He never had another 6.

I was building a chopped 1935 Chev Std sedan with a 375 hp 396 when he became sick, (cancer) and I tried like hell to finish it so he could at least have a ride in it. Time ran out..I haven't worked on it since. Every time I look at that car, I think of what he got me started on.......Yeah, I'd say he approved