Flat Out Press

Peter Sukalac: Photo Journalist

2021-07-03T14:00:00.007-07:00

Peter “Pete” Sukalac was a professional photographer who made a career of photographing machines: hot rods, custom cars, race cars, boats, go karts. He appreciated style and craftsmanship. His photos appeared in the pages and on the covers of the slick magazines of the day: Hot Rod Magazine, Rod & Custom, Boating, and Auto Mechanics. He eventually founded, financed and contributed to his own publication, Northwest Rods.

There was such an abundance of material during the 1950s and 1960s, and Pete sought out the best, the cream of the crop. In doing so, he put Northwest builders and machines on display, and they measured up to the best from California, the Mecca of hot rodding and racing.

“If Sukalac had not documented cars and people in the Northwest, it might seem as if nothing had happened in this area.”

Excerpt from Peter Sukalac: Photo Journalist

Portland has always bred a lot of genius thinking. Carry that all the way back a step before 1940, during the 1930s where Beaverton Gateway Mall now stands was an airport. It functioned up until the 1960s, until they built the mall. That was the hotbed for the development of home-built aircraft in the entire United States. Wisconsin is now, with the EAA. But at that time, there were more aircraft out here than you can imagine. So Oregon has always had some unusual minds. Engineering, engines, mechanics and so on. It’s a state where there’s been a lot of mavericks.
I truly started running around with Bob when I became sales manager for what was then the Northwest Light Car Company. Owned by J. Kendall Hockensmith, sounds great, but he was just a Kansas farm boy. It was in Portland, across from the stadium on 18^th, and we had Jags, Austins, MGs, Crosleys, Simcas, you name it. Bob Hegge hung around mostly because I could buy him a meal. He was virtually starving, trying to freelance. Then one day he met Tom Story and did a feature on his car. He must have had four magazine covers and I don’t know how many features he did on it. Got him really going, plus it got him in trouble because he sold the same story at the same time to four different national magazines. He had Mechanix Illustrated, Popular Science, Road and Track, Motor Trend.

Peter Sukalac: Photo Journalist collects interviews, essays and a showcase of Sukalac's photos into a fascinating snapshot of one photographer's career. Highlights include

Photographer for Hot Rod, Car Craft, Rod and Custom, Street Rod and more!
Publisher of Northwest Rods
Previously unpublished photos from the 50s & 60s
Bios & anecdotes
1950s Nostalgia

132 pages, 103 b/w & color photos, $24.95 + $5 shipping (in the US).

Order from Flat Out Press,

or order from Amazon.

The First Drags

2021-04-27T08:33:00.000-07:00

The ’32 flathead with the
McCullogh blower in Bob’s coupe.

This is from Al Drake's book Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap, available from Flat Out Press.

The first legal drag races in the Portland, Oregon area were held on the last Sunday in May, 1952. I was there.

Everything was new and wonderful. My father and I had driven my A-V8 roadster 120 miles south, to Eugene, the previous summer to watch the drag races. The clubs in the Northwest Timing Association (NWTA) had been holding drag races for a little over a year. In fact, there was not even the words “drag races” or they weren’t being used; in a newspaper article they were called “sprint contests”. Of course the term had been used in California where, as Wally Parks wrote, a guy would pull into a drive-in, find a competitor, and challenge him to “drag it out”. He also told me that he had planned to have quarter-mile acceleration races at Muroc, but WW II intervened. So the first legal drag race was in 1949 at the blimp base at Santa Ana.

In July, 1951 I joined a car club, the road Angels; the next month it joined forces with another club, the Ramblers, to form the Columbia Timing Association (CTA), whose purpose was to promote a drag strip closer to Portland. By May, 1952 it had acquired permission to use the Scappoose airport on certain Sundays during the summer. This was exciting news! I was truly car crazy. I thought about hot rods all the time and fantasized about building a variety of them. It determined who my friends would be, what I would spend the little money I had on and it interfered with my school work. Hot rods mattered!

On that Sunday in May, 1952, my A-V8 was apart. My father was sick and I had skipped many days of school to work in his gas station in Oswego. I was driving a dull gray 1936 Buick sedan; I put a buck’s worth of gas in the tank and headed toward Scappoose, 30 miles distant. I drove, and fantasized about building a four carb intake for the Buick, and a header system; those changes would make it go. Or removing the entire body and running it as a chassis, such as Dick Kraft’s “Thing” which I’d seen in magazines.

I got to Scappoose and found the airport. There were only a few cars in sight. I knew the gate man and he let me in free. I parked in the spectator area and walked across the air strip to the pits, where one car was rapping its pipes. By noon there were perhaps 30 cars in the pits, and a short row of spectators’ cars on the other side of the track. Norm Cahill, one of the organizers, told me years later that the lawyer they met with to fill out the incorporation papers scoffed at the notion that anyone would pay a quarter to watch an old Ford go the quarter mile. And now, Norm said, look what drag racing has become.

I talked with several Road Angels and checked out their cars. Jim Beauvais had a ’40 Ford coupe with a newly-rebuilt 276 CID flathead. Danny Hanna had a primered ’36 roadster with a hopped-up flathead; he drove it hard, not worrying about breaking an axle so far from home. Thom Charters had a nearly-new Chev convertible, with lots of custom body work but a stock engine. Norm Cahill had his primered ’40 Merc convertible with a hopped-up and fully chromed flathead, and a set of wild duals using Rayjax mufflers.

There were other cars, street roadsters and chair cars. Most cars went between 80 and 90 mph, so that an early roadster and a new Olds 88 were turning the same speeds; no one got near the magic 100 mph mark. But it was exciting to see various cars peel out, wind up, hit second gear, the rear dropping and the nose up, heading toward the clocks. This was what guys had been doing on 82nd Ave., the long road between Oswego and Oregon City, and on the unfinished Banfield Freeway. The big difference was if you were street racing you could get a hefty fine or even lose your license; on the airstrip it was legal. And that was a big difference.

Another Road Angel, Bob Simonis, had a ’32 Ford 3-window in the pits and a bunch of club members were huddled around the engine. The coupe had been stripped and channeled; it still had the ’32 V-8 mill, a 21 stud flathead, apparently stock except for the McCullough supercharger, which was really impressive. The engine would start, run, then backfire and flutter to a stop. Club members offered their opinions. One thought it was that old ignition, another thought there was a vacuum line flaw, another suggested new spark plugs. Finally the consensus was that it was starved for gas. Bob was trying to figure out what to do so he could at least get back to Portland. I mentioned that my ’36 Buick had a bigger carb, a Stromberg EE, and we could take that off and bolt it on because it had the same 3-bolt pattern. Bob looked doubtful, and then another club member offered to tow the coupe back to Portland at the end of a rope, and Bob accepted.

Much later I thought what if I had switched carbs and stripped a fitting or something. I was out in the country, miles from home, alone, and I had no money. I was glad Bob hadn’t taken me up on my offer. But I did what I could; I had my camera and I took a photo of the engine.

Excerpted from Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap, available from Flat Out Press.

A Quick History of Hot Rodding Milestones

2021-01-21T08:35:00.004-08:00

Overview of Speed cycles of 1951 show. Photo by Bob Hegge

In my books and in conversation I have tried to straighten out the timeline of rodding events, especially in the Pacific Northwest. And yet, people make errors on dates and events such as saying that they were at the first Portland Roadster Show in 1954 or 1962, obviously confusing the PRS with some other show.

While it would require a good deal of space to cite every event, I want to list the major events, again primarily in the Northwest.

1920s-1930s: Hot rodding began in California and accelerated before WWII. See my definitive book Flat Out (1930 – 1950)
1945: Post WWII hot rodding thrived in the Northwest and across the US. See my book Hot Rodder! From Lakes to Street.
1945 – 54: Oregon track roadster racing becomes popular. These years are covered in Northwest Oldtimers.
1948: The first Hot Rod Exposition Show held in Los Angeles. Probably the first commercial hot rod show held anywhere.
1949: First legal drag races held at Santa Ana, California blimp base. First legal drag races (called “sprint contests”) in Oregon are at the Eugene Mahlon-Sweet airport.
1950: First Grand National Roadster Show in Oakland, California.
1951: Portland “Speed Cycles” show held in March in the Armory.
1951: May, National Hot Rod Association (NHRA) formed by Wally Parks.
1951: September, first 1-mile timed runs at Madras, Oregon.
Rodding was booming. See Street Was Fun in ’51.
1952: March, “Speed-O-Rama” show held in the Portland Auditorium.
1952: March, 2 weeks later, the big Motor Show was held in the Portland Expo Center. New cars, rods, etc.
1952: May, the first Portland area drag races are held at the Scappoose airport under the newly-formed Columbia Timing Association (CTA).
1953 – 55: Portland “Rods and Customs” show at the Armory.
1954: Formation of the Multnomah Hot Rod Council which included 28 Portland area hot rod clubs. See my definitive book, Jacket & Plaque: Portland Rod & Custom Clubs of the 'Fifties.
1955: February, 2^nd is an important meeting in the old Portland courthouse with Terry Schrunk, mayor of Portland and 44 area hot rod clubs.
1956: November, first Portland Roadster Show, held in the Armory.
1954 – 58: The golden age of hot rodding. The height of rods, customs, clubs, car shows, drags, speed shops, etc. See Portland Pictorial: The 1950s – focusing on 1950s rods & customs.
Circa 1960s: car clubs became less popular. Big decline in custom cars and street rods. More interest in Corvettes, muscle cars, go-karts, motorcycles and boats. See my two books on the history of the Pontiac GTO: The Big ‘Little GTO’ Book (out of print) and Herding Goats: An oral history of the Pontiac GTO.

Of course there is some overlap. For example, HotRodder! From Lakes to Street covers decades, and includes customs, track roadsters and dry lakes. Northwest Oldtimers covers circle track racing, old hot rodders, and some who were active in the 1950s and 1960s.

My most recent book Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap covers 40 years of hot rod essays including rods, customs, circle track racers, the Madras runs, and of course car shows such as “Speed Cycles” and the “Speed-O-Rama.”

Bill Cahill

2020-12-03T11:01:00.001-08:00

Bill Cahill & a Morgan-style 3-wheel car he built in 1990

Sad to hear that my old buddy Bill Cahill passed away this week at 95. Cahill was president of the Road Angels club when I joined in July 1951. At 26, he was the oldest member & a good leader for a bunch of guys who needed guidance.

I mention Cahill quite a bit in Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap and he bought a copy a month ago. One article in particular, "Bill Cahill and the Scoopen Skirt," highlights his penchant for generating lots of enterprising ideas.

I talked to him last week and he was just as sharp as ever. He sounded like a 60 year old (young, in other words!)

When he was in his eighties he drove a Russian Ural motorcycle (with sidecar) the full length of Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica.

He was a character and I'll miss talking with him.

Here's an excerpt from "Bill Cahill and the Scoopen Skirt." It talks about his idea for marketing a longer fender skirt for cars around 1954.

His method (for marketing the skirts) was simple: he wrote to advertisers in the custom car magazines who he thought would be interested. Only one replied: Bonzer Industries. Bill recently recalled: “If you look in the back of some of those old magazines you’ll see ads for Bonzer. It was a big deal place that did a lot of work with Continental kits.” After an exchange of letters, Bill got an airplane ticket from Bonzer and an invitation to show them the skirt. “I thought, my god, my fortune’s made!”
Because Bill was working two jobs he had to fly to Los Angeles on a Saturday. “I wrapped the skirt in butcher paper and lugged it on the plane — it was almost four feet long!” The plane landed and Bill took a cab to the offices of Bonzer Industries. “It was Saturday and the place was closed, so I sat there in the waiting room. I saw a guy on the phone, a silk suit wheeler-dealer type, who made me wait while he talked with several people on the phone. Finally he called me into his office and said let’s see what you’ve got, so I showed him the skirt. Oh boy, he was really excited about it. He said, we’re going to do some real business with this.

The Brotherhood of Speed

2020-09-09T12:50:00.008-07:00

The 60 year history of the Slo Pok club of Vancouver, WA. By Al Drake and Don Pennington, this is perhaps the only hot rod club that such a book could be written about. While other clubs have come and gone, the Slo Pok club has been in continuous existence from 1951 to date.

The club has been involved with street rodding, drag racing, car shows, etc. Most of the 50-plus members own two or three interesting cars, and are always building more.

In the 1950s and 1960s the club required members to compete at area drag strips. Several have competed at Bonneville salt flats. They have been meeting every Friday evening at an event called "The Alley," which actually began in an alley.

This is a BIG, and notable, book -- 426 pages!

Paperback, perfect-bound. 100s of photographs, sketches, designs, artwork. A well-researched book that captures a piece of automotive history. $35.00 + shipping.

~~Order from Flat Out Press,~~

Out of print!

Introduction to Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

2020-08-19T13:15:00.004-07:00

This is the introduction to Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap. The book recaptures 40+ years of essays by Albert Drake that appeared in various automotive magazines. It includes many new and previously unpublished photographs and new material.

Introduction: Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

I have devoted a large chunk of my life writing columns for automotive magazines. I first wrote a monthly column for Rod Action (later Street Rod Action) for 16 years. During those years I also wrote monthly columns for Rodder's Digest and Street Rodding Illustrated. When those magazines folded I began writing a monthly column for Goodguys Gazette, and that has been going on for 20 years. That means I've been writing the columns for 36 years! That's a lot of columns! I like to think that I've made it into an art form.

When I started writing the columns I had no intention of continuing them for so long a time. In 1982, to get through a brutal Michigan winter, I wrote a book titled Street Was Fun in ‘51, the first book on historical hot rodding. It was a look back at the good old bad days when I was an active hot rodder. In the course of writing the book it occurred to me that I could take some small part of the larger picture--the nature of dual pipes, or echo cans versus pencil tip tail pipe extensions, or that I might focus on a certain car, or club, or event that I remembered--isolate it and develop it. The first column I wrote was, I believe, about wheel coverings. Then I wrote two more. I had a piece of fiction in Rod Action, the only fiction the magazine ever published, so I wrote to the editor, Brian Brennan, and asked if he'd be interested in seeing those columns. I still have his reply, where he circled a few words of my letter in red ink and wrote "Great Idea!" I was on my way. I called the series "Fifties Flashback," because I wanted to focus on that decade.

I have to say that I felt a great deal of satisfaction in seeing my work in a popular magazine, usually with a photograph or two, sometimes with a touch of color. When I walked into a 7-11 with a friend I'd go to the magazine stand and pull out the current issue of Rod Action; there on the glossy pages was my work under my by-line. I had been published in numerous respected literary magazines, but those had a limited circulation and were primarily read by academics. Usually those magazines paid little or nothing. In Rod Action my work reached a mass market and I got paid. Most of all, I was writing about a subject that I loved.

The monthly column wasn't the only thing I wrote. I completed and published a major book on the Pontiac GTO, The Big ‘Little GTO’ Book, and compiled and published a book of oral histories about the GTO, Herding Goats. In 1982 I published a novel, Beyond the Pavement, a book I worked on for 20 years! It was chosen by the Oregon Cultural Heritage Commission as one of 100 significant Oregon books. And in 1983 I published a fiction collection titled I Remember the Day James Dean Died. Later I published two books that complement each other, and were the result of years of research and travel: Flat Out, a history of California dry lakes speed trials, 1930-1950, and Hot Rodder! From Lakes to Street, the first comprehensive history of hot rodding from the 1920s to the 1980s. Along the way I also published short fiction, poetry, criticism and reviews. Of course all this writing was really a sideline, as my main work was teaching full time, at a major university where I was a full professor. Although writing about cars was not a literary field, I could justify my work because evaluations had shown that students wanted to make a living at writing, and non-fiction was the genre where that was most possible.

My last columns for Rod Action appeared in the mid-1990s when the magazine folded up. I was owed $6,000; I went to a lawyer, hoping to get at least some of that money, but he dissuaded me, saying that even if I got a judgement I'd find it difficult, probably impossible, to collect. Later I went to a major rodding event put on by the Goodguys organization; Gary Meadors was head of the company, and it was a big deal, staging hot rod events all over the nation. It met Jon Gobetti, a guy I'd corresponded with when he had been editor of Rod Action. We hit it off, and a few days later he gave me a call and suggested that I write a monthly column for the Goodguys Gazette, which he edited. I thought it over, and said okay. By then I was retired, but I had a good deal of energy for writing and travel. Jon wanted me to continue with the title "Fifties Flashback," but I felt that I had pretty much mined the ore from that decade; I decided to call the series "Flashing Back," which allowed me to examine things that happened before and after the 1950s.

For me, the column never gets old. I can be driving down the road, or weeding in the garden, or washing my car and I'll get an idea that can be developed in the column's 800 word limit. I'm sometimes surprised that I haven't run out of ideas. Every month I wait with anticipation to read the newest installment of what I've written. The Gazette is a handsome publication that has constantly gotten better over the years. It's over-size, substantial, colorful, loaded with interesting and useful articles and profiles of notable people and high-buck hot rods and muscle cars. I'm honored to publish in the Gazette, and readers seem to like my work.

But I have to say that such approval is not one hundred per cent. Some people simply don't like cars, or those who write about them. When I was a tenured faculty at Michigan State University I was so proud of my columns that sometimes I'd Xerox a few copies and give them to my colleagues. Usually the person said nothing. Sometimes he'd imply that he disapproved of the subject matter, as if writing about hot cars was trivial. A more fitting subject would be the language of Chaucer, or lace-making in the 18th century, or the gender politics of modern fiction. Hot rods were certainly not suitable. One colleague summed up my writing by saying, "Oh, I ran the Model A around the pasture." The dean hated cars. My last department head, Dr. Paananen, didn't drive, and didn't even have a driver's license, which says a lot about his thoughts on cars. When I published the first GTO book I received a lot of publicity and was interviewed by both local and state newspapers; it was front-page stuff, because the Pontiac had been built in Michigan. Some of my colleagues didn't like -- were jealous of? -- the publicity. The department head, Dr. Baskett, asked to see a copy of the book. He returned it after a couple days, saying, "I used to own a Pontiac LeMans." No indication what he thought of the quality of the writing or the extensive research that had gone into the book. It could, in fact, be compared to a doctoral thesis.

Fortunately, my work has met with the approval of car guys. I have also worked with about ten editors of the Goodguys Gazette who have approved of my work. During the past 20 years a number of other columnists for the Gazette have come and gone, while I have remained. Such longevity indicates that my column has had staying power in a tough magazine world. I don't get much feedback but occasionally I hear comments by readers who say nice things about a particular column or who say that my column is the first thing they read when an issue arrives. Such comments please me immensely, because the nature of writing is that one does it in solitude, and an author always wonders what others think. A reader named Harold sent me a note regarding a particular column, and I can quote it in full: "Al: Re: Synesthesia -- God can you write!" I'd like to think that comment applies to all my writing.

Please visit the Flat Out Press catalog page to order Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap or other books by Albert Drake.

Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

2020-08-19T13:04:00.010-07:00

AUTHENTIC: adjective. 1. trustworthy, reliable, 2. of undisputed origin: genuine. Webster's Dictionary

Drake remembers with clarity and detail the first legal drag races, early car shows in California and Oregon, speed trials at Bonneville and Madras, and the ingenuity of the men and women of the time who invented ways to modify the emerging rods and customs in ways to make life interesting.

This selection of essays celebrates the people who made hot rodding an American culture. Rediscover the fun of racing, hanging out, flirting and driving from the voice of someone who experienced the 1950s and has a passion for telling the story of old metal. His stories are authentic.

Albert Drake has been a practicing hot rodder since 1951, when he built a '29 A-V8 Ford roadster. Over 400 of his articles have appeared in a variety of magazines including Street Rodder, Street Rod Action, Rodder's Digest, Popular Cars, Hot Rod Mechanix, Street Rodding Illustrated and many more!

Read the introduction to the book here or read an excerpt from the chapter Remembering Roger Huntington.

509 pages, 268 b/w photos, 8 x 10 x 1.2 inches, paperback (September, 2020)

Stone Press; ISBN: 978-0936892504. Signed copy...$29.00 Order from Flat Out Press,

or order from Amazon.

Remembering Roger Huntington

2020-06-09T16:18:00.002-07:00

Roger Huntington

In 1980 I had a contract to write The Big ‘Little GTO’ Book and although teaching more classes than usual, I spent a great deal of time doing research on the project. Wanted to talk with people who were involved with the Pontiac GTO. Roger Huntington’s name was on the short list because he had road tested the GTO for various magazines and had worked with Jim Wangers, the master promoter, in promoting the GTO.

I’m not certain when I realized that Huntington lived in Lansing, Michigan, but I must have known that for several years before I tried to contact him. I find it strange that I didn’t call him or run into him at a car event, since I worked at Michigan State University at the time, but I was terribly busy with my teaching and academic activities, plus my family, and although I remained interested in cars, that interest took a back seat to other things.

I found Huntington’s house, a tall two-story older house with a full front porch high above ground level. I later realized that his was the house in which he had grown up and had lived in all his life. I climbed the steps, knocked on the door, and then turned the knob and let myself in. It took a minute before I realized why Huntington had not opened the door himself. He sat at a large table in the dining room and before him was an old Remington typewriter, the kind where the keys have a four-inch throw. It wasn’t until I crossed the front room and approached him that I realized that he was sitting in a wheelchair. He greeted me but kept his hands at his sides. I was nervous and more than slightly confused. I had been reading his work for over 30 years and there had never been a hint of his handicap. He went to the Indy 500 every year, roaming the pits and talking with the drivers and mechanics; he had road tested every kind of muscle car, slamming shifts as that neck-popping acceleration sent a heavy car through the quarter mile at over 100 mph. And yet the person I saw before me seemed frail, the skin on his balding head nearly translucent, and as he rubbed the stubble of gray-white hair over his ear with one hand I saw that the fingers were turned inward like a claw. How, I wondered, did he type?

Perhaps my confusion showed, because for the first half hour he was guarded and distant. Trying to ingratiate myself, I mentioned how much I had enjoyed his work over the years and that I still had a copy of the Ford V-8 speed manual that I had bought 30 years earlier. He did not seem impressed or at any rate he did not discuss it further. No doubt he had talked that book out of his system; it was old work and he had gone beyond that flathead stuff. That was what I inferred. A writer, Huntington, wanted to get down to business. He wondered whether I had a contract and who would publish the book. Had I ever seen an HOV engine? Who else had I spoken to about the GTO? Had I talked with Jim Wangers or DeLorean? I said that I talked with George DeLorean, not John, who was so busy with his failing car business and illegal drug deals that I was reluctant to bother him.

I realized that Huntington was testing me, trying to learn what qualified me to write a book about the Pontiac GTO, which was of course, a reasonable question. Perhaps I gave the correct answers or perhaps he was warming to the subject because he began to speak more freely and even gave a hint of a smile when I mentioned something that Wangers had told me. I don’t remember whether I asked if he minded if I use the tape recorder or if I simply turned it on and nudged it closer to him across the table that separated us. I pulled out my list and asked the first question on it hoping to get through all the questions before he dismissed me.

Eventually the GTO book got published and it was a success; it was in print for 18 years and sold 70,000 copies, fantastic figures for an automotive book. I called and spoke with Huntington two or three times, just writers chatting.

Then I got the idea that I wanted to interview him. Would he agree, I wondered. I had talked with numerous car guys on tape but I had never actually interviewed anyone. I guess I wanted to interview Huntington because he was such a public name but most of his readers had no idea that he was working from a wheelchair. Huntington seemed to feel it was time to reveal his handicap too. He spoke freely, revealing that he had been injured in a diving accident when he was 15 years old and had suffered a spinal injury that crippled him for life. He noted that in the 1940s there was no help for handicapped people, and he was schooled at home. On his own he studied engineering and technical subjects.

By 1944, when he was 18, he began writing airplane articles and had some success. But by 1948 the bottom fell out of that market and he began writing automotive articles for Speed Age. As new rod and custom magazines appeared he found new markets, and by 1952 he was earning enough to support himself. As more hot rods appeared in Michigan, Huntington began road testing them – on public highways. He became a member of the Pan Draggers of Lansing. Roy Peterson remembers that the club would put Huntington and his wheelchair in the back of a big touring car and they’d cruise Michigan State College ogling women!

A question I had for Huntington went back to an article he’d written for Rod & Custom in 1952, where he claimed that the top speed in the quarter mile would be 166 mph – at that time cars were going 140 mph. He admitted that he had been wrong! But he pointed out that “we knew nothing of rubber science in those days.” The interview was published right away in Street Rodder and was reprinted in my book, Hot Rodder!. Huntington was happy with the interview.
Huntington died a few years later, on August 24, 1989; he was 63 years old.

The full essay of "Remembering Roger Huntington" was originally published the column Flashing Back in Goodguys Gazette, 2014. An expanded version is available in Albert Drake's latest book "Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap," September, 2020.

Exploring (Excerpt from "One Summer")

2016-06-18T22:09:00.002-07:00

A photo from the Oregonian of the front of the second Lents Public School, 1910 - 1950.

The following is excerpted from the novel One Summer by Albert Drake. Drawing from personal experience, as well as historical events of Portland, Drake weaves the story of a teen in the summer of 1948 that is simultaneously nostalgic and honest. In the chapter "Exploring," the boys visit an abandoned school.

They stood within the cool shadow of the alcove at the rear of the school; on one side was the grassless playground, where huge dusty-brown grasshoppers clacked with urgency in the hot sun, and on the other side the black maw of the open door.
After circling the empty school building, testing every door, they had found this one open. “C’mon,” Horace said again, peering up the darkened stairway as if it were the abandoned fort in Beau Geste.

Chris looked around the serrated cement column and listened— the empty streets, the dusty playground, grasshoppers—and then he turned and entered the school.
The stairwell was dark and they waited until the familiar objects materialized: the oak bannister, the narrow tongue-and-groove panelling, the foot-worn steps. The school had been in use for over fifty years, and soon it would be demolished.
:::
The slightest noise echoed against the wooden walls, and Chris was sure he could hear the echo of his pounding heart. The halls smelled of sawdust and linseed oil; how many times had he seen Johnny Johnson (“Yonny Yonson”), the janitor, spread against the oak boards to clean up a kid’s vomit? They stood in the darkness of the main hall, dark at two on a brilliant summer day, and darker than anyone could imagine on a rainy winter day.
Inside, the school was both scary and comfortable. He remembered how after one had arrived at the school one was held in the warm classrooms and protected against wind and rain. Many days he had felt the school was cozy; the poor old cafeteria always spouted forth the delicious odor of hot, homemade tomato soup; the poor old auditorium with its folding wooden chairs brought them together for songs and Christmas plays and sometimes a flickering movie showing Sinbad or Gulliver.

They wandered downstairs and into the gym, whose cement floor had the chill of winter. How many teeth had been chipped or broken on that cement? he wondered, probing with his tongue his own partially missing front tooth. They cautiously pushed open the door to the boys’ john, with its strange labyrinth of tall water reservoirs and pipes. Here Bobby Meersham had fallen while jumping from pipe to pipe and had fractured his skull; perhaps, Chris thought, that accident was what had made him a little nutty.

The inspiration for this story is second Lents School in Portland, Oregon, pictured below.

As others have written...
"The first Lents School at 92nd and Harold in Portland - a wooden structure built in 1902 after a previous school at another location had burned. Note the rural character of its surroundings. It only served for eight years, as in 1910 is was replaced by a new, larger brick and stone structure, also at 92nd an Harold. The newer building lasted until 1950, when it in turn was replaced by the current school at 97th and Steele."

You can purchase copies of One Summer here.

Sandy Boulevard, 1949

2015-07-28T22:38:00.001-07:00

Believe it or not, The Smithsonian National Museum of American History has a small bit of Portland's own Sandy Boulevard on display.

Called "Hot Rods and Hangouts -- Portland 1949," the exhibit shows a slice of cruising life. Hot rods and motorcycles squeeze between a city bus and other traffic. In the background we see the Tik-Tok Drive-in, the old Hollywood Fred Meyer, and the Wallace Buick dealership. Even the 7-Up bottling plant makes an appearance.

That's right. In Washington, DC, "America's Attic" has deemed Portland an iconic hot-rod city.

Myles Theberge's modified 32 Ford gets a special mention, as well as John Athan's '39 Ford roadster.

Flat Out Press also appreciates the quality of Sandy Boulevard. Here's how Al Drake describes cruising Sandy and around Portland in 'Fifties Flashback: A Nostalgia Trip!

"...Most Saturday nights were balmy, at least in the tricky circuitry of memory, and after we'd finished I started the engine, turned on the lights and waited for the carhop. Then I pulled out, slowly, being cool, hoping the clutch wouldn't chatter, rapping the pipes as we headed down the road. Many nights we made the rounds of other drive-ins. On 82nd I could hit Merhar's, where many of the cycle guys hung out, then cruise through Rutherford's Triple XXX and back through Flanagan's again, just in case someone hadn't seen me. On Sandy there was Jim Dandy's, a real hot-rod hangout, another Rutherford's Triple XXX, then Yaw's, a place where the rich kids from Grant hung out, then on up to the Tik-Tok, a favorite gathering place for rodders since the 'Thirties. That might be enough or one night, my date and I might have other things to do, but if we felt like driving and if I had enough gas we'd hit Bell's Drive-In at the east end of the Ross Island Bridge, or Waddle's, or a couple drive-ins back in the west hills. Portland was a good-size city, but a few runs through the drive-ins and you felt like you knew, or at least had seen, everybody who was car crazy."

Dad's 1935 Packard

2015-03-03T20:27:00.003-08:00

Here's a photo of me and my dad on a trip from Oregon to North Dakota. My mother is probably taking the picture. I guess we're in Montana here.

The car is a what I believe is a 1935 Packard. Both sets of doors are suicide doors. It's a flatback model so there's no trunk. As a result, we had to pack all our travel stuff in the back seat.

Earlier Packards were the standard of the world. Their motto was "Ask the man who owns one." The early ones had a lot chrome and stainless -- in 1932 or 1933 they were just loaded.

This a plain 6-cylinder, not so different from a Plymouth or a Studebaker. In the depression they had to make a cheaper car to keep customers, and it worked. They continued making cars, and the marque survived until 1958 when it merged with Studebaker. The results were some pretty unattractive cars.

I think my dad liked larger cars, which is probably why he bought this one.

This photo is in my book "Overtures to Motion," essays about the vehicles before I had a car, learning about cars, and finally getting one.

Old Stuff

2014-12-15T11:37:00.002-08:00

The 1952 Speed-O-Rama was the second hot rod show in Portland. It was put on by the newly-formed Columbia Timing Association (CTA), consisting of members from the Road Angels and the Ramblers. As a member of the Road Angels since July, 1951, it was something I was interested in. Although I was still in high school, somehow I managed to spend four days at the Portland Auditorium hanging around the show.

It was a big enough event that two notable cars came up from California: Earl Evan's Belly Tanker and Fred Carillo's Modified Roadster. Both cars had set records at the third Bonneville meet a couple months earlier. I picked up this poster, which had been propped against the card tire, when they were shutting down.

It wasn't a big show, only about 25 cars, but a big event at the time. The whole event felt brand new -- it was brand new. The concept of a car show, whether someone would pay money to see a car, was a new idea, since the first car show in California was only in 1948.

Now it's all old stuff, but I still like it.

The Happy Hot Rodder - 29 Ford

2014-11-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

Here's a happy hot-rodder showing off his 29 Ford on a 32 frame. The car is a little unusual for the year, probably 1939. It has dual carbs that are set wide apart, AutoPulse electric fuel pump on the firewall -- both modern, and wire wheels -- which is an older touch.

If you look in the background you can see the B&S garage, named for Baldwin & Sommerfelt. They ran it, but the building was owned by a guy named Ike. Later, in the 70's I met with Julian Doty who worked on cars in LA and we walked down the street from his place. To my surprise, I saw the B&S garage was still in operation, although with a different name.

By the way, Doty was the nephew of George DuVall, who invented the DuVall windshield - a boat type windshield for a car, and the DuVall hubcap - the first after-market hubcap that I knew of. The first one had an S shape that emphasized the movement of the wheels.

In any case, this guy in the photo looks happy to be driving a cool hotrod on a sunny day. Who could want more than that?

This photo and more are in the book Flat Out.

The Big "Little Gto" Book

2014-11-12T22:55:00.002-08:00

Gasoline Alley

2013-09-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

This old Gasoline Alley comic from 1944 is intriguing. I wonder if there was any good old stuff in Uncle Avery's garage? He's got a plan for everything. Those 34 x 3 1/2 inch tires haven't ever come back in style, tho' (click on the picture to see it larger).

Riding Bike - page 78

2013-07-25T23:23:00.000-07:00

When putting together a book it's hard to decide what goes in, and what doesn't fit. In the section "Dealers and Shops" of Riding Bike there's a photo of an interesting looking pickup owned by a Portland motorcycle shop called "American-British Cycle." Here's part of the story behind that truck that didn't fit in the book.

"This was a pickup truck made from a car. This car was built years before Ford built the Ranchero and Chevrolet brought out the el Camino. Jack Warner and Fuzzy Ball had a shop called American British Motorcycles and they originally wanted a truck that was useful to haul motorcycles. "

"Rudy Rehbein was a body man from Estacada. They wanted him to make a flatbed with a piece of plywood behind the driver’s area. He said 'No.' If he was going to do it he was going to make it nicer.
He used the Cadillac sheet metal and blended in the back of a '51 Chev pickup cab and then they had Cadillac rear fenders on there. I don’t remember if it had a tailgate but it would carry three motorcycles."

"The car was so well done it won the Custom car class in the 1952 New Car Dealers Expo show and it was featured in Rod & Custom magazine."

"The American British Motorcycles shop lasted about a year and then the pickup was sold down to California to a motorcycle club."

"I (Drake) wrote an article about it for Old Cars Weekly, and I heard from a friend that Cliff Majhor, the Sandy Bandit, said I had everything wrong. So I called him up to set the record straight. I had said that there were three bullet holes in the back of the cab when the police shot at it. He corrected me and said there were four."

Portland Mayor Terry Shrunk on Hot Rodding - 1955

2013-06-03T12:25:00.003-07:00

An excerpt from a letter from Portland Mayor Terry Shrunk to the Portland Hot Rod Clubs of 1955. The text reads:

"A special meeting of the representatives of all interested Hot Rod Clubs in the metropolitan area will be held February 1, 1955, at 8 PM in the Classroom of the Uniform Division, Multnomah County Sheriff's Office, on the 8th Floor of the Multnomah County Court House. (Those attending meeting please enter on 5th Street Side of the Court House and take Jail Elevator to 8th Floor). Registration (no costs) to start at 7:30 P.M. Your Club is invited to have two or three representatives present at that meeting.

The general purpose of this meeting is threefold:
1. To discuss the development of a drag strip or strips in this general area and to receive a progress report on the proposed Vanport strip.

2. To discuss proposed traffic safety plans in which the various Hot Rod Clubs can compete with each other on competitive basis for a suitable trophy and suitable safety awards.

3. To discuss the problem of public relations programs of the various Hot Rod Clubs in this general area, and to devise means of bringing to the public's attention the fact that most Hot Rod Clubs are made up of responsible young men and women of this community who have built up a good driving record in this community, and further that members of these clubs have developed at considerable expense and a lot of hard work on their part, some fine automobiles and have in fact contributed materially to the automotive industry in the field of safety and mechanical advancement.

It is my personal feeling that there is not enough attention given to our various Hot Rod Clubs and that the general public far too often misunderstands the activities of these organizations and in fact maligns their driving record on our streets and highways. This problem cannot be clarified by the various clubs."

Excerpted from Jacket & Plaque: Portland Rod & Custom Clubs of the 'Fifties

2nd Annual Portland Roadster Show - October 1957

2013-03-15T09:04:00.000-07:00

Here's the flier from the 2nd annual Portland Roadster Show, October 1957. Admission is only ninety cents. Sponsored by the Multnomah Hot Rod Council (MHRC) -- same as it still is today!

Biker!

2013-02-22T17:48:00.001-08:00

If you were a hot rodder in the early Fifties, it was because you wanted to go fast. And if you wanted to go really fast you bought a bike.

That desire for speed was all that bikers and hot rodders had in common. They were two separate groups, and only a few guys crossed over. That’s funny because it would seem that the two groups had a lot in common.

Hot rodders were outlaws who desired respectability, which resulted in mild schizophrenia. A hot rodder really wanted to drag it out at every stop light, but he had that NHRA decal on the windshield right under his nose, and he could read the motto, “Dedicated to Safety”. He also had his club plaque on the back of his car, and he knew that if he got caught street racing he could be bounced from the club. So he built a full-race engine and drove around town at 35 mph.

Bikers, on the other hand, seemed to know who they were. Society had deemed them outlaws and most seemed to embrace that title. They didn’t try to be respectable. You couldn’t ride a bike through an Oregon rainstorm wearing a suit, so bikers wore Levi’s, leather jackets, boots and greasy caps. They hung out at taverns, drank beer, rode noisy cycles and had a chick on the pillion. They weren’t Hell’s Angels yet, but they were moving in that direction.

My father always had one or two old Harleys around, but he didn’t fit the biker image. The guys I was in awe of hung out at Merhar’s Drive-In. That was the only place where you could get exotic food, like Coney Islands and root beer milkshakes, so anything that happened there seemed mysterious to me. From the safety of the back seat of my parents’ car I saw the row of chromed bikes parked near Merhar’s side door. They were big Harleys and Indians, suicide machines, with an occasional Velocette, Triumph or BSA. The bikers stood by their bikes, drinking beer, saying things I couldn’t hear to the passing car hops. Long after the bikers had ripped out of the parking lot I could hear the angry staccato of their exhausts as the roared up 82nd, and I was certain that they were riding to their fiery deaths.

So, naturally, when I later put my roadster on blocks after three years of using it as a daily driver, I bought a bike. The first one was a 1947 BSA twin, a real dog, a suicide machine, but at least I knew who I was.

The Dark Side of the Fifties

2013-02-11T20:11:00.002-08:00

These days a mention of the dark side of the 1950s conjures up images of the threat of communism, the cold war, the blacklist, the suppression of minorities and, in general, a grayness that permeated daily life. Those ideas come from movies and from pundits, most of whom were born well after that decade. From my observations, as a young guy growing up during the 1950s, communists were few and posed little or no threat. The blacklist, which is the subject of a couple recent movies, was a terrible idea but it affected a really small number of people, eg. The Hollywood Ten, etc. I can’t speak about the discrimination of minorities, because in Portland during that time I didn’t know any of any.

There was, however, a grayness, at least at times, in spite of Hawaiian shirts and chartreuse automobiles. The threat to civilization was, if not grayness, then ennui. I felt it. I worked all day at a blue-collar job. In the winter it was dark when I left work for home, and the darkness and the cold was depressing. My mother fixed dinner, hamburger and fried potatoes, or Polish sausage and sauerkraut, maybe Jell-O for dessert, and while I was always hungry and the food tasted good, the menu had a gray sameness.

In 1954 we got a television set, a boxy floor model, which at first seemed like a modern miracle; to watch a show at home was terribly exciting. But after a while I grew tired of sitting in silence in a darkened front room, watching programs featuring fuzzy images of Adolph Menjou or Ronald Coleman; everything was in black and white, of course, or a permeating grayness.

When I got bored I got in my car and drove toward hubs of people; I saw my car reflected in large store windows, a rolling brightness, blue paint and whitewall tires. But by early evening traffic had diminished, and there were few people out walking. Most good citizens were home watching the gray images on their televisions, or were already in bed, tired from a day at work and escaping into sweet sleep before they had to rise and do it all again, and again, and again, for the rest of their lives.

Seeking color, I’d park at the curb in Lents and enter Mt. Scott Drug Store; I’d walk to the rear, where the magazines were kept, and spend time reading the car magazines; when I’d read the new Road & Track, Motorsport, Cycle, I’d move on to the comic books. If there was time, if the druggist didn’t come over and remind me that this was not a library, maybe I’d glance at a copy of Sunshine and Health, where a healthy American family would be playing tennis in the nude. When the druggist repeated his reminder I’d walk across Foster and enter the Rexall Drug Store, where I’d read more publications until I was tired or was asked to leave. The big clock on the wall might read 8:30 pm.

I’d get in my car and cruise. At this hour there was almost no traffic. I cruised to the Hancock gas station at SE 82nd and Woodstock, where I could always find John McGraw, Paul Stukey, Ratchit Ass Nash, maybe Larry Grant and a couple other guys who hung out there. Every station had a bunch of guys who hung out. Looking back, I can see that they were hopelessly trapped in a web that defined the lower class, guys who had perhaps dropped out of school to take a lousy job that would prepare them for another lousy job. They were the working class, but they were certainly not communists, nor were they repressed minorities.

Then, with movement inspired by desperation, I drove south on 82nd until I got to the Harmony Inn, the street’s terminus; all beyond that was dark except for an occasional headlight. Then I cruised Foster Road until I got to 112th; ahead was the forest primeval. Anxious, I quickly made a U-turn and headed toward civilization, land of lights and color.

It was perhaps 9:30; the evening had cost me nothing, except four bits for gas. I headed for home, where the acetylene light of the television flickered against the window.

Interview: Riding Bike in the Fifties

2012-09-26T22:07:00.002-07:00

"Riding Bike in the Fifties" is a book that took years to put together. For most of those years he has been writing about hot rods and custom cars. We asked Al Drake a couple questions why he wanted to write about motorcycles.

Q: Why did you want to write this book?
Drake: In 1971 I wrote a long poem called "Riding Bike." It was inspired by the TV show “Then Came Bronson” where Michael Parks is riding around the country on his motorcycle and getting into trouble. I did a reading of it with sound effects. After that, I wanted to put that poem together with four essays I’d written and some photographs and some old advertisements from magazines I’d bought years ago. And then it grew, with other people contributing their experiences.

Q: Who’s the audience?
Drake: I don’t know any more. I was interested in it, and I wrote it for myself. But I think there’s an underground – there are cadres of people who are interested in British motorcycles and the 50’s. I’ve never written anything with the idea of the audience in mind… just talking to myself.


Here's a newspaper clipping of Roy Burke showing off his hill climbing trophy. This picture didn't make it in the book, but we wanted to share it with you. There's a great photo of him in his Engineer Boots in "Riding Bike in the Fifties".

Q: If you had to sum it up, what's the theme of Riding Bike?
Drake: It looks back at a time when there were fewer restrictions, so I guess we should celebrate that. You didn’t have to wear a crash helmet, you didn’t have to have insurance, you didn’t have to have a big wad of cash, and there were plenty of places to ride. So I guess I’m looking back at that.

Q: Anything else you'd like to say?
Drake: It was kind of a wild time. There was less traffic, and that’s what saved a lot of people. I guess, I hope that there will always be people who want to know what it was like, riding bike in the fifties.

Riding Bike in the Fifties

2012-09-12T22:18:00.003-07:00

"Sometimes, on certain mornings in early fall, when there is a light fog and the air holds a hint of moisture, I can recall so clearly the sound of a single’s exhaust. The mist put a layer of moisture on the chrome, and I’d wipe dew off the seat with a rag, tickle the carb and mount the bike. Using the compression release, I’d kick the piston through until it was on compression stroke and kick it without the compression release, maybe once, maybe more, until it fired. The exhaust was crisp, sharp, with a bark as I cracked the throttle."

This book contains oral histories, essays, a long poem about riding motorcycles in the 1950s. First-hand accounts by guys who had the experiences. A journey into memory, back to a time that has to be called the Golden Age of Motorcycles, British bikes-- BSA, Triumph, AJS, Matchless, Norton, Velocette --had invaded roads and race tracks previously dominated by Harley-Davidson and Indians. If there was a rule it was "run what ya brung," never mind about insurance, licenses, headlights, mufflers, crash helmets. There was never a time when so many were so free on two wheels.

“Riding Bike in the Fifties” is jammed with first-hand accounts of riding and racing motorcycles in the 1950s and vintage black and white photographs and illustrations. Topics range from “What We Wore,” “Where We Rode,” to “The Morning Speed Run,” and “Three-Wheeling.”

131 pages, 10 x 7 x 0.3 inches, perfect-bound (September, 2012)
Stone Press; ISBN: 0-936892-27-7; Signed copy...$19.95

or order from Amazon.

The Maps of "One Summer"

2012-08-25T14:58:00.000-07:00

The original edition of "One Summer" from 1979 included two hand-drawn maps that I made of the Lents area as I remembered it from the late 40's, and as it appears in the story. This large map shows the general Lents area, including directions to Portland and Gresham. In the 1979 edition it appeared on a fold-out page. In the more current edition the map was printed on two pages.

Here's the legend indicating where key points of "One Summer" occur within that map.

I also drew a detailed map of Chris' neighborhood, "downtown" Lents. It shows the old Lents grade school, Rexall Drugs, the Oregonian branch, and other features of the landscape that appear in the story.

"Tilt"

2012-04-03T21:21:00.001-07:00

I have a good long essay called "Tilt" in the May issue of the GoodGuys Gazette. It's about Sam Mullen and Bob Knowles, a car crash and the best pinball game ever. Includes Dorothy McCullough Lee, the first female mayor of Portland (known for her hats), and her attempt to wipe out vice and pinball games.

The Lents Collection

2012-01-11T21:42:00.000-08:00

It seems as if transportation, or failing to travel, has always been entwined in Lents’ fate. The town was originally founded by Oliver Lent when his oxen-drawn wagon broke an axle, and the family decided to stay put. Later, the Mount Scott Trolley, aka “The Galloping Goose” hit the end of the line in Lents. In the mid ‘70s it looked like the end of the world had come to Lents in the form of a giant earthen berm, but it was only the construction for the I-205 freeway, severing the neighborhood from the city, while allowing North / South traffic to speed past the area.

Given this history, it’s not surprising that Albert Drake, drawing from his experiences growing up in Lents, decided to pursue writing about cars and the neighborhood he grew up in. His non-fiction books, such as Street Was Fun in ’51, and Overtures to Motion, document the cars and personalities of the ‘50s. But some might be surprised that before he decided to try hot rod history, Drake wrote poetry and fiction. Some of the books have been hard to find, so Flat Out Press is reprinting them in a new edition which we're calling the “Lents Collection.”

Perhaps people have read Beverly Cleary’s books about Henry Huggins and Ramona Quimby, and gathered from these an image of Portland in the ‘50s as a clean, safe suburban neighborhood. Drake’s “One Summer,” however, shows a neighborhood frayed at the edges by wilderness. Things, such as the old Lents school, are cast aside, but the new things aren't quite in place yet. There's an uncertainty and dangerousness to this feeling, but there's also freedom and excitement.

"One Summer" evokes the sights, sounds and smells of Lents through the eyes of an adolescent boy. Drawing from personal experience, as well as historical events of Portland, Drake weaves the story of a teen in the summer of 1948 that is simultaneously nostalgic and honest. Chris and his friends read Real Clue and Detective Comics at the Mt Scott drugstore, hang out at the movies at a time when John Garfield was starring in "They Made Me A Criminal," and listen to "I Love A Mystery" on the radio. Meanwhile, hints of the adult world intrude on Chris' idyll: the responsibility of a paper route, involvement in petty crimes with his friend Mal, and a plane crash on 92nd Street. "One Summer" taps the feeling of being young, looking for adventure, and finding it in the most surprising places.

Interestingly, when Tri-Met published a study on Lents for the feasibility of the light rail project, they used “One Summer” as a reference.

“Beyond The Pavement” is an attempt to merge a pulp dime-store paperback with a literary novel, while placing it in the same Lents neighborhood. Selected as one of the 100 books that best define the state of Oregon and its people, it's an adult novel about hot rodding and changing times.

Mill Sederstrom suddenly returns from college, hoping to build a race car, get a good job, meet someone nice, but experiences only frustration in all of his pursuits. He’s back living with his parents, cruising 82^nd Avenue, and confused about where he’s supposed to go in life. When this book was first published in 1979 the some of the street names were obscured – “Forster” instead of “Foster”, for example. In this edition the true street names have been restored. Also, the events in the book include the spring break riots at seaside in 1962.

Of the three books in the Lents Collection, “Tillamook Burn” is the most compelling. It’s a collection of short stories and poems that capture the mood of growing up in Portland, Oregon during and after World War II. "The Chicken Which Became a Rat" tells the story of a Japanese immigrant living in the neighborhood during the war, and was included in "Best American Short Stories of 1971." Another story is of a father who needs to replace the U-joint for his '30 Hudson 8 so he can get to the new job on Monday with the Corps of Army Engineers. The first place is too expensive. So Chris and his dad weave through the Lents area looking for a used piece.

The poetry is clear-eyed and honest, too. As one reader has said “There aren't many middle-aged guys who won't understand [the poem] ‘Hearing Marty Robbins Sing White Sport Coat 20 Years Later.’”

All three books, "One Summer," "Beyond the Pavement," and "Tillamook Burn," were previously printed through small presses, and have been out of print and hard to find. Now they are back in print, in a matching set, the "Lents Collection", available from Flat Out Press.

Flat Out Press

Peter Sukalac: Photo Journalist

The First Drags

A Quick History of Hot Rodding Milestones

Bill Cahill

The Brotherhood of Speed

Introduction to Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

Introduction: Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

Reflections in a Spinner Hubcap

Remembering Roger Huntington

Exploring (Excerpt from "One Summer")

Sandy Boulevard, 1949

Dad's 1935 Packard

Old Stuff

The Happy Hot Rodder - 29 Ford

The Big "Little Gto" Book

Gasoline Alley

Riding Bike - page 78

Portland Mayor Terry Shrunk on Hot Rodding - 1955

2nd Annual Portland Roadster Show - October 1957

Biker!

The Dark Side of the Fifties

Interview: Riding Bike in the Fifties

Related articles

Riding Bike in the Fifties

The Maps of "One Summer"

"Tilt"

The Lents Collection