How old's the oldest H.A.M.B. member?60+?Tell us a cool story

I just turned 70, in the early '60s before we had a drag strip in Pittsburgh PA the owner of a local dirt track (Heidelburg Racetrack) decided to build a dragstrip which became PID (Pittsburgh International Dragway). To see if there was any interest he started running drag races on his dirt oval track. The starting line was on turn no. 4 at the corner of the main strightaway with the finish on turn no.1. My job was to stand at the finish line wearing bright orange gloves and eyeball the finish line and signal with my raised arm whichever car I thought won the race. With the grandstands right in my face the race fans could be very vocal about my calls. We even ran a jet dragster one night who proceeded to blow away all of the starting line equipment when he launched. The success of these eary races led to the building of the PID strip which had a rich racing history. My daily driver (in snow this morning) is my '34 Ford Cabriolet that I built about 16 years ago and proudly wears my Piston Rider club plaque that i got in 1954.

 

I'm pushing 57 and some of my best car memories are from the mid & late '60s. This one was summer of '69, the last before we were out of high school. $$ was tight and my buddy needed a ride. He found a '59 Ford 2 door, plain jane V8 stick, a good solid car & only $100 or so. But the most god-awful crappy pea-green ya ever did see! We were doing odd jobs around the area and somewhere, somehow he came up with several half-used cans of oilbase house paint. He mixed it all together and it came out a not too bad medium-dark blue. Out comes the paint brushes & rollers and voila - pea green is gone! Could'a stubbed your toe on it up close but from 20 feet it looked pretty good. Some of the state of Michigan's finest - and a couple county mounties too - got to know that car right-well in the summer of '69, I think my buddy's "CS" file rivaled Milner's, then we joined the Air Force.

 

Well, I am so old I can not remember how old I am, but I was born in 1922!
In high school you could buy a 27 T for$7, and I drove a 28 Chevy that cost me $15, then got my Rajo T, and then bought a 32 Phaeton with a flathead Cad engine and transmission for $35, Don't remember what I did with it, then bought a 34 4door in 1941 for $40, then switched to 33 Ford coupes and convertibles.
Them were the days, my friends, them were the days.

Big difference in that the cars were easy to work on and no one complained too much about lack of insurance, etc.
Graduation night, 1940 , borrowed Mom's 36 ford, and totalled it!
Bedtime now for old man

traderjack

 

Wow...........Ive heard stories from my dad about mint 57 chevy nomad's that could be had for 400 bucks...My grandpa used to buy model T's for $2- in the early 40's...they would rip the fenders off them (and the top if it was a touring) and haul ass around town with as many guys as they could get in the car. After it quite running theyd leave it where it stopped and get another beat up model T for $2 or $3 ....this was 1940-1941 true story.

 

Story from my Grandpa -

One night back in the '40s somewhere in Texas. Was walking from a bar going back to the room shared with an old friend named "Red". We both worked on a rig, he was a floorhand and I was a derrick hand. Anyway, I'm walking down the street half sober when a long white Caddy pulls up next to me. Be damned if it wasn't Bob Wills himself! Of all things, he was looking for Red. I told him I knew where he was and he offered to give me a ride to the building. We rode around that little Texas town and shot the shit until we got to our destination. I went down to another place whilst they talked for a spell. That was my ride with the King of Texas.

 

Now there is a winner.

 

This is the best story so far here

 

I'm 62 and recall getting into a 3-way drag race down one of the major roads in the city in 1963. I was driving a '57 Chevy with a power-pac 283, but I don't recall what the other two guys were driving. About half-way thru 2nd gear a cop pulled us over and we all got out of our cars. The cop started chewing us out and the other two guys gave him some lip back - real wise-asses. Anyways, I stayed in the background and the cop wrote the two guys tickets and left. The Officer asked me if those were my buddies and I told him "No, sir" and that I had never seen them before. I was polite and admitted the heat of the moment got to me and I was dragging.

He gave me a lecture and said he had to write me up, since he wrote the other guys up and I told him that I supposed that I deserved it. He handed me the ticket and we both left. When I got home, I checked the court date and found that he wrote the appearance date for a Sunday. Since there wasn't any traffic court on a Sunday, I ignored it and 45-some years later, have never heard another word about it. I believe that since I was polite to him and admitted guilt, he wrote the wrong date on purpose to give me a break.

That was a valuable life lesson and I not only got out of that ticket and several ones after that, I found that treating other people with respect was a smart idea in any circumstance.

 

When I was in grade school in small town (approx 2000)I lived across from the chief of police.He would park squad car in driveway after 10:00. I dont think they had anyone working (after 10:00) unless an emergency. Now its 2 to 3 squad cars all the time.Pretty much same population. WTF????? My dad played in a band at a local bar. One night he had a few and the police officer said he would follow him home to make sure he made it ok. Then he offered to help him carry his guitar and amp in the house I dont think they would do that nowadays, DWI busted!!!

 

Be 64 soon. My first car was a $25.00 37 Ford flatback. The old engine did not run very well, so an old mechanic at the Ford garage went over the running engine with a long screw driver stuck in his ear and told me the engine was worn out and not worth rebuilding. The 60 horse was shot. He told me to buy a 41on the lot, that I could get for $50.00, as it had an almost new re-manufactured sleeved 48 engine. The Ford garage let me pay it out at $10.00 a week! I was so scared to owe so much money at 16! We swapped out the engines in the back yard. Scrap metal yards had piles of old Ford stuff at the going price for scrap metal. I found headers, a Fenton two deuce intake, dozens of Strombergs and three Columbia Overdrives. I was pumping gas at a truck stop on old 66 and was driving the old Ford as I worked on it. The driver glass was gone, the passenger floorboard was gone, no heater, a bucket seat out of a Chevy panel truck, a milk crate for the passenger, and straight pipes. But the engine was clean and painted with colored wires and chrome breathers. It ended up with no fan, no thermostats, and I had to stick a gopher match under the contact points of the generator cutout to keep the battery from running down. But it ran good and was a blast to drive, mechanical brakes and all. One night at shift change the boss ask me to take two of the waitresses to town and they piled in the back seat. As usual, I had to set the front wheels and do several donuts in the pea chat drive before I took off. The folks at the truck stop always liked that. The women screamed all the way to town from the noise, the engine odors, and the flames lighting up the pavement through the missing floorboard. They never rode with the hotrod kid again!
My jalopy 37 sat in my mother’s yard for over twenty-five years while I was in the service, and was nearly picked clean. I sold it to a friend and it became a slick street rod.
There was a “basic standard” among the rodders to be “cool” when I was in school. It had to have a clutch, it had to be owner worked on, it had to be vintage, and it did not have to be slick. Driving the family car was the peak of “un-cool”. Old jalopys were not childs play: twisted axels, snapped drive shafts, planned stops, facing the wind to cool, clothes pins on the fuel lines, carrying extra parts and tools, working in the yard with a drop light, dreading to drive in big city traffic, quick runs to the scrap yard for parts, constanly alert for every sound and odor coming from the engine, draining the water out on cold nights, and the constant harping about your spare parts pile behind the house.

Over the years I owned several new muscle cars, and I love my old 55 Chevy, but they never were as much fun as that first old 37 jalopy Ford.

 

This IS a good thread idea I'm 68. In 1956 I was 16 and had just discovered HRM and the little mags. I had picked up 34 Ford ex telephone co. repair truck and was channeling it. It had a long way to go with what we had to work with at the time. My buddy and I were walking home from high school and stopped at his Aunts house for a handout as usual, but for some reason she wanted us to use the side door which we never had before. As soon as we got up on the top step I looked over the back fence to the next yard and theres a cherry duece 3 window. We quickly forgot about free food and went around the block and knocked on the door not really expecting any one home that time of day. A guy answers and the car IS for sale. For "what I have in it for the body and upholstery work. $165.00. It had new dk green paint with the top, cowl, and grill shell leaded and filled. Front seat and rumble seats done in brown naugahyde, plus all the garnish moldings and bumpers rechromed. It was a B 4 banger car and the motor was still in the chassis but all torn apart. That was a deal but still a hell of a lot for a broke 16 yr old to come up with in a week. So i get the car home and start working on it and my kid brothers two buddies show up (about 6 yrs old) and say "we got one just like this in our garage" . "No you don't" "yes we do" ect ect. I lived there almost all my life . They live 3 houses down the street. Theres NOTHING in their garage. I had talked to their dad, NOT a car guy, about renting it. So we walk down open the door and inside is a dark green 32 PLYMOUTH PB 3 window rumble seat coupe. Where the hell did THAT come from? Turns out the Aunt had come to visit last weekend from the other side of the state and the tranny had gone out. The dad said she didn't want the car any more just wanted the $10.00 she spent on the tow. Fortunately I had the $10.00. I took it home and crawled underneath. In 1932 Chrysler had come out with their "floating power " feature. Basically soft rubber motor and tranny mounts that dampened drive line vibration. In the 32 version the floorshift mounted to the crossmember solid and the tranny "fl;oated " under it. Seemed like a bad idea then and it still does. Any way the tranny mounts had got so rotten that the tranny had dropped down too far for the shifter to reach the selector gate. A couple of 2X4 blocks made the car like new again. I drove the crap out of the Plymouth. But with the pressure off, I never did get the Ford finished. I sold them both when I went into the service and bought a Olds powered 32 2 door. IMO the Plmouth never had the clean lines of the Ford but the PB Plymouth with it's low roofline looked chopped. Looking back it's still hard to beive that stuff was around like that andfor that kind of money. Man that took so long to type the thread is probably at 300 replys bt now.

 

I'm only approaching 52...but a machinist We had in the shop was there from day one; company est.1929; regretfuly he passed on last year at 93, still working every day. He didn't tell a lot of old Hot Rod stories, but, how times change rapidly...in the WWII era all 60 shop employees began making bombs and tank parts...there were still some pieces left in the attic when I retired 2 yrs ago.

 

Deuce Daddy Don was reining champ at 76yrs old until TraderJack jumped in,born in 1922 would make him 87??All you guys that are posting who are 70yrs old and back,he's almost old enough to be your dad...Hats off to you TraderJack,and if Ryans out there listening I think it would be fitting to send you some free swag in recognition of your being the Elderly Statesman of the HAMB,and as for myself I'd listen with both ears wide open to any cool stories from a hot rodder that graduated high school in 1940,if it werent for you and guys like you,this hobby that all of us on the HAMB celebrate daily would not exist...These stories have all been awesome,hope to read many more

 

Wanna read a profile from a REAL hot rodder? Read TraderJacks HAMB profile!Now theres somebody whos really experenced all hot rodding had to offer back in the day....you just dont bump into these kind of guys on every streetcorner!

 

Well, thanks for the thread to respond to!! I may be in 2nd place, but I'm still a DEUCE!!!!-------------Don

 

I fell like a young pup next to Trader Jack. I'll be 73 on Sunday the 14th.Still working on my 37 Terraplane and my 37 Dodge Truck. Bought the T-plane in 85 and the truck in 82, there is a story in its self.

 

Trust me, I know that i will still be doing this for the rest of my life. My dad kicks himself everyday becasue he sold all of his cars when he sold his autobody. I refuse to kick myself.

 

Once upon a time!!
No really I think it was the summer of 1952, I was twelve, I bought a wrecked 34 Ford sedan for $15.00. The old car was rolled and really beat up and I did not tell the folks I bought it. I kept it at a body shop and junk yard ( Some jersey guys would recognize the Grbac name) we stripped of the body leaving only the running gear, motor, steering, and fuel tank. with no radiator we decided we could not run it too long at a time. We would sifon gas from cars that came into the body shop to run it. After swallowing enough gas (I think it was Moose who had to have his stomach pumped), we decided to run it on dirty paint thinner. Wow, we had fire comming out the carb and exhaust. One time around the field we hit a bump and the guys riding on the gas tank stepped on the brake rod and damn near threw us into the fan!! When we got carried away one day and ran it too long, the engine siezed up like it was welded. Never had more fun for $15.00
Bill

 

I accompanied my dad, who will be 78 this month, to Colorado Springs this past Sept. It was a 13th. Bomber Sqdrn. Reunion. He flew tail gunner in a B26 Invader. Anyway, He was stationed in Colorado Springs and had a friend who was from there. They talked about how they drove an old 35 Chevrolet Coupe up to Cripple Creek just about every weekend to go to the bars. Long story short, young GIs with money in their pockets, more women than men. You get the picture.

 

I'm not old enough to qualify, but I have to tell this story.
I went to Mattoon, Illinois to cruise on Friday and Saturday nights. 1983 and '84. A couple of the kids in town had hot Chevelles and stuff. They always talked about who had the fastest car in town. Once in a while, the legend would show up.
The guy's nickname was "Dump", he had a steel 40 Willys coupe, 'glass doors, decklid, and flopper hood, some kind of BBC, 4 speed, Olds rearend, Willys frame. He didn't drive the car much, because the Mattoon cops knew his driver's license revoked for drag racing. They didn't mess with him on the one of two BIG cruise nights.
One summer night in 1984, a few of us were parked in front of the Goodyear store at the east end of downtown Broadway. Dump shows up in his car in the passenger seat. He and his buddy that's driving had just put a tunnel ram and two fours on. They're on wind down mode, cold Budweisers in hand, been on it for a while. They decide to leave. Dump's buddy fires up the car, puts it into gear, lets out on the clutch, guns it. Throttle hangs! Across Broadway, across the block wide parking lot picking up speed. The driver tries to turn left on Charleston Ave because he's looking at the front door of a funeral home. The car turns some, and rolls up into a ball while taking out a small fountain in the front yard. The simple 4 point roll bar saves their butts. Spilt beer, a few cuts, ruined car.
I went into the Air Force before the aftermath of that event. I heard the car body was buried in a field somewhere around Mattoon because Dump didn't want anybody to fix it if couldn't do it himself. At that time, he had owned it for a lot of years.
There weren't very many people that watched it happen. Ron Warner and I were the only ones there that knew what kind of car that got ruined that night.

 

I'm a young 49, but I need to tell two stories . . . both told to me by old hotrodders (guys that some of you probably know or knew).

1) Model T Coil and Pissing on Cars: Joe Reath (Reath Automotive in Long Beach): Back when he and all his car buddies were building their hot rods, very FEW guys would paint their cars. All their money went into engine parts, so it was very typical for a guy to paint the car with hotrod red primer and then oil the primer if you wanted a bit of shine. If a guy painted his hotrod, he caught all sorts of shit.

Well, one of Joe's buddies painted his car and when they all went out to dances, clubs, etc.. -- all his "buddies" would sneak out and piss on his tires, rims, door handles . . . you get the point.

After awhile, the guy (don't remember which friend?) got tired of this crap and devised a little plan. He rigged up a Model T coil such that it it was always firing (which these coils did) and he ran the ground wire to the dirt with a steel spike to push into the dirt. The other end of the output was the body/frame. He made sure he parked where there were some puddles of water, etc.. When the guys snuck out to piss on his newly painted car, their "stream" made the connection between the ground and the coil . . . giving them a hell of a spark in exactly the spot he intended.

2) Barney Navarro - Why His First 2-Carb Manifold had the 'DogBone' Heat Riser: Barney was working for I believe Phil Weiand and was running one of his 2-carb manifolds on Barney's car. He was on a trip across the United States in some awful winter storm (very cold, snowing, etc) - and after awhile his hotrod kept going slower, slower, slower . . . less power, etc.. He couldn't figure out what the hell was going on - and could only go about 30 miles per hour. Finally he pulled over the pulled an air cleaner and found that the tops of his 97's were all iced up. There was just a little about dime-sized hole in the ice of each. This totally constricted the flow and was his problem. The manifolds did NOT have heat risers --- or enough of them to keep the carbs from freezing up.

Due to this, when he designed his first manifold, he made a 'dog bone' heat riser that moved the heat from the risers to the bases of each carb - which stopped the problem. He offered the manifold with the dogbone, or with just a little finned block-off plate. He said that all the hot rod guys would throw the dogbone away - with the mistaken belief that it was always better to NOT heat the carbs. He said the truth was that in most colder climates, they'd have been a hell of alot better off running the dogbone.

As a side note, in the last 5 or so years before he died, he decided to recast just the dogbones (quite a few guys contacted him looking for them). I purchased one from him to retrofit one of my original Navarro 2-pot manifolds - as I wanted the dogbone. The story above was what Barney told me when he sold me the dogbone. You can still buy a dogbone from H&H flatheads (at least I think so!). I don't believe the original Navarro manifold has been made in many years.

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Ba Dee, Ba Dee, Ba Dee . . . Dats all Folks . . .

 

At 84 dad doesn't do computers, so I'll tell this one for him. It was a Saturday afternoon in the spring of 1939. He was working at my great uncle's service station. A ramp sat out front just next to the gas pump. It was used to drive a car up on to make oil changes easier. Well, not much was happening on this particular Saturday. My great uncle had just left, but gave strict instructions to the guys hanging around the station that no one was to touch the Indian Chief motorcyle that had come in for servicing. No sooner had he left than Leon, one of the employees, jumped on that bike for a quick circle around the station. By the time he came around front he was totally out of control with the throttle wide open. That's when he hit the ramp. Luckily Leon fell off and suffered no worse than a few cuts and bruises. The bike didn't fare as well. It managed only a half backflip before coming down hard.

And then there's the part of the story about what happened when my uncle returned; but we'll save that for another day.

 

I,m 74 or is it 75 ? and I cant remember any stories.

 

What a great thread, I'll never get any work done this way, keep the stories coming !

 

well I,m 70 and that seems as its not that old compared to some of these other 'old guys'!! My story would be the things ive seen and been part of in hot rodding. first I was exposed to hot rods when my family moved to Los Angeles,from chicago in 1944, i was 6 yrs old. we lived in south central LA. My dad took me to the midget races at gilmore stadium, and also to the L.A. coliseum and saw the board track racing. the push trucks had the most beautiful paint jobs I,d ever seen. My buddy an I rode our bikes to the Armory for the first Hot Rod show put on by Hot Rod magazine, an seen all the bitchen hot rods and lakes racers. Went to Bell auto speed shop. then moved out to orange county to Buena Park and got my first rod ride when some JD.s gave us a ride in thier hot 34 coupe! scared the crap outta us , never had been in such a fast car [hot flathead]I was hooked from then on. I was 10.My first car was a running $100 dollar Model A cpe when i was 16. learned how to change a transmission and rear end, an tune it. spead the rear spring with a bumper jack with a piece of pipe on one end.etc. learned many valuable lessons with my A, mainly to not break it. Saw the Ala Kart when it was first shown. and had so many more hijinks that it would take too long to tell here.

 

65 and still playing with cars. In the 50's I drove a 49 Ford to school until it would not run anymore. I think I broke everything on it that could brake. Us kids were trying hard to be rebels and did all the clichés such as smoking in the bathroom, leather jackets, switch blades and greasy hair.

In the 60's I rode with a biker gang on an old panhead I built from scratch. I even left the hand shift on it because it was cool. Later I drove a '60 Buick Electra convert, a 53 ford convert with three carbs and other interesting rides. Us guys would always hang out nights at the gas stations and wait for a race or a chase. Yup a chase, we had this game where we would pick out a care with several mean looking guys and chase them until they got pissed off enough to chase us. Got corned only once on a dead end alley and got the crap beat out of us.

In the 70's I had long hair and smoked pot and hung out with local bands most of the time. I still had cars such as a '49 Packard that we all got in and hit the drive in's. Those days were kind of hazy but I remember the cars and the gals most of all.

Some things that really happened: We were driving on First Ave looking for trouble in my buds '56 Chevy six banger when a white '55 merc pulled up along side and gave us grief. We exchanged gestures and phrases for a block or so but then they swerved at us just missing. We of course returned the favor but connected. It was slam bang for blocks exchanging paint and chrome. We all ended up at the A&W later and became best of friends, go figure. Both cars were not so lucky though.

My bud Rick always went to the A&W to chat with this great looking car hop. One night she agreed to let him take her home, only problem was I was with him. We were in a '40 Ford coupe and it was a bit tight so she had to sit on my lap until he dropped me off. Well wouldn't you know it, she liked my lap and we dated for months.

We went the drive in theater to drink and cause trouble and one night forgot the speaker and pulled the window out of my '49 Ford. We later painted a nasty word on an arch enemies house and got caught. We spent all spring vacation cleaning that siding but you can still see the word today if you know what to look for.
Paul

 

Wow... my abacus just tells me you're a "Big Number"...!

Congratulations on being technologicaly savy enough to build old cars and share your stories on the computer...!

Keep Kick'en Keester Traderjack!

That's awesome... most folks over 75 act as if they're dead already... they just haven't been buried yet...!

 

i'm 55 and still think young.......i remember street racing in 1969 when i was a passenger in my buddies nova and we raced against a beat up ( but fast) dodge , we got caught by the police , luckily the cop let us go and asked why were we wasting our time and gas racing a beater like that!

 

I am 64 years of age and have been messing with cars and motorscooters sense I was 10 years old, Learned to drive when I was 14 with a hardship licence , My first job when I was 15 was delivery boy for a dry cleaners driving a 53 for sedan delivery , One morning or afternoon , in Gatesville, Tx we had a particlarly bad freeze and the window and windshield glass was frozen over with ice when I had the delivery ready to go, I scraped off bit on the windshield and a small bit on the driver door glass , My feet and hands were freezing, I drove about 3 blocks to an intersection where I had a stop sign in town , By that time the windshield had frozen over and I could still see out the drivers side window a little bit, I was too damn cold to rescrape the windshield , so as most kids do , I took a look out the drivers window, looked clear , counted to 3 and nailed it in about 2 seconds, boom!!!, and I looked out my side glass in time to see a pickup spinning by me going about 20 miles an hour, it did a 180 degree turn before it stopped , No one hurt as we all going too slow, got my ass chewed out pretty bad by the truck owner and the business onwer , I did learn to be more careful and it was the last wreck I ever had, Also one night about 1 amon the town square in Gatesville , a group of us guys were bull shiting about cars and one of the guys decided he wanted to blow up the engine on his 56 chevy sedan , he wanted his dad to get him a new engine, He fired it up and put a brick on the accelerador pedal , had the engine going wide open , we stood back and whatched the 56 run wide open for at least 5 or 10 minutes , the damn thing would not let go, finally got bored and shut it off and amazed how tough the motor was , Got a ton of stories about caddo mills and green valley raceway , atlas bucrone tires and moon discs, helped start the poor boys car club in 59 or 60 , still have the plaque, thanks for letting me ramble ,,,,Sam