Rubber@Road

White Hot Rod

2011-06-30T11:23:00.001-05:00

[UPDATE: I have entered this photo in the "One Life" photography contest. There is a "People's Choice" award, and I would appreciate your vote here. Thank you. -- Jeff ]

This scene stopped me in my tracks.

The house is from around 1850. The car looks like its vintage is around a hundred years later.

Hot Rods always seemed like they were just a little before my time. Like Elvis and bongo drums. As I have gotten older, I have learned to appreciate early Elvis and early Hot Rods. (Maybe I’m still too young for bongos.)

The car was basically hand made by a man named Bob Merkt, who runs a body shop not far from my house.

Aside from mechanical and fabricating skills, and thousands of hours, it takes some serious creativity to achieve this look – the stance, the paint, the right wheels and tires.

The body is still in flat white primer, which will some day be covered with a pearly white finish. Bob’s hesitant to invest in the fancy paint, because he actually drives this car, as you can see. Personally, I hope he never does.

Bob told me with obvious pride that his son, Bob “Bleed”, builds hot rods down in Austin with Jesse James, and is a noted constructor himself. This kind of thing is hereditary.

Bob Sr. told me that this car has won several best-in-show awards down in Texas, and that Jesse James’ ex, Sandra Bullock, once sat in it. (Maybe that’s her hairbrush!)

“Women love this car!” Bob said, shooting me a grin and shaking his head. “They wanna just hop right in!”

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2011

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Big Rig Graveyard

2011-04-08T13:31:00.002-05:00

As I coasted down a hill upon this scene, I was reminded of an image from an old Tarzan movie: The Elephant Graveyard.

When their teeth were too worn to eat anymore, the sagging elephants would pull themselves off into the jungle to the dying place. Their mammoth carcasses and skeletons stretched across the horizon.

Their days and long nights of pulling the goods of man back and forth across the landscape clearly over, these enormous machines have been left to slowly sink into the grass.

Their cave-like cabs, long inhabited, sit vacant high above the ground, the radio chatter and cigarette smoke long since drifted away.

Hollow eye sockets and gaping mouths, mighty diesel motors once hot now just inert lumps of greasy metal, tires and paint being worn away by the sunlight.

Tilted at uncomfortable angles, as though straining to pull their wheels out of the ground and struggle back onto the highway, only yards away.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2011

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Spring Thoughts – Topless 1965 Buick Electra 225

2011-02-13T21:58:00.004-06:00

I ran across this unique automobile last spring on the highway between Sterling, IL and Polo, IL.

There was a sign that said I was in a community named Penrose. (See map. This car was at the intersection of Penrose Road and Freeport Road.)

It promised to be a warm Spring morning, but the dew was still clinging, and I wondered why the car was sitting with its top down, exposed to the elements.

A closer look revealed that this 1965 Buick Electra 225 is not, in fact, a convertible at all.

The chiseled 225 inch-long flagship of the Buick line was never offered as a four-door convertible. This car once had a solid steel roof, which had been quite skillfully removed. And replaced with nothing. The car has no top whatsoever.

Which explains why the interior has that “weathered” look.

Whoever removed the roof did a very clean job and obviously put a lot of time and effort into doing so.

Which left me wondering how the deuce-and-a-quarter came to sit here, drying off from dew and its sensitive vinyl interior about to be assaulted by the piercing rays of the rising sun.

Click for a very large image

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2011

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Deep Patina - 1939 Mercury Eight Convertible

2011-01-19T13:37:00.001-06:00

Click for a very large image

This Mercury has been sitting outside the body shop down the road from my house since late last summer. I kept thinking the owner would move it indoors before the snow started.

I drove past it many times, thinking I should stop and photograph it, but the car is parked on the North side of the building, and this time of year it was constantly in shadow.

Finally, the snows came. I was on my way over to Doc’s and drove by the Mercury.

Click for a very large image

I had mixed feelings about the Mercury not having been taken in. I felt badly for the car. But I knew it was time to make some pictures.

As I began looking at the car through the lens, my emotions continued to struggle. The car is in desperate shape, as you can see. The floorboards are practically gone. There’s nothing left of the seats save the springs. The once-painted dashboard deeply pitted with rust. I wondered if there was even enough left of this car to save.

Click for a very large image

Yet the aqua-colored glass that remains in the driver’s half of the windshield and the fragments of flamingo-colored plastic that cling to the steering wheel’s rim seemed jaunty and nautical. Looking across the interior with its art deco clock and out onto the long, tapering hood, the Mercury seemed almost like a boat, and I imagined a beautiful young girl behind the wheel with her Veronica Lake hair tossing in the wind, and a bright red smile on her lips.

Click for a very large image

This is a rare car - 1939 or 1940 - either the first or second year of Edsel Ford’s new Mercury brand, and carries one of the earliest mass-produced V8 engines – the famous Ford Flathead. Cars like this one begat the earliest Hot Rods, and people just can’t seem to get enough of old Mercurys, which explains why this shell of a car has not been sent to the crusher.

Wonder where it will be when summer comes around next time.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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2011-01-03T15:35:00.000-06:00

Club Artistes Auto

My Canadian friend Paul Chenard made an exciting announcement recently, which I thought would be of interest to readers of Rubber@Road. Anyone who appreciates art and cars - particularly sports cars and racing cars - is probably familiar with Paul's work, which receives international acclaim.

With Paul's permission, I am reprinting his blog announcing the formation of an international group of automotive artists - the Club Artistes Auto. I am sure you will enjoy Paul's blog "AUTOMOBILIART", and the work of these other automotive artists!

From Paul Chenard -

My good friend Belgian artist and friend Nicolas Cancelier thought that we should start an international group of automotive artists who like to chat, exchange ideas, exhibit their art together, and share a meal after events.

I thought it was a wonderful idea, thus Club Artist Auto (CAA) was formed. Both artists Anna-Louise Felstead of the UK and Rick Rucker of the USA joined us in founding the group.

Along the way, other artists who are enthusiastic about our new group have supported us. Dutch artist Ronald Hulleman kindly translated our brochure to Dutch. American artist Greg Spradlin of AutomotiveArtists.com jumped in to provide CAA a website and email link.

The goal of the members of this group is to be there and to be part of it, and all these artists exemplify perfectly what this group is about.

The potential for CAA members is huge; this is the only truly international group of automotive artists!

We are all volunteers, so portfolio revues can’t happen right away. But as we get rolling, I know we will a major force in the market, the go-to group for quality automotive art.

“Unsafe at Any Speed” – 1962 Chevrolet Corvair

2010-12-08T09:31:00.003-06:00

Look at this adorable little car.

It's kind of hard to imagine this cute little Chevy played a pivotal role, not just in automotive history, but American history.

In the early ‘60s some Americans were developing a taste for small European cars, particularly Volkswagens. GM, to its credit, saw an opportunity. Although the Corvair was arguably better looking, it was essentially a Volkswagen Beetle.

Like the VW, it was nimble, lightweight, easy on gas - and fun. Like the Beetle, its engine was in the back, and air-cooled. And like the Beetle, it had an independent rear suspension.

That “swing axle” rear suspension - and the failure of GM to adequately damp the tendency of wheels at the end of said suspension to “tuck under” - was the topic of Chapter One in Ralph Nader’s book, “Unsafe at any Speed”. On national TV (remember that?) Nader solemnly told the U.S. Congress that the Corvair was the “leading candidate for the un-safest-car title”. What a killjoy.

Long story short, GM stalked Nader trying to catch him having fun, got busted, built the Corvair for a couple more years apparently just to spite him, and climbed back into the box where they built ever-larger, heavier cars until… well, until further notice. The whole "foreign" car thing eventually caught on.

Nader’s book convinced the America public of a couple of things. First, that they needed federal protection from the auto industry. (Four decades later, GM would need the feds to save them from the American public.)

And, that bigger cars are just better.

Nader rode (he never drove) his consumer crusader image into a three-way race in the 2000 presidential election, possibly careening George “W” Bush into office.

Jim, seen here, is from a Chevy family, and bought this Corvair because he wanted “something different.” Looking past the vastly more popular Camaros and Corvettes, Jim decided the Corvair was just more fun.

He tells me his nine-year old daughter was embarrassed to ride in “the old car” until people started smiling and waving. Now she gets it.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Bringing the Light - 1990 Ford C8000 Utility Truck

2010-10-09T09:57:00.005-05:00

This truck has been working on a major intersection near my home all summer.

I’ve noticed it dozens of times, and admired its, well… utility - as well as its softly rounded features and, of course, great patina.

As you can see, it has an auger for drilling a good sized hole in the ground - a foot wide or so - and a boom for raising poles. I don’t know, it may have some other tricks as well. The day I finally stopped to make some photos, it was raising aluminum light poles, so they could be bolted onto their bases.

I was somewhat surprised to learn the truck is “only” 15 years old, as the styling seems like late 50’s vintage. Doing a little research, I have found pictures of these C8000 models going back at least to the mid-sixties, and a similar cab style even older than that. A lot of these trucks did service as fire trucks all over the country.

Steve, the driver of this truck, and the man in the photos, has been working with it for several years, and uses the boom like it was his own arm.

He was happy to talk a bit about the truck while the other member of his crew was securing the post to the base.

He wanted me to come around to look at the lugs on the tread of the rear tire. He jammed a couple of his fingers into it, where they disappeared nearly up to his fingernails. “Does that tread look shot to you?” he asked me. “The cop told me that there are supposed to be little grooves that go across there, and because they aren’t there, that I’m in violation. I went and looked at a brand new one of these tires and it looked just like this one. No grooves. What am I supposed to do? Pull the tires off and take ‘em to the judge?”

“What are you going to do?” I asked Steve. “Pay the tag.” he smiled, dragging on his cigarette.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Dan the Packer Man - 1989 "Pacura"

2010-09-04T07:43:00.000-05:00

NOTE: With football season upon us once again, I am re-posting one of my favorite interviews here. This piece was originally posted on November 10, 2009.

I met Dan (“The Packer Man”) from Oconomowoc in a parking lot yesterday. It made my day.

Sunday, the day before we met, the Green Bay Packers had managed to present the 7-0 Tampa Bay Buccaneers with their first win of the season in a spectacular display of self-destruction. In spite of this, the sun was shining up in its heaven, which always surprises Packer fans on the morning after a loss.

It’s not terribly unusual to see cars (or even houses) that have gotten the Packer treatment, but Dan’s car carries Packer décor to an exceptional level of detail.

It’s a 1989 Acura Integra, (note the license plate) which was red from the factory, but now carries a paint scheme that replicates perfectly his favorite team’s helmets.

The helmets in the rear window carry all of the numbers retired by the Packers team over their long history.

The hood ornament, which I absolutely love, is actually a trophy for a Punt, Pass and Kick contest from 1974, which Dan bought at a yard sale. He removed the metal figure, painted it Packer colors and bolted it to the hood. I love the way he is leaning forward into the wind, arms at his side.

Dan told me that he only recently repainted the hood ornament’s jersey number to 12. (Some people here have had a very hard time letting go of #4. Others apparently gave Dan a hard time after Bret went over to the Vikings.)

Dan says driving the PACURA is a real kick because of the reaction he gets everywhere he goes. People get so excited about the PACURA that they pass him and then slow back down just to give him a smile and a thumbs up. When was the last time that happened to you on the freeway?

Dan confided that after he decked out the car, his wife swore she would never be seen in it. He thinks she thought it would be embarrassing. “That’s YOUR car”, she told him.

When Dan finally convinced her to go out for a spin in the PACURA, (must have been after a big win) she couldn’t believe the honks, smiles, waves, and genuine expressions of appreciation the car draws from so many people. Now, she wants to drive it to work because it puts her in such a good mood!

As I was thanking Dan for being such a good sport, I finally noticed his Packers watch. Dan confessed that he wasn’t wearing his Packers rings today because he was “traveling incognito… I’m laying low after that game yesterday.”

OK, Dan.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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On Any Sunday - Badger Kart Club - Dousman WI

2010-08-23T13:09:00.011-05:00

Most Sunday mornings from spring through summer the grounds of the Badger Kart Club are covered with family SUVs and campers pulling boxy trailers. Inside these trailers are miniature garages and in the garages sit some serious, if very lightweight, racing machines.

A child of the Hot Rod movement back in the mid-50s, karting is now mature enough that some families have been racing for three generations. It is not uncommon for a family to sport multiple drivers. A scene of father or mother working with a young racer is the norm – and many of those young drivers are girls.

The open-wheel machines are obviously different for the kids and the older races. The “senior” karts have two or four-cycle water-cooled engines that can turn up to 17,000 RPM and crank more than 30 horsepower. When attached to a kart and driver that weigh 350 pounds combined, 0-60 acceleration can be less than four seconds - and top speeds of around 70MPH are possible, depending on the gearing and the track.

I met a guy named Dominic who told me he started racing six or seven years ago in his early 20s, and would have started sooner except when he lived at home his mother wouldn’t let him. The sport can obviously be dangerous, and driving suits, boots, gloves and full helmets are required. Most drivers I saw also wore a head restraining collar and some even had chest protectors. There are no roll bars or seat belts. If the kart is flipping over, it’s best to leave.

Karting is not only an affordable motorsport, it is also seen as the best way to learn the techniques required for a career in auto racing, with most contenders for the World Driving Championship and many NASCAR drivers having come up through kart racing. As I hope you can see from my photos, kart racing is highly competitive, and the fast drivers are very serious.

“I’m just sitting here trying to think of something to make this kart just a little bit faster," one man offered as I looked at his kart up on the stand. It turns out the kart is his daughter Jen’s.

Jen holds a tenuous points lead in her class, and is now 18. She started racing at the age of five.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Caged Bird – 1967 Pontiac Firebird 400

2010-08-13T11:25:00.008-05:00

When I saw this Firebird staring through the chain-link fence at this storage place outside of Sterling, IL, I have to admit, I empathized with it. It’s not even a car that I have any emotional attachment to.

I don’t know what it says about me that with all of the human suffering going on in the world, I sometimes feel sorry for machines.

It’s just painfully obvious from the hand-painted flame-drops, that someone – probably a kid - poured so much of themselves into this old bird, and now it sits, tires rotting, dew rolling from its stationary beak. Sharing space with campers. Surely someone has memories of this car soaring along the open road.

To add insult to injury, an actual bird felt so confident that this Firebird isn’t going anywhere soon that it chose the car’s right rear tire to build its nest.

At least whoever drove it last parked it with its nose facing out, so it can be appreciated by passers-by. Maybe someone who thinks this old Firebird can fly again.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Pickup Patina - 1967 Ford F100 Stepside

2010-08-07T19:32:00.001-05:00

I think I might be a “patina guy”. I hadn’t even heard of the expression until it was used to describe me. But it’s the patina that makes me want this truck.

Cars and trucks, especially working trucks, will accumulate wear, scratches, and rust that follow patterns based on the interaction of the surface with repeated human contact. And then there are the random dents. As in this example, often the hard chrome plating is the last surface to begin to break down, save the glass.

I found this truck early one morning, and was enthralled by the transparency of its paint. Maybe you can figure out if the truck was originally blue or orange, but I haven’t bothered trying to figure it out; it’s the pattern of wear and the borders between the two colors that I found just beautiful.

As with any old objects, original surface – patina – can have a great effect on an item’s desirability for certain people – "patina guys". Guess I am.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell

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Gearhead, wrench, artist

2010-07-28T15:10:00.013-05:00

As a matter of course, I write about people I don’t know here. I see a unique vehicle; I chase it down, photograph it, and interview the owner. Today, I’m writing about a good friend.

Mark and I met in art school back in the early 70s. He was studying Industrial Design, making sculpture for fun. And fixing up Corvairs. He was driving a primer white one then, with no interior trim except for the dashboard, driver’s seat, and - when you were lucky - a seat for you.

Ralph Nader would have been horrified. In fact, Mark’s license plate said it all; “UNSAFE”.

After a gap of some 30 years, I have had the pleasure of getting back in touch with Mark. He is still doing things his own way. (“Well, I lack any adult supervision”, he points out.) It struck me as ironic that he has worked for many years at Johnson Controls, testing and trouble-shooting automotive seats and interior parts.

And he’s still fixing up Corvairs. And Camaros, and ‘Vettes. And Chevy pickup trucks.

Mark has the skills to take a car completely apart, and the vision to then re-assemble that pile of parts. Each part, no matter how mundane, is cleaned, straightened, refinished before it is assembled into a complete, drivable vehicle. A work of art – industrial design and sculpture.

In the process, he has collected what he calls “The Archive” of Chevrolet parts from the 60s, mainly Corvair, some of which you see here. It may look as though these parts are just piled up randomly. They are not. Virtually every part is tagged and cataloged, hardware bagged and attached, and many carry Mark’s hand-drawn diagrams illustrating how this particular component attaches to its neighbors to eventually form an entire automobile.

Mark says he has enough Corvair parts to assemble “at least two really nice ones.” Which he might do, when he is finished restoring the 1953 Chevy pickup in the garage. And rebuilding his 1923-vintage wood frame house.

Mark took some time from all this restoration to collaborate with me on a photographic exposition of human expression through the automobile for a School of Art Alumni Show, and it was a gas to work with him.

--

Your father’s Ferrari - Vintage racing at Road America

2010-07-21T14:21:00.009-05:00

To those of us old enough to recognize a carburetor, there’s a powerful attraction to cars that possess these old mixing pots for fuel and air.

The cars of the post WWII era through the mid-seventies hold a spell on gearheads, especially racing cars.

While a modern race car is pretty much a computer lab on wheels, leaving a wake of data that’s analyzed and acted upon in real-time by a crew of engineers along the pit wall, these cars were generally designed without the aid of wind tunnels or computer simulators. Many are simply modified road cars that were never intended for competition.

Road car or purpose-built racer, they represent a team’s or sometimes a single man’s best guess at what would be fast at a given point in time. In the absence of actual data, there is wonderful and endless variety in their forms, dominated by the sure knowledge that lighter is better and a part is only too light if it breaks.

The purpose-built race cars are hand-made by experts at casting, machining and bending metals and other more exotic materials, and the intricacy of their construction is mind boggling. Full attention to the smallest part is required, or that part becomes the one that is not able to withstand the stress and the heat, and gives way, taking the entire operation out of the race.

All excess material having been shaved off, parts are frequently polished to various levels of reflectivity, sometimes just to show off the beauty of their forms.

The Kohler International Challenge at Wisconsin’s Road America is an annual gathering of aficionados of old race cars from all over the world. They come to celebrate the sounds and sights of these vintage machines. They represent a high point in optimizing an internal combustion engine and a set of four wheels to carry a single person as fast as possible around a given stretch of road.

The lucky ones even get to race them.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Vintage Wooden Driver – 1984 Chrysler LeBaron Town & Country

2010-07-08T17:31:00.008-05:00

About the same time that serious golfers were bagging their wooden drivers and moving to metal-headed ones, Chrysler was bolting wood-like panels to its boxy K-car LeBaron, in the 50-year-old tradition they branded “Town & Country”.

I caught up with this one, most appropriately, in the parking lot of a local country club. The Town & Country could not have been more comfortable unless the forecast of thunder showers had not discouraged a top-down ride.

By 1984, Lee Iacocca had moved over from Ford to take the stick of the nose-diving Chrysler, which he saved by going to Washington in 1979 and asking the government for loan guarantees to calm banks and deserting investors. But in addition to his considerable political skills, Lee was a car guy with legendary ability to read the market, even before his customers. (Remember Iacocca’s personal challenge in those TV commercials; “If you can find a better car, buy it.”) Without this K-car and its siblings, it’s safe to say that Chrysler would not have survived to be bailed out again.

The Town & Countries were almost all station wagons, making this convertible quite rare, with just over 1,100 built in 1984. It was definitely the high-end variant of the K-car, with Mark Cross supplying the design of the “fine Corinthian” leather interior touted so famously by spokesman Ricardo Montalban.

This car also has the “Electronic Voice Alert”, which the owner tells me still works perfectly. Built by Texas Instruments, and using the same voice synthesizer technology as the contemporary “Speak n Spell” educational toy, the system lowers the radio volume (if necessary) and provides polite reminders to put on your seatbelt, seek service for a critical engine problem, and, when disembarking, “Don’t forget your car keys”.

The owner, Mr. O’Neil (who tells me his friends call him “Tip”), smiled and told me “And it always says “Thank you’. (You can listen to an EVA and a Speak n’ Spell having a conversation - of sorts – here.)

Mr. O’Neil is recently retired and drives the car almost exclusively to the club. Tip told me he has worked there for over 30 years. When I asked him if he was a Pro, he smiled and said, “Yeah. I’m a professional bartender.”

While he worked nights and weekends drawing beers for people of comfortable means, Mr. O’Neil worked days for as many years teaching kids who are “at risk” at a local high school. “It was very challenging,” he told me, “but I loved it.”

I think it’s wonderful that Mr. O’Neil and his Town & Country get to spend so much time at the club these long summer days. They’ve both worked hard and done a fine job. In the words of the Electronic Voice Alert, Mr. O’Neil; “Thank you”.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell

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Land Shark; flat black 2000 Ford Taurus

2010-06-24T10:43:00.005-05:00

I was meeting my friends Clay and Paul in a hip café near campus on the east side of Milwaukee. How hip? Deep fried balls of shredded turkey meat with mashed potatoes and beer gravy? Comet Café. Farwell Avenue.

As I approached, I sensed the presence of this menacing car.

Go ahead and snicker. I don't blame you. There is probably no more domesticated a car than a 2000 Ford Taurus.

But look into the yellowed, moist, cataract-covered eyes of this beast. Even the self-adhesive Gothic symbols are shredding themselves from its flanks. There’s a roll of toilet paper on the rear package shelf, for God’s sake. This is a nasty car. Nasty.

I was telling Clay and Paul about it as I slid into the booth.

Our waitress, Ariel, smiled cheerily and said “Oh, that’s my car.”

“I got the sweet Wolverine gash when I backed into a fence.”

This incident prompted the paint job, and the blood gushing from the wound is meant to make a statement. “I wanted to enter a demolition derby, so I wanted her to look real mean," Arial told me, clenching her teeth a little bit. (She also confided that she sometimes refers to the Taurus as the “BratMobile”, but that’s not an "official" name. I'm sure she'll come up with something more intimidating.)

"But then I found out that the derbies have all these safety requirements, like a special gas tank, harnesses, and everything. And the suspension is shot. I was afraid I wouldn’t even meet the safety standards for a demolition derby." There's your proof. This car is too dangerous for the demolition derby.

“There was never any doubt about the color. It was always going to be flat black.”

All content copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010
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Stock cars at Road America

2010-06-21T20:43:00.012-05:00

NASCAR was in the my neck of the woods over the weekend, and the opportunity to see the big cars muscle around Road America’s 14 – left and right – corners was not to be missed.

I’ve been to any number of the United States’ premier road racing circuits; Laguna Seca, Mid-Ohio, Michigan, Indianapolis, and Watkins Glen for the U.S.G.P back in the day. Plus a bunch of smaller circuits for SCCA club events. But Road America is by far my favorite race track.

Road America would be a lovely place to spend the afternoon even if there weren’t a race track there. Deep green forests of mature oaks stand at the tops of long lush hills leading down to the track.

To someone from Wisconsin, it’s almost unnatural that there are no Holsteins on the slopes of the valley that holds turn five.

When there’s a race, it’s like county fair time, but instead of prize cows you have these amazing cars.

In this case, it was the NASCAR Nationwide cars that were stampeding around the course, and these animals do have some very wide shoulders. The NASCAR boys are not afraid to lean on the competition when things get tight, and Road America has lots of turns where things got very tight. Too tight in a couple of cases. NASCAR needs to learn that a car off the course doesn’t necessitate a full course yellow flag until - well, until the cows come home.

Unfortunately, I was not at Canada Corner when the three lead cars entered this legendary downhill 90-degree right-hander side-by-side, but that amazing moment has been added to the lore of this track, which goes back to the mid-50’s – the very beginning of sports car racing in the U.S.

I don’t know if you’d call these machines sports cars, but I’m pretty sure the drivers enjoyed their drive in the country about as much as we enjoyed watching them.

All content copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Crazy ‘bout a Mercury Ford

2010-06-09T07:51:00.007-05:00

In tribute to the fallen Mercury, here are some that I have photographed recently.

I had my money
I tell you what I'd do
I would go downtown an’
Buy a Merc'ry or two
I'm crazy 'bout a Merc'ry
Yes, I'm crazy ‘bout a Merc'ry Ford
I’m gonna buy a Merc'ry an’
Cruise up and down the road

Mercury Boogie by K. C. Douglas and Robert Geddins

My Dad’s first job with Ford was actually with the L-M division, so I have known more than a few Mercurys. A Turnpike Cruiser - which I remember for its extremely awkward styling – and a Comet Caliente which I remember for being a red convertible with a four-on-the-floor are the only two that stand out.

Mercury’s best years occurred before I was born – on the salt flats, beaches and drag strips of Southern California. But I did get to see Cale Yarborough and David Pearson muscle huge Mercury Cyclones around Michigan International Speedway back when NASCAR stock cars were basically stock cars. And I saw the great Dan Gurney race a Cougar wheel to wheel with Panelli Jones in a Mustang and Mark Donohue in a Camaro in the classic TransAm series.

Sales figures prove that there are not a lot of people who will mourn, or even miss, Mercury. But as long as it was breathing, there was always the possibility that it would get an infusion of support from Ford management. Not-quite-a-Lincoln is obviously not a viable niche, but perhaps it could have become the Scion of Ford. Could the brand survive as the entry gateway to Ford, rather than the exit from it?

Ford says they are now going to focus those Mercury resources on developing Lincoln. Judging from the Mercury products of recent years, that is not a lot.

I’ve got my fingers crossed for Lincoln.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

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Cartoon Caravan

2010-06-09T07:06:00.014-05:00

I came across this second generation Dodge Caravan parked in downtown Sterling, Illinois one morning.

It’s really unfortunate that I didn’t get a chance to meet the owner, because I would love to discuss the iconography behind this art.

Signed over the driver’s side headlight by “tater”, this is much better work than your run-of-the-mill ”Hey, let’s get out some damn brushes and paint the damn minivan!” minivan.

The whole thing has sort of a Peter Max/Yellow Submarine 1960s vibe to it, yet I didn’t see a single peace sign. And there are some edgier elements, like the rats and the voracious-looking shark and T-Rex comparing maws across the rear hatch. Then there’s the boxing condiments. (How do you even tell when a ketchup bottle is bleeding?)

The flying eyeball prominent on the hood has been symbolizing the all-seeing eye of various gods going back millennia, and has a prominent place in “Kar Kulture” due to its frequent use by the legendary pinstripe designer known as Von Dutch.

There’s a Native American “dream catcher” and a Christmas tree perilously close to an old-school Spy-vs.-Spy bomb (fuse lit!)

I welcome your interpretations of any of these elements, I’m sure they’re as good as mine. But I’d love to talk to you, tater. If you see this, drop me a line, man.

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Interiors - A Sense of Place

2010-05-19T01:29:00.007-05:00

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Each of these three images of interiors conveys me to a very specific place and mood.

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Each draws me into their space. As I look at them, I can imagine spending a half hour waiting for someone in that seat, behind that wheel. I can feel the objects – stiff, scratchy mohair, smooth painted steel and the hard, slick chrome.

I can feel the smooth-grained vinyl and even smell it warming in the sun.

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The Unfortunate Tree; A Roadside Memorial

2010-05-09T17:28:00.005-05:00

It’s too bad someone in a large truck didn’t mow down this tree when it was still a sapling. The seed took hold outside of a bend in a road that otherwise runs straight for a half a mile or so.

This is exactly where you wind up if you are driving too fast for conditions.

Long ago, the tree reached the state of “immovable object”.

It bears the scars of multiple impacts.

Of course, it’s not the tree that causes the accidents, but still I wonder if it should not be taken down before it kills again.

I am reminded of Shel Silverstein’s classic story about the tree who gave its own life for the shelter and comfort of a boy growing into a man. Trees certainly provide abundantly for us. And occasionally, trees take someone away.

All contents copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010

www.jefferyblackwell.com

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Pensacola Autoworks – 1976 Chevrolet Impala

2010-04-27T09:09:00.013-05:00

“We do everything custom – bodywork, paint, airbrushing, upholstery, airbags – everything but the motor,” Joe told me.

I had met Joe beside Highway 29 in Pensacola, Florida one morning, while I was visiting my wife’s cousin who lives a little north of the city.

As is my habit, I was out early, driving the tiny Korean car I had rented at the airport. (Have you ever noticed that cars that are modestly powered, shall we say, frequently are engineered so that the accelerator pedal has violent tip-in? I could barely keep from spinning the skinny fronts on this thing, and yet once rolling it took a couple blocks to reach 60MPH.)

I hadn’t had much luck trolling for unusual wheels until this eye-searing red 1973 Chevrolet Caprice convertible rumbled into range. I did a quick turnaround (uncomfortably close to an oncoming cement truck, I realized half way through the maneuver) and started tailing the big red Chevy.

Out on the divided highway, he cut into a turn-around in the median, then shot upstream about 10 yards on the wrong side of the highway, diving into the driveway in front of a nondescript brick and tin building. He then proceeded to back the car around park it nose out - perpendicular to the road, to serve as a product-placement beside the stream of passing motorists.

By the time I whipped the little Rio around and hopped out, he had gone into the building, but his rims were still spinning, flashing in the rising Florida sun. That same sun had me wondering how to get a decent picture of this red hot machine.

That’s when I heard Joe behind me.

I was a bit puzzled by his statement that the shop does custom “airbags”. Joe schooled me by demonstration - "airbags" are in fact a system that uses compressed air to raise the body of the car up on the wheels.

(A high school friend had an old Citroen DS with a similar feature – except it was hydraulic. We used to get a kick out of pulling up next to someone at a red light and then lowering or raising ourselves and watching their reaction. As if the shape of the DS wasn’t a weird enough site in rural Michigan.)

Joe owns the 1976 Impala you see here. He stepped around to the drivers’ door. As he began to open it, I thought it was a “suicide” door – opening from the leading edge, rather than the trailing. I thought that was a pretty radical customization, but when he had the door open maybe 30 degrees or so, he began to lift it. I was amazed when it opened scissor-style, like a Lamborghini.

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The opening revealed an interior that had been stripped down to the bare metal. There were no seats. In order to demonstrate the airbags, Joe swung himself in, and sat down on door sill. I didn’t see how he actually activated the airbags, but the front end of the Impala began rearing up and the back end followed closely.

Soon, the entire body was riding in four-wheeler territory, and Joe was watching to see if the Kia driver was duly impressed. I’m sure he enjoyed my expression of childish joy at the ridiculousness of this machine.

Joe flashed me a wide grin, every one of his teeth edged by a millimeter or so of gold metal.

"Come back in a month," he suggested. "You won't believe this car."

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Penrose Garage - 1985 Ford Ranger Dragster

2010-04-16T16:25:00.020-05:00

In rural Illinois, unless their path is diverted by a natural barrier like a river or a Walmart, roads are dead straight and 5,280 feet apart. Perfect for driving large farm implements and drag racing.

I had been through Penrose, IL at least a hundred times and never knew it.

I always slow for the cross street at the bottom of a long, shallow dip in the highway between Sterling – where my wife’s dad lives – and Polo, IL where her Aunt and Uncle used to live. And I always make a point to glance at the old store because it would be a great place to stop if it were ever open, which it never has been in the 20-some years I have been driving by.

I was out early on Easter Sunday and ended up passing through Penrose again, (although I still didn’t know it existed.) To my delight, parked in front of the SPOT-LITE FOOD MART was an early-sixties Buick “deuce and a quarter” with its period full-vinyl interior cavalierly exposed to the destructive rays of the warming sun.

Of course I pulled over and began walking around the car and in doing so set off the black spaniel-kind-of-dog guarding the house across the street and she sent the appropriate alarm up into the otherwise still morning air.

Eventually, her owner stepped squinting from the house to see what had tripped the dog and there I was. He didn’t appear to be overly concerned, but I felt I should apologize for the commotion, so I walked across the street and did so.

We talked for less than a minute about the Buick and it was clear that this was a car guy. “Yeah, I repair transmissions out of the garage there,” he said nodding. “And work on our race car.” This is precisely the kind of statement that makes my day.

The man’s name is Bob Richards and he operates the Penrose Garage, as he has for over 30 years. Transmissions – automatic transmissions – are his specialty. (Even if you are capable of understanding the schematic of an automatic transmission, don't bother trying to explain it to me. The metal casings look like wood that has been sorely infested with termites, and there are stacks of gears no thicker than the ones on a bicycle that apparently are capable of moving several thousand pounds of automobile.)

I asked Bob if I could see the race car and he informed me that it was actually a Ford Ranger pickup truck. It’s the only Ranger on the local drag race scene, and as far as he knows, the only one going. (Yes, the “Lone Ranger”.)

Whether you know anything about drag racing or not, you can appreciate the craftsmanship and ingenuity that Bob and his friends have put into this machine. The majority of the parts are designed and fabricated by these guys.

He pointed out that a few miles down I-80 I would find the Cordova International Raceway Park, and seemed to withhold judgment of me when I said I hadn’t heard of it. (He did ask if I was from Chicago.) He relayed the claim that Cordova puts out - that its “World Series of Drag Racing” is “The Oldest Continuous Drag Race in the World!!!”, having been held every August since 1956. (I plan to be there this year.)

Anyway, Bob has a team – “three old guys who are too dumb to know it can’t be done” - that has worked together over five years to turn a clapped-out $200 pickup truck into a fire-breathing thing of beauty. Bob shared that he is now 62 years old, and his buddies – Terry and Gary - are roughly of the same vintage. Terry, who does most of the driving, is in fact, 69.

Bob is an extremely modest man. He continuously raved about the man who did the paint, the guy who did the pinstriping, and his partners in the project. Ultimately, Bob said something like this; “I’m not a real religious guy, but all this is a gift from the guy upstairs.” He told me the team has a plan to pay it forward, but asked me to keep the details of that operation “off the record.”

While the “Lone Ranger” is still officially “under development”, Bob suggested (I have to say, somewhat coyly,) that he expects to pull at least 600 Horsepower from the Ford V8 when it’s in full race trim.

Just a few short weeks from now.

www.jefferyblackwell.com

Magic Bus - Phantom Sonata

2010-04-01T11:13:00.008-05:00

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I saw this ad on a bus in Madison Wisconsin yesterday, and wanted to send kudos to the artist.

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Using the actual rear wheel of the bus for the graphic is pretty cool, and I found it tickling the part of my brain that distinguishes 2D from 3D.

The front graphic is interesting, but nowhere near as successful as the profile.

It had the effect of a semi-transparent Hyundai Sonata. It sure got my attention.

All content copyright Jeffery Blackwell 2010
An Automotive Americana Production

www.jefferyblackwell.com

Curtis and Dixie - 1996 Chrysler Sebring

2010-03-20T09:41:00.008-05:00

If you gotta ghost, you know who ya gonna call. But how do you know if you gotta ghost?

You call Curtis, who drives this intense red-on-black 1996 Chrysler Sebring.

"You're not haunted until I say you're haunted,” Curtis told me.

I first saw Curtis tooling down a country road with his dog, Dixie. I swear the dog was smiling at me.

Curtis pulled out behind me, so I pulled over and grabbed my camera, to get a shot of him and Dixie driving past. He pulled up short and turned down another side road, avoiding driving past me, and it seemed deliberate. I whipped around to follow him, and saw him pulling into a driveway ahead. I rolled by slowly, and as I did, he started to back up. I hauled around and headed back just as he was stopping at the end of the drive and our eyes locked. He suddenly backed out of the driveway and turned towards me, crowding over the road into my path. Still staring at each other, we both rolled to a stop, driver to driver.

“Hey, man I love your car,” I told him. He looked skeptical. “Can I take some pictures of it? I do this blog…” I launched into my elevator speech. It seemed even more important than usual to be disarming at this point.

Curtis responded, “I’ve had people report me to the SPCA because they think my dog is in danger, but she’s wearing a harness. She can’t fall out. When I saw you get out the camera…” Now he smiled. “Sure, you can take some pictures”, he said, “go back to the highway and take the first left, where you saw me pull out. Go down that road, and I’ll meet you in front of the cemetery.”

"That’ll be a great background, because I’m a Paranormal Investigator”. OK, now this is cool.

At the cemetery, Curtis and I exchanged business cards (yes, he has business cards. If you want his phone number, just drop me an email.) Curtis uses the name Cemetery Gates Paranormal Investigation, and promises his service is discrete and confidential. He assured me he won’t roll up to your house in this car.

“Nine out of ten cases are just paranoia,” Curtis told me. “Those noises you here during the first night after moving into an old house? That’s the boiler. And when someone pulls out of that one driveway down the road, it’s that tree that casts a moving shadow on your window that looks like someone walking past.”

I asked him about the tenth case. “Well, he said, I definitely believe in an afterlife.”

He showed me some photos on his cell phone that he had taken in a cemetery the other night. Standing in the sun, the screen was pretty hard to see, but there were a series of images he taken by the light of a million candlepower spotlight. (Yes, they make those. My dad had one.)

In the first image, beyond some headstones, the spotlight was bouncing back into the lens off of some shiny object. In the second, which appeared to be aligned closely with the first, the bright spot was replaced by – a black hole. As if something was now absorbing the light. The third image in the series showed a whisp of smoke or fog emanating from the hole. It was weird, all right.

I decided to return the questioning to this life, and asked Curtis about his car. “You really like it?” he asked. Everything I did to it, except the logo, was to cover up some dent or ding. Like here, where I hit a deer,” he said pointing to a dent underneath a sticker on the front fender. Curtis designs and makes some of these stickers himself. “The wheels were rusty, so I pained ‘em red.”

“I’m a natural born skeptic,” he told me. I’m perfect for this job, because I don’t believe anything until it’s right in my face. My fiancé, now, she’s the sensitive one. She feels all kinds of stuff that you can’t see.”

At this point Dixie indicated to Curtis that she had grown impatient with this unexpected interruption in her joyride, so we shook hands, and the two of them rolled off.

Hillbilly Chrome

2010-03-13T08:21:00.008-06:00

That’s what Gary called the ubiquitous silvery tape he used to reconstruct the rear bumper of his Dakota.

I have seen it labeled as both duct tape (tape for sealing ducts) and duck tape (for taping - ducks) Google shows that “duck tape” is by far the more popular term. (117,000 results to 932,000). So, as with all things in life, I will defer to Google.

(In the video production business, it’s called “gaffer’s tape” and in racing it is, of course, “racer’s tape”.)

Originally “gun tape” developed during the Second World War, the rubbery stuff was often used to make temporary repairs to Jeeps, and so Gary’s truck follows in that line.

It’s a 1998, and except for what’s left of the rear bumper, pretty solid. Here in the salt belt of the upper Midwest, “pretty solid” is a sympathetic way to describe the body of a vehicle that has withstood the ravages of rust without developing actual holes through the metal.

Gary applied what appears to be a good percentage of the roll of duck tape to the bumper to temporarily keep the thing from falling off. When it warms up, he intends to build a more substantial one from a couple of 4x8’s. You’ll notice that Gary, looking to avoid any safety concerns on the part of the authorities, even duck taped a small flashlight onto the duck tape bumper that shines on his license plate after dark. Of course, you have to remember to go back there and turn it on.

Gary, as you might expect, turns out to be an interesting guy, and a man of diverse interests and talents. He is a stone mason, a skill I have long admired, building walls, fireplaces and such from mere rocks (presumably with mortar – not duck tape.) But that business has taken a big hit since the housing bust (“When you need a plumber, you need a plumber now.”), so he has another job working for the county.

In his past Gary was a forensic photographer, gathering evidence at crime scenes, specializing in arson cases. In fact, Gary developed a method of obtaining usable fingerprints off metal that has been exposed to flame and intense heat, which incinerates the oil that is exposed with ordinary fingerprint methods.

He and I talked about cameras for a while, his old Minolta XE-7 (a classic first generation electronic film camera), the exceptionally fine grain of Ilford black-and-white film, and the days of the darkroom.

Nice guy, Gary, and very solid. I hope I run into him again after he installs the wooden bumper.