A survivor that I missed once by 10 minutes came home with me Fathers Day weekend

One question, is Janeen your wife now? She seems like a keeper if I have ever seen one! Oh yeah, cool car and cool story too.

 

Thanks for all the compliments everybody!!! I'm glad to have the H.A.M.B to share the story with you as it unfolds, and quite humbled by the response it has gotten.

The Reno Rockabilly Riot went ok. I believe that since it was their first time downtown, the folks that put it on have a HUGE learning curve to streamline the parking/show portion of the event. Otherwise, I encourage you to check it out if you have the chance.

I woke at the ass crack of dawn at The Sands due to our end of the hall (quiet) room facing east and not having light blocking drapes. I took the car downtown and found there was no one there to coordinate parking. I found my own spot adjacent to a fire hydrant (only because I saw many other cars that had been left overnight blocking other hydrants) figuring it would likely be a non issue. There was enough space to move a brigade around the '35 if necessary. With everything situated, and realizing that I will have shade starting mid-day, I'm pretty happy, so I go for a walk to check things out. Upon my return I was greeted by a nice gentleman who represented the show, and told me that the cars in front of hydrants needed moved or they would be towed per the Fire Marshal.

Fair enough, I understand the need for safety, and I'm sure it's early enough to find another place to park.

"Ok, any suggestions?"

"Well, there are some empty spots down on 2nd" (Read; middle of hot-as-shit sun-all-day middle-of-nowhere) and there should be some spaces toward 6th (again, crap)

"Alright, I'll see what I can find"


On to spot #2

After watching some guy park like an ass taking up two spaces and making other cars go around him in the "Primo" spot on the corner in his billetized, shaved, candied pearl Coddington appearing "LOOK-AT-ME" machine. (I really question who he was related to or paid off to get this thing into a "Rockabilly" themed event) I end up under the cover of the walkway between the Eldorado and Silver Legacy on 4th street at the end of the row.

Now I'm not much of a "Power parker" I am usually there to have a good time and check out what's happening. However in this instance, I know that many people have read about the car here, and any of the old guys who see it love talking about it and recollecting stories of their own, so I would like to get a decent spot, and if you haven't figured it out by reading this thread, I do enjoy a good bullshit session. Where I am seems a bit out of the way, but it will be under the shade all day, so no worries.

Out comes a gentleman in Eldorado attire who stated that "This is where we load the shuttle buses" as he points to the color change on the curb from yellow to red, in which I am clearly in the red. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to move"

It's still early, so I play nice. I shake my head & smile, telling him that it's no problem, and thank him for letting me know.


On to spot #3

I end up finding a killer location on the corner of Virginia and 3rd in front of the Eldorado main entrance. This worked out pretty damn good. The doors are open pushing out cool A/C on me, there is a place to hang out in the shade of a small tree, and I'm front row. In a manner of moments I have 4 old codgers combing over the car.

One gives a quick "Is this yours?"

Yes.

"Nice car. this looks like how we used to build them. I once had...."


And the bs will now commence.... Perfect.


At this point I've been yapping for 25 minutes or so, and a girl comes up to me.

"Is this car yours"

Yes.

"The fire marshal told us that all of these cars are blocking the fire lane and they need to be moved ASAP to they will be towed" as she pointed at my car all the way down to the car and the empty spot where I first moved from.

I sigh and shake my head as I explain the series of events leading up to where I am and once again ask for a suggestion.

"Well, there are some empty spots down on 2nd and there should be some spaces toward 6th..."

Yea, "I'll take a quick walk and see what I can find"

"No problem, but it has to be moved, I'm sorry"

Hey, at least everyone has been nice so far...


On to spot #4

As I find a couple empty spots in front of Harrahs, I run into a homeless appearing guy who is missing most of his teeth with a buddy, also a bit haggard, both of them wearing bright yellow t shirts with EVENT STAFF emblazoned on the back.

"Hey man, I was told to move my car 'cause it's in a fire lane. Is it cool if you hold this spot for me and guide me in?"

"No problem"

Janeen waits behind. She is recovering from broken sesamoid bones (Google it) in her foot from tap dancing and I don't want her walking more than she has to.

I get the car, make the long slow journey navigating between pedestrians and other traffic. Special thanks to the guy who pulled sideways under the RENO sign and hopped out for what seemed like a full photo session. (Nice '50's cruiser tho, as I had ample time to look at it) I arrive at spot #4, toothless event guy guides me in, and everything is set.

By now it's time to head back to The Sands to clean up, as sound check for The Ultimate Elvis Show is at 1:00 (For those of you who didn't read the entire thread, Janeen is a singer, and she is backing up Justin Shandor this particular evening)

12:45 and headed to the Atlantis for sound check. I get a text;

"Hi this is Jenn from the Rockabilly Riot. Paul had asked that you move your car, the spot you are in is reserved. Please drive your car to the registration booth to be escorted to your new spot. Thank you."


Seriously?


I text back that I am headed to the Atlantis for sound for the Elvis show, and won't be back untill after 10 or 11

No response.

We get to the Atlantis, still no response.

Now I'm a bit nervous. I don't need the car towed to some; "Sorry we fucked up your car, but we're not liable, closed on Sunday, den of thieves who like the car so they want $10k to get it out of impound, fuck stick shit hole."

So I call Jenn. Fortunately she answers. I tell her a synopsis of the "I've moved 3 times already" and that "someone with the show is who put me there" story. She apologises, and says that there was a block or cone there that must've been moved, that the space is reserved, and that there are basically too many hands in the pie, but all she knows is that a bunch of the cars have to be moved because they are in reserved spaces. I explain that I can't get back until after 10 because of the show, and want to make sure tha car will not be towed. She says that it will not, and requests that even if I am gone late, that I will move it as soon as I can. Which I assure her that I will.

Possible crisis averted.


Sound check goes great, and Janeen and I have a moment to grab some food before pre show prep. Show starts at 8:00, and it's about 6:30 and I call a buddy and ask him to check on the car.

He knows the story so far...

I get a call back about 7:00

"Yea man, so you're gonna love this"

"Shit, what? Someone screw with the car?"

"No, it's good, but you're either gonna laugh or be pissed"

"What's up?"

"So the spot under the cover on 4th has about 15 more cars there, and the shuttle busses have just enough space to park at the edge of Sierra, the fire hydrant has two cars crammed where you were, and the corner in front of the Eldorado has 4 more cars there. Oh, and NONE of the other cars have been moved"

What can I do at this point but laugh right? I learned long ago that if I don't laugh, I'll probably expplode, and that would be messy.

"On a lighter note, the orange billet machine did end up with a bitchin T-bucket parked in front of it blocking it's view."

"Nice! Thanks man. I'll catch you later"


I can't blame the people who put on the event entirely. This was their first time downtown, thus leaving big opportunities for improvement.

Though I will be honest, I probably could've avoided assisting with sound check, missed my sweetheart singing and the camaraderie of hanging out with one of the top 5 Elvis guys in the world and his band, came back to the show, and moved my shit. But again, to be honest, I wasn't going through all that to move AGAIN.

My profound apologies to whom ever I caused the monumental greif to. Next time I will know to request a "reserved space" because they are definitely not advertised.


The show was sensational, as always, and we got back around 11 or Midnight.

Janeen snapped a couple shots for fun.




The next day we stopped at the Walgreens to grab some snacks, and I came out to find 3 guys checking out the car. After a bit of chatting, 2 of the 3 independently offered me $25k for the car.

"Thank you, but sorry, no. The story is worth as much as the car to me, and I have to have the car to adequately tell the story"


They both agreed.



Thanks again to everyone who takes the time to read my ramblings. I figure if I do ever let the car go, or I die, the next person will have an interesting record of it's life. I will try to keep this "journal" updated often, as things happen of course...

 

"Journal" ... yes ... but always worth the read. Thanks man. Cool car.

 

Tis fun to follow along on your adventures, oh by the way, your ramblings are quite entertaining too.

 

Some of you have pm'd me to see if it is available...

Yes it is, PM me for details

 

Loved your story...Uncanny, some of it: "356 Porsche Cabriolet" (I had a '52 Porsche Pre-A Cabriolet, rare split windshield; sold it when married to ignorant ex wife!) "Lowered Cal Bug" (had a few of those, always kept a VW around since I specialized in them since '56, raked all of mine)

I had a '36 5 window Coupe after high school, amidst several 'T', 'A', and '32-'34 roadsters and coupes...

Met my REAL wife in '78, she worked in my shop with me for 8 years. We moved to Central CA., bought a house in the county. She built me a shop in our yard. (I hired some guys to help me lay concrete, and I set the steel tubing poles and rafters. Wife Joey installed roof, sides, and helped me hang the 16.5' rollup door.
Wish she'd hurry up and weld the frame rails together on my Track T project...
(We actually build cars and engines together...makes life soooo nice!)

 

Fascinating story and history of the car.
Good luck with the sale

 

Bump! Great story! Henry Gregor felsen type stuff! Loved it! Any more?

 

Last Friday I decided to take the car out. After finally getting some shocks on the front end, it was time for a test drive to see if it behaved better. I called my old teacher Steve Minor to see if he was home, as I hadn’t gotten a chance to take the car by for him to see it since I first contacted him about a year ago. I called and got no answer, but since he is only about 3 miles away, I thought I’d take a risk and just stop by. The garage door was open, but knocking on the front door got no answer. I walked back to the car and noticed that the gate next to the garage was ajar, so I walked through it. Hearing voices, I followed them around the corner and seeing two people, I said hello. This gave his wife a bit of a start, so I quickly introduced myself, and Steve instantly knew who I was.


Steve Minor was the cool substitute teacher that everyone remembered from high school in the Grants Pass, Josephine County area in the 1980’s. He drove either a white convertible 356 Porsche or a brown early Bronco. When you saw either parked in the parking lot outside you hoped you’d have him, and when walked through the door to class and saw him, you knew it’d be an easy day. He is the kind of teacher that gets everyone to agree to be casual and not attract any outside attention, and he’d ‘overlook’ the lesson plan for the day. Though he did tell me that he almost got fired once because he was subbing for a history class for a week at Grants Pass High School, and had the kids watch Platoon or Full Metal Jacket to show them a “More accurate depiction of Vietnam than what the history books told.”


Either way, definitely a cool guy.


As I walked up to shake his hand and ask how he was, he introduced me to his wife Donna, and quickly proceeded to ask how my mom was, and I told him that she was doing very well, and had moved to Meridian in Idaho to be closer to my sister and her family. He remembered that she was an all-state champion cheerleader back in school, and I told him that her son Jake was an all-state high school running back and his team just won the state championships this year, and he was headed to Boise State in a few days to play for them.
During this conversation he had led me to the barn out in back and opened the door with a “You remember this one.” Showing the white Porsche I had remembered.



“I kinda over restored it” he said as I noticed the gold Super 90 badge under the decklid. I had never known it was one, though in high school, I wouldn’t have known the difference. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I noticed a 912 Targa hiding just ahead of it.


“The convertible is my Sunday driver now. I made it too nice for rainy days, but I do have a coupe project that I’m working on,” walking me toward a tin shed with a grey 356 coupe in it sitting on carpet with a small tool box off to the side.


“I’m probably overdoing this one too, but I wanted something I could drive in the rain.”


I inquired what year it is.


“A ’60, just like the convertible. I got this one for $2000 when I got the convertible many years ago. I paid $7500 for it.”


He then turned to the old Bronco nearby.


“The Hidden Valley kids always asked where the Bronco was when I drove the Porsche. It didn’t impress them as much since it was more of an agricultural school.”


This was nice way to say that the kids at Hidden Valley were a bit more country than we were At North Valley. I believe he was also nudging me with the cross county rivalry that had existed then.


“How’d you like to see your high school car?”


“Definitely!”


So we headed through the field, around the garage, and back to the front of the property.


“Wow! Look at that! Honey! You need to see this”


I inquired about who he had got the car from to reaffirm what he had told me in the phone call the year before.


“I don’t remember his name, but my sister was dating him. She’s still alive, I’ll have to call her and see if she remembers.”


A moment later, he exclaimed “Don Miller. That’s his name. I’m pretty sure. I’ll ask my sister anyway. He had a yellow ‘32 coupe with a rumble seat. I remember riding in it.”


“A 5 window or a 3 window?”


“I think it was a three window because I seems to remember it having suicide doors.”


He looked the car over running his hands over the worn paint.


“It was green when I got it I think Don had it painted, but I’m not sure.”


I mentioned that Dave Early had said Norm Nelson Painted it in ’62 because of the overspray on the seat.


“Maybe it was a reshoot, ‘cause I remember it being green. I need to see if I have any color pictures of it.”


“I painted the running boards white because that was the look back then” as he pointed to the remnants of white on the running boards.


I had wondered what that white was from.


“I got the car in 1958 when I was 14 for $300. I sold it for $375 to Steve Inda. I always seemed to make a little money on every car I had. I once got a ’49 Merc with a pull wire through the dash for a throttle for $50 and drove it for a while and sold it for $100. I also had a ’46 4 door Dodge I got for $10 that I never got on the road, sold it for $40.”


“I was working on the brakes and had the rear wheel off when I heard that the brother of the girl I was dating had died. He was riding in the back of a pickup truck full of peaches, and was throwing a peach at a road sign. He slipped, and fell out of the truck, hitting his head on the pavement killing him. I was so angry. It just didn’t make sense that a kid could die like that. I threw the tire back on and sold the car.”


Steve’s dad had a pole-piling yard in Sutherlin where there were two 90-degree turns on highway 99 and a railroad crossing in between.


“Gas was 17 or 19 cents a gallon, I can’t exactly remember, and the local kids would fill a gallon gas can, strap it to the handlebars of their bikes, ride over to the yard, pour it into the car and drive it around the yard. Many a kid learned to drive, and honed their skills in between the rows of poles in that yard”


The picture of the pole-piling yard shows a garage in the left middle edge where he said kept his car when kids used to come over and drive it.


The picture of the white garage in the lower right corner of the same picture is in front of the house where he lived.


“I kept the car in that garage when I was driving it in high school.”


“I washed it nearly every morning before school because a good-looking car was important. The girls back then seemed to know the make and model of cars”


“I think the motor in it when I got it was a Merc. It was so big in the engine compartment, and it didn’t have a fan. It did fine as long as I was moving, but it would overheat if the cruising traffic went too slow. I remember going up to Eugene, ‘cause there were a lot of girls there, we’d cruise Wilamette and turn around at the A&W. Traffic would get going slow and it would boil over, so I’d pull over, sit on the front fender, and watched people go by while it cooled off. It was ok, because I had a cool car, and I looked cool sitting on the fender. It was all about feeling cool.”


From the way he told it, it wasn’t the first or last time he had to wait for the car to cool off.


“You know, I think I still have the original key somewhere in the house”


“Really?”


“I’m sure I do, I’ll have to look for it, and you should come back by to get it, I know I’ll have found some pictures of the car too. You know, come back to the barn, I have the hood ornament I took off when I was a kid upstairs.”


He led me back to the barn, rolled back the riding lawnmower, moved the tongue of the log splitter out of the way and pulled down an attic ladder. Pointing to a shipping blanket covered item leaning up on a side wall of the space.


“There’s the top to the Porsche” quickly climbing up the stairs.


“Come on up! No one ever comes up here”


As my eyes scanned the space, I saw quite the collection of stuff.


“I’m a borderline hoarder, but at least I know where everything is.”


“Here’s the dash from my Morgan” as he held up a wood piece.


“There’s the first TV my parents had. I used to watch the test pattern waiting for a show to come on. Shows were only on in the evening back then.”


He picked up a small pile of paperwork and showed me a picture of a girl.


“Allida, Allida Guiley”


As he flipped it over I saw there was something written on the back.


“What’s the back say?”


“ Steve, Here’s a happy picture for you. To show you how happy I am that I’d had you and happy we got away with it! Love Allida.


His voice became a bit hesitant to read as he went along


“The top right reads 202 Hawthorne Ave, Medford, Ore.”


I googled it, it’s a shopping center now.



He reached to another pile and showed me a hood bird and emblem that he shaved off of a ’55 Chevy he had.



“Here it is. I took this off the car when I got it because it was broken, and replaced it with a good one.


"Is there a rearview mirror in the car?”


“No”


“Well, here’s the one I took out. Do you want it?”


“Really? Yes!”


“Take the hood ornament too.”


I was a bit nervous in taking them, as I felt like I was removing an antiquity from it’s resting place.


“Wow! This is really cool”


We headed back down the stairs and out to the car to compare ornaments. I also wanted to be sure that the rearview was correct and would fit.


It did.



He started telling stories about driving it. I should’ve had some kind of recording device, as I could only take notes so fast.


“There was a pecking order for who sat where in the car. My best buddy rode shotgun, with the next guy in between dodging the shifter, and the last two rode in the trunk because it was so big. There was a guy named Larry Pittner, we called him Putt, who would drop lit ladyfingers through a tiny hole in the trunk floor while we cruised and they’d explode behind the car.” I looked for a hole, and all I could find was about a 3/16” factory appearing hole that seems that it would do the job.


“Do you have time to go for a ride?”


“I’m retired, I have all the time in the world.”


As he climbed into the car he told his wife “You might as well head inside and get ready, cause I’m gonna be pretty excited when I get back!”


Once he sat down, he turned to me with a grin


“At my age, ‘get ready’ means we’re gonna hold hands on the couch.”


I fired it up, and pulled out the driveway and headed toward Merlin to take him to Hulst Customs. My friend Jason Hulst and his dad Paul run the place and do really nice work. Jason went to North Valley High graduating 2 years ahead of me, but seemed to have a vague recollection of Mr. Minor when I had mentioned him before.


We headed down the road and Steve kept repeating,


“This is Awesome, this is really awesome”



Unfortunately Jason wasn’t there when we arrived, but we did get to look at a 1940 Lincoln Zephyr Continental convertible that was getting reassembled as a stocker, a 1933 ford fordor hot rod that was also getting finishing touches, as well as several other great cars in various stages of completion. Unfortunately the early ‘30’s Packard with the V-10 Viper motor was out for upholstery.


Getting ready to head out the motor was hot enough that the old 6 volt system wouldn’t crank quite hard enough to fire it up.


“Looks like the it’s gonna leave you waiting to cool off one more time”


He just laughed.


We went back inside and looked at some of the artwork on the walls, all of it done by Jason. He is very good. If you have time I recommend you check out hulstcustoms.com


After about 10 minutes with the hoods opened it cooled off enough to fire, and we were headed back.


We arrived back at his house, and he wanted to show me some stuff he had.


He came back with a cigar box of pictures and some movie flyers from the Sutherlin Theater. He grinned and quietly said


“Here are a few of the girls I dated, I don’t think my wife doesn’t know I have this.”


I thumbed through the movie flyers and saw they are dated from about 1954 to 1962


Donna approached to ask him something. He quickly flipped the picture of one girl over onto another, covering his stash so she couldn’t see them.


After she walked away, he noted,


“I had a whole other box full of pictures of old girlfriends that probably had pictures of the car as well, but when I was a newlywed I was conflicted on having them around, so I put them all into the box and hid it behind the hot water heater in out first apartment. When we moved, I forgot them. I went back later and knocked on the door to look for them, but at that point they were gone.”


Looking through the pictures he took out a small envelope.


“Here is a picture of the girl I went on my first date with, and the 20 cent movie ticket stub from the movie we watched. Somewhere in here is a lock of her hair.”


“…and this is Nancy Moore, she writes books now. I once put the car in a big irrigation ditch in front her house. Her brother was a friend of mine. I called my dad to bring a rig to tow it, but dad said it was too stuck, and to call a tow truck. Somehow, the car was unhurt.”



“This is Carol Strode, she’s the illegitimate daughter of Clarke Gable, and had been adopted as a child by the Strode family. I was in Portland one summer. She rode in the car. She went to Jefferson High School in Portland.”


The back of her picture reads; Dear Steve, I am so glad that I met you last summer and that we have gotten to be such good friends. I hope to see you more often in the next few months than since summer. If you would move to Portland that would settle everything. I wish you lots of luck always in everything you do! Lots of love, Carol


After looking through pictures, we chatted for a while longer. Then he asked Donna to take a picture.


“I have this exact shot of a 165 pound kid in a football jersey that resembles me, I should get an updated version.”



Then it really hit me, the history in the car, in the lives it has passed through, and the lives that have passed through it.



I climbed in the car to go, and Steve told me to come back in a few weeks to see what more he found of the car.

I agreed.


I got in, fired it up, and backed out the driveway thinking


“That was the best 3 hours I have spent in a long time.”

 

That is flat out one of the best stories on the H.A.M.B., why, it could be a movie, kinda!
Thanks for sharing your experiences and going down memory lane with some of the previous owners.
Way too cool, KK

 

You are a great story teller. Thanks for sharing.

 

Outstanding sir.Thanks for posting.Great story.Great car.Outstanding Lady.
Good luck.Have fun.Be safe.
Leo

 

Verrry good story . . . . . Thank You

Lynn W

 

You are THE storyteller my friend,great reading,keep it up.

 

Nice car-enjoyed the story.

 

Fantastic!

 

Intense story, Congrats, have fun every day.

 

Just read the whole thread - great read. I realize we all have different thoughts about such things, but I'm compelled to ask... did you offer to let Mr. Minor drive his old car?

 

This needs to be turned into one of those "books on tape" for 3wLarry!
Great story, congrats on the car- she's a gem.

 

Thanks for all your kind comments on my story telling. I was just telling a friend that I nearly flunked out of english class more than once in high school, and if it wasn't for a program that offered half a year credit in english for a year of shop class, I wouldn't have graduated.

 

I'm saving that for the next time I stop by, I'm hoping it makes for another great story.

 

uu da man . sounds like he was absolutely right on the other buyer .

 

Just sat back and read this from start to finish over a couple of bourbons.
Great read thanks for sharing mate.

Quote "you might as well head inside and get ready"
That cracked me up.

 

Awesome update. I'd read this thread a year or so ago, but just took the time to read it again. A great story and I love seeing the car come full circle.

 

just read this entire thread over the last couple of days. great writing, and awesome story. subscribed, and look forward to updates. thanks for taking the time to tell it.

 

So, did you marry Janeen?

 

Wow! What an awesome story!! I wish I had background like that for my vehicles. Awesome '35 by the way, I would love to own one like it.

 

Thank you for the update,what a great story.

 

Larry, I just heard of your passing. It is an honor to have known that you read of my exploits. The H.A.M.B. has lost a great personality. R.I.P.

 

It's been a while since I posted, and Ryan's blog post on Local Survivors today was great timing to motivate me to do an update;

I have had no success in finding Don Miller, the guy Steve Minor said he got the coupe from in 1958, so I put a post on the Roseburg, Oregon (where the car was originally from) craigslist;

Looking for Don Miller who owned this 1935 coupe in the 1950's

If you Know Don Miller, or recognize this car, please call me.

A day later I got a call from a gentleman named Dennis Brown. He said that "If there is anyone who can find who you're looking for, it's Don Larsen, he's been a member of the Stray Angles car club here in Roseburg for longer than I've known him" and gave me his number.

I called, and left a message, and about 20 minuted later Don called me back. I gave him the history of the car, and he said he knew Nick Larbach, who has run with Don Miller since high school, both of them graduating around 1959. He remembered Don Miller driving a yellow 1933 coupe, and thought he was who I was looking for. He said he'd give Nick a call that evening and get back to me.

The next night He called me back and said that Nick told him that Don Miller had moved to Portland after school, and died a couple years back, which unfortunately meant the end of my search.

He also said that Nick said that Don never had a green '35. So he said he'd call another friend, Gary Johnson, who never left Roseburg after school, and knew the history on a lot of cars and guys from back then. We chatted a bit, and he said he'd call again the next night to let me know what he found.

The next night, Don called and said he got a hold of Gary, who said Bob or Dan Davis who lived off Harvard back in the day did. One of them was killed in the late 50's in a logging accident, and his mom sold the car then. It had a white top back then, I tried to clarify if he meant the top of the car, or the insert, but Don wasn't sure.

Gary said he'd have to see the car to know if it was the same one, and I need to bring it to the Stray Angles show in Roseburg on July 8th, and he'd take a look.

I went out to the garage after we hung up, and looked the top over, and as chipped up as the car is, there is only one very small chip on the sail panel, and my old eyes see white around part of it's edges, but I just couldn't get myself to dig at it to see if it is paint or just primer.

So unti July, I am a bit in limbo, though I do have Conrad Paxton's phone #, and at the first Roseburg show I took it to 5 years ago, his nephew said Connie recognized the car...