It all started with my Dad, he has been a car guy his whole life and p***ed it on to me. Maybe its genetic or maybe it was the inaugural ride home from the hospital in that baby blue 63 slab side Lincoln. By age two I could no longer resist the temptation, I threw Mom's Caddy into N and off I went, I don't remember it but they still reminded me of it to this day. What happened next I remember well, very well. I was three, it was time for my older sister to get the training wheels off of her bike, she was six. I watched Dad at work out on the lawn with his tool box and asked for mine to be taken off too but he refused. This didn't sit well with me. And what happened next you could call, a defining moment. After the Old man went up stairs he made the fatal mistake of leaving the tool box out.Oh that glorious fire red box, filled with all those wonderful little chrome doodads that did stuff, how could I resist. The coast was clear, I reached out with my chubby little mitts and grabbed that wrench, tipped my bike over and went to work. Luckily the wrench fit up and off went those degrading puny little wheels, my first modified hot rod. It wasn't the sweetest ride, silver metal flake paint(circa 1979) with black grips and awful solid tires. However, it was now a proper two wheeler, a big boy bike if you like. I threw my leg over it and I was off a natural, tearing through the neighborhood like never before. Did I get in trouble? Nah, I got a new Schwinn Mini Scrambler, Blue Metal Flake with Yellow Grips and Pads, with air filled tires,sweet. Mt first car might not be what you guys would consider a "Hot Rod" but for my generation a 1983 VW GTi was the equivalent of the T-Bucket, cheap and quick with allot of hop up options. The first day I got it I took a cheerleader out. I lowered the hell out of it, fabricated the parts I couldn't afford to buy out of the car mags. I painted it a wonderful *****y pearl white,My neighbors hated it and if that ain't hot-rodding I don't know what is. So what the hell am I doing here? Well a few years ago the day after I bought my 77 Porsche 911, I went to the Greenwood car show with the old man. And there it was, a 31 Ford Chopped and dropped all the down, s****in' turtles off the road. It was in Orange primer with a big freaking V-8, carbs every whare pipes stickin straight out, a louvered stainless roof, white walls. I was mesmerized, What's that thing like to drive? How the **** would you drive a thing like that, it can't be safe, its dirty, I want it. I had just realized a childhood dream in buying that Teutonic Hand Grenade and all I could think about was that rasty,ratty filthy thing. So for the past few years I've been reading up,going to car shows and just talking to some old hot-rodders in the neighborhood. Getting to know the cars the history and the people ***ociated with them. I'm helping my dad restore his 1951 Lincoln "baby" and 1969 BSA Rocket Three and if anyone wants to buy his 54 Capri 4dr I guess I'm helping him with that too. So I'll stop blabbering now, how yall doin' my names Brad.
thanks for the Welcome guys. Frank, does the mesquite I use in my BBQ come from your home town? Ratrod Girl, your a hottie and your boyfriend is very talented. I'm actually looking to get some pinstripe art work done. For a Tat, I want a mix of a mural of my Pit Bull, Angus but I want it to look abstract but be identifiable as him at the same time, done in a traditional Von Dutch pinstripe style.
The Jalopy Journal
