It’s one of those weird parts that’s worth about ten grand… but only to one guy on the entire planet. Hell, if that guy doesn’t show up soon, I may just turn the damned thing into a hose reel.
@Ryan, it's pretty short notice, but you could send it to @Bandit Billy, then he could turn it into a trophy for @Lloyd's paint & gl*** "Lloydfest V". I mean, you only have one and it's worthless without the other three. Maybe you could write it off on your taxes as advertising? Just a suggestion.
Trade the Barroni wheel for a bottle of DOUBLE Eagle Rare Bourbon. If you don’t know the value….. look it up.
Only move I would have made, I already did......Bought the neighbors house......and still kept my old house and shop!!!
It's a lapel pin... made from scratch... and obviously done by some company that makes these... It's pretty damned nice.
That is a great piece of work indeed! I know that you have a ton of other priorities right now, but that is something that should be given some serious consideration for future merchandise to keep the Atomic Industries moving smoothly! Just a thought to ponder, I know I would sure purchase several ! Thanks from Dennis.
Save for a couple of sets of wheels, every single hot rod part I own fits in these 12 med crates: I can not tell you how amazing that feels...
May all 9 arrive in the same order and condition. When the herd is thinned, each remaining bit has been carefully selected for it's value. It hurts a lot more when those go MIA. I've got things I haven't seen in a decade. To look at, judge and finally choose makes it very fresh and real.
You’re going to be a pro at this. When @Moriarity gets ready to move you’ll be able to help keep everything organized, although I think you’ll need more and larger crates. Dan
The signs are down. Finally. My skull feels like it lost a bar fight with a cement mixer. Somebody has been driving heavy machinery through my frontal lobe for the better part of a month, and I suspect they left the engine running. But the ******* signs are down, and that's one less thing standing between me and the next chapter. The loft is empty now. That one caught me off guard. I wandered through the place this morning like some washed-up detective investigating the scene of his own disappearance. Every echo had an at***ude. Every bare wall seemed to be asking, "You really doing this?" Turns out empty rooms can be louder than crowded ones. And the '38... Gone. Sold. There was a brief moment where I considered throwing myself across the front bumper and daring the universe to drag me away with it. Seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. But she's headed to somebody who gets it... somebody that'll drive her, care for her, and keep the old girl alive. That's the only thing keeping this whole operation from dissolving into a profanity laced riot. The driveway is down to two cars now. Exactly as it should be. One for civilized pavement. One for mountain roads that twist themselves into insanity and dare you to keep up. Everything else was ballast. Anchors. Beautiful anchors, maybe... but anchors all the same. I'm tired in a way that borders on spiritual. The kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones after months of contracts, signatures, moving boxes, phone calls, insurance agents, bankers, appraisers, and every other professional vampire that feeds on a man's will to live. I've been surviving on caffeine, spite, and whatever s****s of sanity I could pry loose from the wreckage. But something has changed. For the first time in a long while, I can see daylight. Not the fake kind either. Not the distant glow of another disaster waiting around the corner. Real daylight. Honest-to-God possibility. Colorado. Brace yourself. I'm coming west with less baggage, better machines, and just enough bad judgment left to make the whole thing interesting.
good for you... I have way too much stuff to move. I will get carried out of here feet first... so, Ryan do you change your avatar now that the 38 is history?
There comes a point of clarity, when you have gleaned through the inventory of possessions, and you know what to keep and what to part with! Bravo on your focused choices!
For a strange reference to this clarity, “A path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you . . . Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself alone, one question . . . Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn't it is of no use.” ― Carlos Castaneda Ryan seems well read. He is a warrior.
Honestly I hate moving as well, but I appreciate Ryan’s words about adventure and pushing one’s self, at this moment I don’t know where I would go so here I stay, good luck to you and your family on your new adventure @Ryan
Glad it went well for you. That’s a great feeling when you’re seeing the end of this part of it . I could learn something (a lot) from you, but it’s too late now. I finished up unloading the trailer today, and had to go to the dealer to get my Mopar self installed trailer brake controller programmed to the truck. More expense. Now I can finally go get my cars.
Liberated this window from an abandoned speed shop in Wichita, Kansas, sometime in the late ’90s... risking life, limb, and probably a tet**** shot... because the decals were in insanely good condition. Some are waterslides, some are stickers, and somehow they all survived.
Your move is an epic journey! Having also moved 1/2 way across Canada at retirement, I can relate. It's exhausting! Hoping to read about the next chapter of your '38...hoping it remains under the HAMB umbrella of knowledge and caretakers. Though perhaps that might be too close to home for you @Ryan (kind of like selling a car in your hometown and watching the new young owner beat the tar out of the car before it gets tangled up in an "incident" of some sort).
The Jalopy Journal
