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Hammer Down! Gonna' stop?

 

Well at least the weld quality is better then on some of the other images.
Dan

 

"Put the Hammer Down" usually means the accelerator pedal. I guess if you "hammer" the brake hard enuf, you might hit the gas.

 

I've towed a few projects home with a piece of chain through a pipe. If the chains are wrapped around the frames on both ends pretty tightly, the pipe kept the cars from hitting each other. It actually worked pretty good, as long as someone was in the towed vehicle doing the steering. If no one was steering the towed vehicle, it pretty much just went where ever it wanted to go.

Our local dirt track was considered a long 1/2 mile track. It was pretty much a pair of just 1,000' long straights about 100 yards apart with a loop on each end to connect them. The track had decent banking. it was a ball of fun, but that is a different story that really isn't HAMB friendly.

The track restarted a "hobby class" which was basically old cars with a 4 point roll cage and all the glass removed. The car were suppose to be "stock". This was just after the end of the performance car era where a guy could buy a hot performance car for $100. We had a pretty big group of cars, but most of the guys couldn't afford a trailer.

I made 5 "tow bars" which were a couple pieces of angle iron welded together to form a "V" with the hitch ball coupler at the point of the "V". The tow bar had another angle the sat against the front bumper of the car and was held in place with a couple clam clamps that grabbed the edges of the bumper and were held tight with a bolt. They were pretty crude, but most of the guys lived less then a mile from the track, so it worked pretty well....for a while. Those 5 tow bars probably got 8- 10 cars to the track and back home every week.

After the bumper got bent up a bit, or the car got "formed into the track" those tow bars didn't work so great sometimes, but some guys made the tow bar fit just their cars. By mid season, we got word the police were going to be waiting for us after the races. Lots of home built trailers showed up at the track that week.

 

my friend lived within a mile of Seekonk Speedway in Mass. near the R.I.border and he would drive his demolition derby cars from his house and his brother close behind in a chase car. We did crazy shat back in the 70's lol

 

Thats a repro gauge. The original ones say Deth Wobbel.

Cheers,
Harv

 

Where do you all find these images - wait I don’t think I want to know

 

Eat me….. Death Mobile…..

 

In high school I went to tech school in the afternoon to go to auto body class. One afternoon I wrote “Deathmobile” on my driving restoration OT car with primer after watching Animal House. The next day I got called down the the dean’s office and was read the riot act for being a deadbeat and hooliganism, and was banned from the highschool parking lot until I got that off my car. Screw em! I parked across the street the rest of the year and intentionally left that on my car.
One of the few times in my life my mom and pop actually stood behind me.

 

Where’s the periscope?
Dan

 

I don't think you can hang your arm out the window. Is it tall enough to get your whopper and fries though that dime slot ? Lmao

 

A friend of mine had a saying when seeing a car of this sort at an event............
"Its got it all.........and it's all bad"!

 

The chinesium ones say Def Robble

 

A thin crust pizza might fit.

 

Izzat the driver's head peeping out over the roof?

 

Piano fell on the roof....

 

Top of the roll bar…..

 

"Houston we have a problem!"

 

You know that is a Hammer's car right? Whole story is on the hamb

 

A different way to activate the vent

 

That is why God created scatter shields.

 

This is a story from a buddy. It's long, but it's worth it.

The year is 1973. After high school, I worked several years at a motorcycle shop. I had been employed as a new bike set-up man and a parts man, and later on, tuner. At the time I was riding a 1972 DT2 Yamaha 250 enduro. I soon became hooked on buying ever more powerful and newer bikes and felt the need to make more money.
I soon found a job at a forklift dealership as a parts runner and parts man, for White Mobilift, in Kansas City.
One morning, the foreman asks me to take our 1964 Ford 1/2 ton pickup and go fetch an electric forklift battery. I hadn't realized that this would be the heaviest load this Ford truck could handle. It'll probably take a couple of hours, my manager said, the place is on the outskirts of town.
It is 8 a.m. when I get to the battery distributor. I back up the Ford to the loading dock. A forklift comes through the door bearing a pallet with a battery 4 feet wide, 4 feet high and 3 feet deep. It's in a orange steel case, black top, banded in a couple of places to the pallet with 1" steel banding straps. The Ford sinks nearly to it's spring dampers when the pallet is lowered in, the front end and hood now up visible through the windshield
I'm handed the packing list, told to "Take it easy, that's quite a load", by the dock foreman. I shift the Ford into first, let the clutch out slowly, and pull out of their yard onto the street.
I say to myself, "wow, steering feels like a toy car!", but I proceed down the industrial area streets, headed for 50 Highway. 50 Highway cuts right through the center of Kansas City, most of it a 4 lane divided boulevard.
As I find 50, I ease into morning traffic and head for the Mobilift dealership, through town about 20 miles away. I get the truck going pretty good, about 45 mph and stay in the right hand lane. I approach some backed up traffic and switch to the left hand lane. I'm doing pretty well, not hurrying this rig. I get about half way there, 10 miles to go. I'm driving along, coming up to a light with a left hand turn lane.

 

Suddenly, a car cuts across the front of the Ford from the right hand lane, barely missing my front end, headed for the left hand turn lane.
I slammed on the brakes just as he made it across in front of me, missing me by just a couple of yards.
The Ford hauls down pretty fast, but the battery doesn't react the same. It's enertia makes it continue down the street as if the Ford isn't involved! With a crunch, the pallet bottoms out at the cab of the truck. BANG!! The battery
breaks the small steel bands, and tips over on the pallet with a huge {{BOOM}}. The truck takes a couple of bounces from the impact. Looking back through the rear window, I see with horror the tipped over battery chugging out battery acid from several large cracks in the top!
In a panic, I've slowed the Ford considerably. Looking in the rear view mirror, traffic is coming up on the nearly stationary truck real fast. I let out the clutch rather abruptly, while in second gear.
The pallet, greased by the battery acid, slides towards the tailgate with the battery lying on it's side, shears the tailgate clear off as it strikes it, the pallet continues out the back, and the pallet, battery, and tailgate slam onto the pavement of 50 highway
I am horrified and sick at what has just happened. I bring the Ford truck to a stop, 60 feet ahead of the battery. Do I just park it here? I quickly figure out that there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about this situation. There is 2,000 lbs of broken battery burbling acid out onto 50 highway. I have a bent yellow tailgate in the street, as well as my now empty, bent pick-up truck.
I consider my predicament. I better call my boss I guess. I walk over to the tailgate and slide, drag it out of the street into the grassy median.
Traffic is backing up behind the battery as I start off at a trot to a nearby neighborhood to find a phone.

 

First house I reach, nobody answers. Second house, lady peers through the curtains of the picture window, won't open the door. Third house, nobody answers. Finally, fourth house, an older guy opens the door up as I explain I've been in an accident and need to call for help. I follow him into his kitchen, I get the boss on the phone, give him the low down. After listening to my winded explanation, he replies, "I'll send the flatbed truck out with a forklift loaded up after TJ gets back from a delivery, wait at the pick-up for him." TJ was our lanky driver of the 22 foot tiltbed delivery truck.
I walk the couple of blocks back to the scene. Traffic is now backed up behind the battery a couple of blocks, most of the cars with their right hand turnsignals on, trying to get out of the snarl.
It isn't long before a police cruiser shows up, lights flashing, driving down the grassy median divider of 50 highway.
Officer arrives, asks me just what in the Hell am I doing.
I explain the near wreck I was in from the left hand lane grabbing driver, the battery tipped over when the bands broke, I called for help, I'll do what I can here.
I go retrieve the tailgate from the median, and part carry it, part drag it back to the Ford. I see when I reach the truck, the paint in the bed is curling up from the gallons of acid in the bed. I wrestle the tailgate in the truck, and go to sit in the cab.
I assume I will be unemployed when I get this mess cleaned up and get back to the forklift dealership.

 

Soon, another police cruiser shows up, parks behind the first, and the officer get out, walks over and has a talk with the first officer. Second policeman walks back to the traffic, and starts hand directing the traffic to go around my disaster scene.
The first officer comes to the cab and says, "Boy, don't just sit there, come help get this straightened out, you're messing up my highway." I wonder what in Hell's name I'm going to do, but comply. He gets in his car and gets on the radio. All I can think of to do is slowly pace between the truck and the battery. And look worried. I mean, what else can I do?
I see the battery acid is running down the road in little rivlets, downhill across the other lane. All the traffic is rolling through this, causing little sprays of acid onto the underside of their cars. Have fun with that, I'm thinking.
Thirty minutes, an hour goes by. The cop makes small talk, where I'm from, how long I've worked there. I think he's sizing me up for the ensuing chase when I try to flee the scene. An Overland Park municpal truck shows up, a big light blue dumptruck. Couple of jumpsuited guys climb out, open their tailgate, and start loading the wheelbarrow they brought with the sand. They start at the battery, which is still slowly leaking acid, and start spreading sand on the spill. Policeman now blocks traffic in the right hand lane, so the City crew can spread more sand.
About this time a Kansas Highway patrolman shows up behind the second police car. Gets out, puts on his stiff, flat brimed dark blue HP hat, and joins the first policeman, again for a chat. He surveys the scene, comes over to me, and says, "You've made a big mess on my highway, young man. This is going to be a real problem when lunch hour arrives if you don't have this cleaned up by then." He rejoins the other officer.
A Few minutes later, the second Highway Patrol car shows up. He blocks my lane down aways by parking sideways, starts waving traffic into the right hand lane. Third police cruiser shows up, parking in the right hand shoulder, this one marked Supervisor.
The police have a meeting. Second cruiser decides to leave. I get to explain the whole shebang to the Sargent. "Hmm. UhHuh. When is your tiltbed getting here?" I tell him, "dunno". He returns to his car and works on getting ahold of my dealership.