It’s harder than one might initially think to come up with two posts a week (roughly 104 posts a year) for the Journal, trying to deliver something relatively interesting and semi-original. My hat is off to Ryan!! I definitely wasn’t an English major in school, and between work and family schedules, it’s a challenge to get the ‘desk time’ needed for the quality level that the posts and you, the reader, deserve.

All this being said, I guess I just wanted to look in the rear view mirror at the past year, and get myself fired up to keep heading down this road with you. Since the birth of our second child 9 months ago, I haven’t attended even half the car events that I did last year, so the Jalopy Journal (and the HAMB) have been a great way to stay connected to what’s going on out there with your car projects, barn finds, the good shows/ road trips, and the mechanical innovation & inspiration that seems to come up out of left field by some mighty talented folks on here.

If the good Lord’s willing, and the creek don’t rise, here’s to another year of Jalopy Journals, and hopefully another 40 years of hot rodding around…

photo courtesy of Ryan Cochran

We were all surprised as not many folks build flatheads with non-adjustable lifters anymore. Reason being, setting valve lash is a real chore consisting of fitting the valve assembly, measuring lash, removing the assembly, grinding, fitting, removing, grinding, fitting, removing, grinding… and so on…

Even so, the worse news was that because we were looking at non-adjustable lifters it seemed likely that I had a torn up cam to deal with as, obviously, a lifter didn’t just “back-off” as I was hoping. I think we were all convinced that some bad shit had gone down.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

And then we got lucky. As we located the valve with excess lash and began to make funeral arrangements, silva noticed something laying in the intake valley.

“What the hell is that?”

Once we fished it out of the oil, we realized it was a small round “cap” made of hardened steel. One side of this cap had some brazing residue and the other looked as though it had been tapped millions of times by the business end of a valve stem. Hummm…

Silva and Reggie show me the basics of valve removal.

Silva and Reggie instantly got it figured. Apparently, the engine builder had gone about setting lash in this motor using a method that none of us had heard of. Essentially, he dropped in stock lifters and then made hardened caps to set up the lash for each valve. Once these caps were measured and lash was figured, each was brazed onto the tops of their respective lifter.

The lifter and it's cap... Crazy, no?

Amazingly, this cap had broken loose and rather than getting lost somewhere in the motor (and tearing up god knows what), it harmlessly fell in the valley and stayed there.

To be honest, my initial thought was that the engine builder was off his rocker. And continuing with honesty, I still don’t believe this is a good way to go about a flathead valvetrain. However, a little more research over the weekend netted an article written by Barney Navarro for Car Craft in 1956. The topic? Setting lash by brazing caps onto non-adjustable stockers. Barney did it for an ultra-light valvetrain in a motor set up to race.

My ‘39, however, isn’t a race car. It’s a daily driver and I rely on it day-in and day-out to get me to and from work. Considering that, I much prefer a more proven valvetrain assembly and will be throwing in adjustable lifters as soon as I get a chance. Until then, however, we decided to tig the cap back onto the lifter and get the car back on the road. After all, there was no way to get a set of adjustables delivered by Monday and I had to get to work on Tuesday.

Thanks to my good pals (Silva, Blake, & Reggie), I was able to drive the car this morning. It’s pouring down rain, but I didn’t hear any taps… I’m back in the game.

My main man... Don't laugh at the diaper or he'll kick you in the teeth.

Special thanks to Blake for the excellent camera work!

This is part one… I’m on the look out for the December, 1951 issue of Motorsport and just as soon as I find it, I will run part two.

Enjoy:

The whole set up is to get a glimpse back through the development of the automobile and explain the safety additions added over time. I find it amusing how they leave out seat belts and padded dashes, which were items well known to lessen injuries by the mid 50s. Ironically, the automobile manufacturers were reluctant to put seat belts in cars because they feared the message to the public would be that cars were unsafe!

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Next round, it’s decided, you are going for a beer. He can’t screw that up.

And at least you can count on the other consistencies in life. Consistencies like the annual TJJ Garage Sale. It’s on…

Buy left over event shirts from the H.A.M.B. Drags, a killer “generic” drags shirt, hats, stickers, or even issue 7 of Church Magazine. What are you waiting for? GO NOW!

On a side note, the cartoon was a John Sutherland production, who was known for his educational short films and propaganda with animation, many of them with a clear anti-communist message. They come across pretty funny nowadays.

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I’ve now driven the ‘39 every day since December 5, 2009 – a total of almost 10,000 miles. And you know what? It’s been just as romantic as I had hoped it would be.

It’s somewhat popular to tout the inefficiencies of bias ply tires. Mine have been a joy to ride on daily.

Some folks claim that Flathead Fords require too much maintenance to power a daily driven car. Mine has been flawless (Ed: keep reading) since December – The only maintenance being oil changes every 500 miles.

I know a ton of folks that look down at early top loader trannies and search out modern T5’s to ease their experience. My top loader makes my driving experience. I love the feel and the sound. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I guess the point to this entire rant is one more of self motivation. See, I never want to be one of those guys that writes in glowing form and ignores the reality of life – the bad shit. And I’ve had my first real setback with the ‘39. This post was written to motivate myself… to remind myself that I’ve been doing this and can continue to do so. Dammit.

Last Friday I pulled up to a stoplight half way between my home and my office only to be greeted by a pretty nasty tick coming from the flathead. I revved and the tick revved with me. It sounded like a valve.

Now, to most of you fellas adjusting the valves on a flathead is no big deal. To me, it is… See, I’ve never done it before. It’s the unknown. It’s scary. Mostly, because this is the car that I rely on to get me from A to B everyday. I don’t have time to fart around for a week while I think about the best way to tackle this. I can’t afford to miss work. This is life – not a hobby. And somehow, when an old car becomes life it becomes all the more special to ya.

I can do this.

In any case, I’m driving the Tardel/Cochran Coupe this week. Silva is gonna guide me through the valves this weekend. Reggie might even jump in as well. I will update you with all the gory details next week.

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The stance. To me, this is the part that takes some sophistication. Many fellas give in to the urge to get a car as low as possible and then call it done.

“It’s slammed,” the say. “I got it right.”

The early custom isn’t slammed. Instead, it’s subtly massaged to get a nose high attitude while keeping the front wheels carefully centered in the wheel well and the rears hinting around at kissing the lip. It’s a ballet of restraint that was born out of necessity. Most of the early custom Fords that I have studied feature a reversed-eye spring up front and the same out back with the addition of longer shackles. That’s it… That’s all it takes.

The silhouette. To me, this one isn’t as defined as the stance but is still every bit as important. Ever noticed how Harry Westergard’s cars look like motor boats creating an asphalt wake as they cruise down the boulevard? Well, I guess I haven’t seen too many cruising around, but I imagine it that way. To me, that’s the targeted silhouette. It’s grace and “bad mother fucker” all rolled into one testosterone laden package.

I dunno that my words can give my thoughts justice, but the conversation was had last night anyway. We all thought around about our favorite early custom… Westergard was mentioned, Emory came up, and so did a few others… There is no right or wrong answer.

Mine? Dean Batchelor sent me the above photo over a decade ago. It’s a ‘38 Ford owned by Bill Faris and built by Neal Emory and friends in the late 1940’s. With my fixation of the 1938 Ford offering, this one just sings to me. I could see the rear an inch lower, but I don’t know that anything else needs to be done. I’ve heard the car was Washington Blue. Mine would be black.

What’s your pick?

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“How can you aptly describe it? The barren land, the salt, the sun? The people, the camaraderie, the cars? You might not understand until you experience it. You MUST experience it.”

Music: Evenings- Friend – Lover
Excerpts from Pablo Neruda – Ode to Salt

“Many thanks to all those I met at Speed Week and allowed me to shoot beside them.”

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On Sunday morning, I was walking along the historic hot rod section of cars at Pebble, when I came across the So Cal Belly Tanker, now owned by historic hot rod collector Bruce Meyer. As I’m looking over all the original details of the famous racer, I look up to see Alex Xydias just hanging out modestly in the back ground. The man who actually piloted this tin can back in 1948 is there with the car. Bruce’s daughter got coaxed into the tanker as he and Pete Chapouris Jr. lowered the plexiglass over her. She’s obviously a little nervous to be put in this claustrophobic metal tube with a bunch of spectators watching her, but the deal is done and she’s a good sport about it. Bruce actually had to scoop and lift her entire body just to get her out of there. How did Alex do it???

Sometimes you realize your in the right place, in the right time. Just a little snapshot of hot rod history as three generations all crossed on a piece of lawn somewhere on the left coast on a cloudy Sunday morning.