Wastelands of Suburbia

Decisions Decisions...

2011-11-21T20:43:00.001-08:00

I've got junk in the trunk-as usual.

I have a great junkyard in my town-APS Recycling, off Route 80 in Stroudsburg, PA. Known for years as Katz's Scrap Yard, the latter is still the name most locals know it by. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Katz's, which is also located about two blocks from my late grandparents' former home. After Sunday dinners, it was always a treat to walk over to the junkyard and check out all the 'cool' junk, as I saw it. Of course my lifelong love of junk has been previously addressed (and, quite frankly is the reason for posting) in this blog, so this will come as no surprise to most regular readers (ARE there regular readers?)

In the past two years I've made a lot of new friends with my movie project. One of them is Jeff, my FX guy, a fellow traveler who likes junk and scrap as much as I do. It's always nice to find someone else like you, that everyone else would call 'crazy', if only to know that it's not just you. Jeff and I cash in some scrap now and then, and with scrap prices what they are right now, we have made a little walkin' around money in doing so, as well as found some pretty cool shit in the junkyard.

Last weekend, I was taking my usual walk around and I found the little gem in the above photo-motorcycles and power toys are kept in their own section, as they are available for re-sale. The toys are usually pretty picked over, however, and this little guy sat pretty much as it sits here in the bed of my truck-on its side-except in the dirt. At first I didn't pay it much mind, other than to make note of how sad it looked sitting there, and how it had, at one time, probably made some little guy or gal pretty freakin' happy.

What I also took a mental note of was that I had not remembered Arctic Cat making mini-bikes. Usually something like this is cause for me to yell internally "TO THE SMARTPHONE!!!" and to look up more info. But I was a bit off my game that day, and was honestly looking at some pallet racking for my basement, so I filed the little mini-bike idea away, and assumed quite fairly that someone else would snag it in no time.

Later that day, I sat down at the computer to do my usual Facebook check and the like, and entered 'Arctic Cat Mini-bike" in the search bar. About twenty minutes later I had found that Arctic Cat had not only made mini-bikes for a few years in the late 60s through the early 70s, but that the series this particular model (at this point, presumed to be a 1972 Prowler) came from was in relatively low numbers and sought after by collectors. A subsequent search of Ebay yielded examples in similar condition to my own, going for anywhere from $300 (in the condition the one above is currently) to $1500 or more restored. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was worth a trip back to the junkyard to see if the little Cat was still available.

What it should look like-it doesn't-but in ways you aren't thinking of just yet. Note the infinitely awesome trademark Arctic Cat simulated leopard skin vinyl seat.

I headed back Monday after work nervous-I knew the bike was worth something-maybe someone else had known too, just hours after me, and had snagged it? My palms were sweating as I signed in at the office. I quickly (yet calmly, so as not to attract attention) walked over to the power equipment, to find, to my relief and delight, that the bike indeed still lay there in the dirt. Calmly I walked it over, on the back tire only, to the scales. An item like this at APS is re-sold for a markup over scrap weight-so I was only going to pay roughly double of what someone else was paid to drop it off-while dropping off scrap is profitable, buying it in forms such as this is not cost-prohibitive. At 95 pounds, I was going to be laying out $20.14 for the bike! I quickly paid and tossed the bike into the position in my truck you see in the photo. I took it home and promptly put it in my garage to get a better look under the lights.

The bike has a 47cc Sachs "Saxonette" two-stroke engine-not unlike a large chainsaw. This means several things-first, that the thing is probably loud as German Nazi buzzbombs, second, that it probably rips turf like it ain't no thang, and third, it's probably fun as Hell as a result of the first two things.

A few problems were obvious from the start-while the bike is largely complete, it is missing the pull-start mechanism, and the cylinder is frozen. I've had good luck in the past with freeing up cylinders, so I figured, at minimum, if I could free it up, it would be worth more when I sold the little rusted hulk. Ebay also seemed to have a fair amount of parts, despite the relative rarity of the bikes. Today this particular market is saturated with low-quality Chinese imported models. The Cat was, in its time, no doubt made in American of all-American components. The mini-bikes of today will not likely hold the value this bike does today, forty years from now. They will, no doubt, sadly been long since melted down into new crap we don't need sometime before that.

Here's where the problem started. I sat and stared at the little bike, thinking about all the good times someone had had on it, and the charm that it must surely still hold as a result-my father, a toy truck collector, will not buy any new-in-box toys for this reason-he believes that an item played with and enjoyed possesses a certain mojo nothing pristine could ever hope to hold. I thought of my girlfriend's son, Christopher, just 11 and reaching a point where something like this would surely capture his interest. I got looking around my shop at all the tools I rarely get to use-my sandblast cabinet, powdercoating setup, electrolytic rust remover,etc. I know how to anodize, re-line motorcycle gas tanks, and can loosen, disassemble, clean and reassemble just about anything. Against the urging of Jeff and others, I decided to try my hand at restoring the bike. At worst, I figured it would be in that much better shape to sell if I gave up halfway through and had to liquidate. But I don't want to think about that right now.

Wastelands of Suburbia: OH YEAH!!!!

2011-04-02T07:29:00.000-07:00

Wastelands of Suburbia: OH YEAH!!!!

OH YEAH!!!!

2011-04-02T07:15:00.000-07:00

My favorite rite of Spring is here-my first visit to the Blue Ridge Flea Market! Today was a bit slow, vendors shaking the sleepers from their eyes and slowly setting up. I have a pretty solid list of what I'm looking for this year, which includes:

Mini bike (For my GF's ten year-old son Chris, he of the blue custom toolbox)

Electric Trolling motor-for converting to gas via a weedwacker motor-I already have THIS:

Weedwacker-see above

Extra wrenches, etc. for my truck toolbox

And the list goes on.....if you like real flea markets and not knockoffs and bootleg crap, this one is great!

There-he fixed it.

2011-03-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

My co-worker's genius is evident in his careful re-purposing of a vintage doorknob as a handle for his truck cap. It's beautiful.

What. The Hell.

2010-12-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

So I just realized it's been a year and two months since my last post-and you may be asking yourself, 'hey, Asshole, where ya been?" Fair enough question-one could assume that, like with the average blogger, life kinda happened, the kids, the wife, etc...however, I have one lame excuse and one good one. First, the lame:

First off, Facebook happened-curse you Facebook, and your nearly instant gratification after posting....curse the adoration of hundreds as every witty thing that comes out of one's mouth is quickly 'liked'. However, it has put me in touch with some very talented people, which leads me to Excuse #2:

At age 40, I decided to fulfill a lifelong dream of making my own horror film. This has been a joyous and frustrating odyssey, and is far from over. I'd have blogged on this, but man oh man does it keep you BUSY. The rundown and progress of things is well documented here and here.

With any luck, the post-production schedule will allow me to post more frequently-that's all for now, hope I didn't lose anyone.

Happy Birthday.

2009-09-08T18:52:00.000-07:00

So Dr. Girlfriend's little guy, Chris, had a birthday this week, and rather than go with the typical Super Mario Brothers pi offering, I figured I would get him his first toolbox and set of tools. After an hour and close to a hundred bucks at Harbor Freight, he had a pretty impressive set of starter tools, that, if forgotten, lost, stolen, or broken, would, in the end, just have been Harbor Freight tools. We are slowly going through everything to learn what does what.

With all that stuff, you need a decent toolbox. I was initially just going to get him your basic plastic Stanley (Or similar) box, then I thought about it and asked "What would I want?" The answer was metal. I managed to scrounge up this vintage blue hammertone toolbox at my folk's house. It had been my grandmother's for craft stuff, so it was not only a nice solid box but a nice solid heirloom. So I cleaned up the outer finish with just a wee bit of Minwax Furniture Refinisher and #0000 steel wool to take off the paint spatter and leave just the original hammertone paint. I then hit it with some Meguiar's Cleaner Wax and my yard sale buffer. Brought the shine back quite nicely if I say so m'seff. Finally, I topped it off with a custom set of decals with his name-you can pick ones up like this off Ebay, they are two-layer, but come on one transfer film like any other die or laser cut decals. For about eight bucks, you can really make something pop with personalization.

The toolbox went over like no one's business-we are carefully choosing our first project now. Maybe a birdhouse?

PLUM CRAZY.

2009-06-24T20:44:00.001-07:00

(Imagine, if you will, a time when a purple car was feared on the road.)

OK, so things have been a bit car and bike-heavy lately. My apologies to those looking for the little kitschies of the past, they come in dribs and drabs. I've been working on various projects and I'm just getting around to posting these shots from a few weeks ago. While at the lovely Dr. Girlfriend's lair, we caught a small car show, and I saw a few Mopars. My friend b (aka brian) is a bit of a Mopar nut so I never hesitate to hook him up with a few shots of my finds. I saw this squadron of Road Runners and GTXs-the one to the left is tan, the right blue, and of course this Plum Crazy purple in the leader's position. The over the top colors of the late late 60s and early 70s Mopars were the pinnacle of craziness at the time, and no fly yellow Ford Splash or Chevy SSR is ever going to be able to do a thing about it.

(and....in blue)

I feel like I'm phoning this one in, but it's late-more later.

Days Of Thunder Past...

2009-06-17T11:27:00.000-07:00

(The size of this post really does not give my new camera's resolution justice-click the photo for a better look)

As a resident of the Pocono Mountains, I love when race weekend comes to the famed Tri-Oval at Pocono Raceway-the hysteria is palpable as you see car haulers, RVs, vendors, and thousands of race fans pour into town for three days of speed,sun and beer. I'm not as much a NASCAR fan as I once was, but I had to snap a picture of Jimmy Spencer's Heinz 57 Pontiac Grand Prix, circa approximately 1990. The Friday's logo is not period perfect, but considering it sits in front of a Friday's in Wilkes-Barre, about twenty minutes from the track, I'll let it slide, as it's obviously for promotional purposes. While I was certainly not a pre-teen in 1990, I did enjoy building the Monogram model kit of this car:

(Of course the driver of the car at the time was Hut Stricklin, seen molded in plastic at bottom right. Jimmy would have been too expensive to cast even in plastic, given his size in 1990.)
NASCAR has jumped the shark for me-the fancy graphics on TV and the WWE-ness of it turns me away. I like the old days when it was grittier and no one knew much about it north of the Mason Dixon line. But I'm halfway to Old Fart now, so what do you expect?

The Sweet, Crunchy Joy of Recognition.

2009-05-02T17:04:00.001-07:00

Whilst cruising through Berwick, PA with the beautiful Dr. Girlfriend recently, I began to react to a landmark with familiarity....this was odd, you see, because I had never been down this particular street before in my life....the small car lot sales office above is what I saw....

For the life of me, I could not remember at first where I had seen it, but it soon came to me-it is a vintage Shell station-you see, in a previous life I was a gas jockey, and quickly became interested in the various architectures of different oil companies' stations..This small Shell dates back to the 1930s if I am not mistaken. Here's a stock photo of one:

(This photo is probably originally from company literature...it has appeared in various books I have read and owned about gas stations, so I can't really properly credit it.)

One of the tactics used in the early days of gas stations was the 'homey' design of stations like the one you see here-the idea was, if a person felt as if they were going to someone's home, they would be more comfortable with pulling in for gas. As more women began driving during and after WWII, this and other methods were employed to get their business. Texaco's "Registered" restrooms was one such method-a company inspector would make rounds to franchises and check the restrooms for cleanliness, giving them their seal of approval. Texaco then used this in their ad campaigns, with the slogan "Something a Lady Appreciates". The signs also appeared outside the station restrooms:

Sometime later, the restrooms became "certified"-it is likely the certification was merely with Texaco, not unlike the "registration" before it... But "certification" sure sounds official enough when you are needing to badly take a dump and are worried about pubic crabs being able to pole-vault out of an unfamiliar john via tossed out matches floating in the water. For you, the travelling shitter, this was surely a relieving sight:

(Aahhhhh....no chance of unwanted pregnancy at THIS unfamiliar gas station! It's CERTIFIED!)

Speaking of Texaco, on another side street we spotted THIS used car lot, which has the giveaway green and white porcelain enameled exterior that could only come from the Sign of The Star:

I've been poking around for a picture of a 'corner' design Texaco Station like this one, in original Texaco livery-if anyone sees one, let me know, I want to post it for comparison.

The Ultimate in Luxury, To Be Sure?

2009-04-28T04:50:00.001-07:00

Perhaps circa 1969...Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Tenny Town Motel, Route 11, outside Bloomsburg, PA. This sign has surely remained unchanged as long as I have been alive, save for maybe a few repairs over the decades. The candle is no doubt part of a trend I have noticed in marketing of motels of this era-the notion of being available even late-the defunct Lamplighter chain of hotels with their name also hint at this trend, and of course most recently the Motel 6 slogan of "we'll leave the light on for ya" hearkens back to this folksy trend from a time when the guy behind the desk was probably on the deed as well. My apologies for shooting in the sun-Dr. Girlfriend and I were stopped momentarily, and since by sheer sake of taking pictures Homeland Security now labels you a terrorist, I had to work quick. I did get this nice closeup however, in better light:

(COLOR TV! By RCA no less! I want that little piece of vacu-formed goodness so bad it hurts-if this place ever closes down, I am sooo watching the roll-off for that thing.)

A Sad Passage of Time, and Hope for One Possible Future.

2009-04-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

(Beauty and Sadness....all at once-a slice of life, a look at a simpler time.)

Take a look at the above picture. Look at the twinkling chrome of a new motorcycle on a glorious late spring day. Look at a bike that has yet to see Reagan getting shot, Yuppies, or the fall of the Berlin Wall. Breathe deep and note the mind goes to fresh cut grass, the faint whiff of gasoline, the unmistakably fresh smell of May. Smile at styling trends like sissy bars and aftermarket fairings, that have yet to become passe' or ridiculous with the rolling of the years and fleeting and fickle tastes of the Human Race. Revel in the nostalgia of this literal snapshot of time each and every time you see an old Honda CB750. Like this one:

(Reality-always more ugly, more painful to look at-the realization of One's Own Mortality in the form of a rusted hunk of metal and rubber and fiberglass.)

The same bike-the VERY same bike-just this month. The owner was nice enough to provide 'before' and 'after' pics to potential Craigslist buyers, and Jon was nice enough to provide them to me, for my endless contemplation and full range of emotions.

What stories could it now tell? How many miles? How many riders, how many passengers on how many of those countless spring and summer days? How many tires, fill ups, rest stops, toll booths, roadside hot dogs, wrong turns, speeding tickets, smiles? How many regretted and missed rides due to inclement weather, prior commitments, kids, soccer games, communions, graduations? How many times hearing oneself utter the phrase "I gotta get that thing running again"? How many things placed on the seat for storage, with the knowledge that the bike was not going anywhere any time soon? How many tears shed at the sight of this forgotten piece of Japanese, American and personal history? How many regrets?

I implore any and all with the notion, tools and means to restore an old bike. Resurrect it. Like Lazarus, make it live-Rise and Ride. Scrape knuckles. Make dirty Levi's. Stain driveways and garage floors. Connect or reconnect with your kids by working on it together-Leave it for a new generation, with new stories to tell. Relive your OWN childhood, or start a new one-screw the notion of Midlife Crisis. LIVE. RIDE.

These bikes are still plentiful, cheap and available, as are parts and advice. Restoration can be as cheap or expensive as you choose, with credit going to the riders, the Road Dogs, the Rats, the ones that are out there on Saturdays or getting you to work on time no matter how they look-the frowns go to the primadonnas who park them in concours condition on engineered wood living room floors, or suspended from ceilings, sneering to themselves and all who will listen for the sake of "The Cycle as Art".

The nods of approval from those in Mini vans and SUVs with LCD screens for the kids, and from those who have gone, singly tracking, down this road before you, are free. The knowledge gained from the guy who Had One of Those Way Back When, that you meet at the auto parts store or gas station cannot be put in terms of dollars and cents.

The Internet Age leaves us with myriad resources and scores of others who have gone before us. It was not until I realized I had legions of enthusiasts with the patience of saints behind me, incapable and above flaming me as a 'noob', that I would come to the conclusion that I too could restore a vintage bike. It was not until I would meet a guy two hours away with nothing else in common with me but a free Saturday afternoon and a similarly-equipped, thirty year-old hunk of steel (in better shape than mine), that I would know that Brotherhood could exist outside ones family. It was not until that guy would be willing to ride that same two hours to help me rebuild carbs for the first time, that my faith in humanity would be restored. Life has begun again, and hope springs as eternal as a singular May day that seems like a million years ago.

Finally. And still NOT FOR SALE!

2009-04-14T11:36:00.001-07:00

(Yep, still NOT FOR SALE (sign sits on dash, can't you read?) is this crumbling '57 Chevy BelAir 2-door Hartop. Makes you wonder what the dude is clinging to. I didn't ask.)

After much blogging about it in the past, I finally had the chance, WITH the camera in the car, to snap a pic of the Famed '57 before the ogre came out to get me. This car has sat here for no less than THIRTY YEARS that I know of for sure, and shows no signs of moving any time soon. Sad.

Bus of The Living Dead.

2009-04-14T11:17:00.001-07:00

(From the right angle with some careful cropping, this chopped-up bus appears to be rising from the grave. Rte. 611 South, North of Martins Creek, PA.)

Moon and Space Culture.

2009-04-14T06:12:00.000-07:00

(Spotted on the roof of a small recycling center in Wilkes-Barre, PA, this "capsule", most likely cobbled together from recycled junk, looks to be spaceworthy and ready for flight.)

This little unit reminds me of the Andy Griffith TV Show Salvage from 1979:

(Check out the pre "Silver Spoons" Joel Higgins as the washed-up astronaut!)

(This home-built capsule has sat behind a gas station outside Martins Creek, PA for as long as I can remember. It has been slid back a bit, but at one time I think it was there to attract business-I also think at one time a space-suited, helmeted mannequin sat inside. Someone spent some time on this. Check out what appeared to be an authentic Strategic Air Command decal on the side.)

John F. Kennedy's promise to put the US on the moon was a watershed event for the nation, still in the midst of the Cold War. While the true motive remains a matter of conjecture, in the 1960s, America fell in love with Space Culture. The idea of the office of the future being in outer space appealed to more than one youngster, and more than one NASA astronaut or specialist of today can trace his decision to head for the stars back to those original Gemini and Apollo missions. As the idea of space travel began to settle in the nation's psyche, it appeared in art, architecture, advertising and the like.

(Why build a rocket when you can just buy one from US Surplus? This Titan rocket is near Cordell, GA)

(What better place to have a Rocket Lounge, than outside Alamogordo, New Mexico? Sadly, the idea only WAS a good one-the Rocket Lounge is now closed.)

(Space Culture is not exclusive to the US-here, an abandoned gas station in France sports a fancy rocket with steel contrail-talk about things I love! Abandoned places, gas stations....still, I ain't goin' to France)

(Williamcreek, Australia. What makes me grin at this is the notion that this stuff probably actually fell from space and landed here.)

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the camera.....

2009-04-06T10:06:00.000-07:00

We had a few other pics on the camera from our trip-there was probably more we should have shot-Berwick and the surrounding area are what The Wastelands used to be, only 30 years ago:

(I'm a sucker for a nice airbrushed vintage van. This one sat languishing in the lot of a Sunoco station in Berwick, on the way to pick up the new/old Zook. Much of my generation's beginnings are found in the once sweaty, foggy interiors of vans like this. How could you look at this and not think of the beach?)

(Since 1979 and Three Mile Island, there is nothing more ominous to a Pennsylvanian than nuclear plants and their cooling towers. The Berwick Nuclear Power Plant, owned by PPL Utilities, looms in the distance. Photo by Jon.)

(Of course, Jon is no slouch when it comes to bike customization. A resurrected Speed Triple, given the Hooligan treatment by Jon, with big thanks going to our friend Wee Paul for his paint work. Photo Jon.)

Another Acquisition.

2009-04-03T16:09:00.001-07:00

(Like any good vintage bike, my new Zook has already marked it's territory, as witnessed by a small puddle of gas due to a leaky and incongruent fuel filter. Seen at about 5pm off the front wheel is another drip-this time of fork oil-apparently, like the recently arrested on "Cops", the bike took umbrage at being bound so tightly on the ride home. Swept back handlebars were to no doubt accomodate the vintage fairing, and have to go as first order of business.)

Folks, feast your eyes-the latest in my long and storied history of low-cost motorcycle acquisitions. For a mere $395, I picked up this lovely 1979 Suzuki GS850G about an hour away in Berwick, PA. Of course, one must factor in the gasoline and time spent (I also enlisted the help of my good friend Jon to make the move, utilizing his van and tie downs-which will fairly and no doubt illicit a return favor), plus the cost of title transfer, etc. But it was a fun day, and surprises abound.

For example, we really weren't expecting the thing to start, but the previous owner (who had an impressive shop, boasting no less than five vintage Harleys in various stages of restoration and/or customization) was able to get it to fire with a bit of starting fluid. The bike had been posted on Craigslist, and the relatively small pic betrayed the garage-kept condition she was in. Mild oxidation on both the steel and aluminum was typical of a bike that had sat inside, but nothing compared to the outright rot I have seen on some of my finds in the past. With right around 9500 miles that were obviously well maintained ones, this baby was an outright steal IMHO. Also, the Zook came with a vintage 70's-style touring fairing. While laughable to some (myself included, if only on the surface), these are still highly desired by some riders (as they ain't makin' any more), and nice examples are often sufficient to fund the cost of a low-buck restoration-such as this one. I was going to completely 'rat' this bike out-that is, a complete treatment of flat hi-temp stove black from pretty much stem to stern, as well as chopping off all the unnecessary bits:

("Looks uncomfortable" Jon said, as I suggested this treatment prior to us actually seeing how nice the Zook was. From a few years back at a show, this one looks like it would be at home in the upcoming film Terminator: Salvation-actually being ridden by a Terminator, who, once the flesh is burned off, has no real ass to speak of nor get bruised anyway.)

However, the condition being better than expected, I think I am going to do a serious cleaning, wrap and paint the exhaust, remove the rust from the shocks, etc, and keep it as a mild resto-mod type deal. As usual stay tuned-there will most likely be a few projects needing finishing first, but the bike doesn't need too much, so I'll get it running and then the full resto will no doubt take place in the off-season.

History Out-Steampunks Steampunk!

2009-02-07T16:08:00.000-08:00

(The 1932 Helicron. Someone fetch me my duster and goggles!)

This rare (I'd call one in existence rare) 1932 Helicron prop-powered car does not run on steam, but is still Dystopian enough to be at home in the mythical world of Transatlantic dirigible travel and Babbage Difference Engines. Pushed into a barn in the late 30s, it appears to be only partially restored (note condition of wood). I don't know much more about it, but I can't resist blogging about a good barn find. It is owned by the Lane Motor Museum in Nashville. Anyone wanting more pics email me.

For car guys, the Barn Find (a pristine or unmolested car, in original condition, parked and forgotten in a barn or garage for decades and then discovered) is the Holy Grail of automotive existence. I have discussed the topic in previous posts, as it is a favorite In the 1980s, Porsche had a print ad that described one man's dream of finding a vintage Speedster in a barn for $500 (damned if I can find a copy-anyone who can, let me know!) Recently, Life imitated Art when this Speedster was found and sold from a Mississippi barn:

(If a barn find is a car nut's dream, a 1954 Porsche Speedster with likely racing pedigree is a wet dream. Sale price on Ebay was $24,600.)

Without documentation it's hard to say if this car actually raced or was simply painted to look the part-it did, however, have a roll cage installed, which suggests the previous owner was at least concerned about his safety. The same cannot be said for, say, James Dean, who met his end in a slightly tinier Porsche (the 550 Spyder), a mere two years after this find rolled off the assembly line:

(note lack of safety cage of any kind-if I'm correct, the Dean Porsche was not equipped with seat belts either. Rumor has it the Dean Car was cursed and was killing folks long after Dean's death in 1955.)

My ADD has gotten the best of me-sorry. Suffice to say the Helicron is a sweet find, and not your usual Superbird rotting in some old lady's backyard

Tool Academy...

2009-01-06T16:06:00.000-08:00

(Kobalt's flagship stainless steel tool chest, available complete with stereo. Price: $1398 at my local Lowe's. Ouch.)

I can probably say with all certainty that I’ve always wanted a mechanic’s tool chest. Even as a kid, I looked at the shiny red boxes at Sears, taller than I was, and thought of all the stuff I could stow in there-the coins, the shiny rocks, the pocket knives, and yes, the tools-all of it would find a home in the seemingly endless array of drawers that would somehow always be cooler than my painted blue dresser. My own father’s tool box was a humble Craftsman with a carry handle on the top, and it pretty much contained every tool he owned that would fit inside. My neighbor’s father, however, was a different story.

My neighbor growing up, whom I’ll call Link (not his real name, “Link” is taken from my dad calling him The Missing Link growing up-due to his largely simian features and behavior) had a tool chest of his own at an early age. Link’s father was a mechanic of sorts-he had fixed Jeeps and tanks in Germany in the Army in the mid-60s, and always had something in his garage with the hood up. He was famous for taking an absolute piece of crap car and not only making it run like a top, but for putting a more than passable coat of paint on it as well. Link’s Dad dropped a replacement engine in my ’82 Volkswagen Rabbit after I performed a distance test with a hot engine and no coolant (Rabbit+Suburban Junkyard=FAIL). Though he had never worked on one, he only asked for the factory Bentley manual (which I had been looking for an excuse to buy anyway at the time), and $100-though that figure did grow to $125 in the end-still a steal, especially since my motor had run me less than $400. The install was flawless.

Link’s Dad was by no means a rich man, so his workshop was an extension of that-much of his shelving was from scrap wood for the actual shelves, and metal formed into brackets. His hardware and fasteners hung in old jars, their lids nailed to a board and suspended from the low rafters of his basement. I always thought they looked like specimens in a weird Hardware Museum, or some do-it-yourself wing of the Smithsonian. In the dark crannies and corners, it was obvious that many of the tools that dwelled there were hand made or repaired by the look of the welds.

(Link's Old man may have had a tool chest like this-the details are lost to memory-I just know it was freakin' cool)

Most importantly, however, was the beaten red tool chest he had as the center of his Tool Universe-I don’t even remember the manufacturer, though something tells me it was probably a Craftsman-Link’s dad would most likely have been unable to afford little else at the time. I remember looking at it as he worked, the endless supply of tools that seemed to come out as he needed them, never shy of what he needed. Even though I was none too handy as a kid, I knew I wanted that level of proficiency with tools. Sadly, my experience consisted of disassembly and then partial reassembly, which would eventually lead to my restricted access to tools (Thanks, Dad.). It would not be until much later that I would begin to accumulate my own set of tools, and, eventually, the various means of storing them. Still, I do not have the tool chest of my dreams.

(You simply cannot work on a car like this, and not have a tool chest like this.)

There is, of course, a reason or two for this. The main reason is that professional tool chests are insanely expensive. The reason for this is the same reason business phone service is insanely expensive-the provider knows you are making money, and prices their product accordingly. Manufacturers like Mac, Snap-On or Matco can talk all they want, but the truth is there is no need for anyone to have $12,000 toolbox (this is without tools, mind you), professional mechanic or not. One need only look in the garages of their friends and neighbors to see the various, garage-expedient methods of tool storage that those twin mothers of invention, Necessity and Poverty, have spawned over the years.

(True Ingenuity. This Mexican speed shop owner has taken a truck utility body, cleaved it in half, and mounted the sides on the walls of his garage (note wheel arches at bottom). The Bardahl Racing color scheme is a great touch. Brilliant in its simplicity.)

(A shot of the garage of fellow blogger and hopeless collector Mister Jalopy. Check him out-I want to go to this garage when I die. Maybe even before.)

(A particularly gross Matco in yellow. Price was $7200. It better have had tools in it.)

The second reason is the syndrome known as the Endowment Effect, that makes us feel anything we own has greater value than the same item owned by others, for no other reason than that it is ours. I personally saw this play out in my car selling days, when truck owners felt their trades commanded far greater value than what any color pricing book had to say. Sufferers of this syndrome are often easy to spot-they can be seen countless times on places like Craigslist, asking fifty dollars less than they paid for a five year-old item that originally cost $2000-thinking they are gracing someone with not only their precious hand-me-downs, but at a gracious discount!!

Sufferers of the Endowment Effect are rampant in the used tool chest market-mechanics, in hock up to their eyeballs and looking to recoup lost funds, place their eighteen month-old tool set up for just a hair less than the Tool Truck Guy sold it (or more often financed it) for. They believe that some more stupid individual will feel he’s getting a fire sale price because he’s going out of business, and take absolutely no time to check values on the Interwebs to see if he’s getting ripped off.

Before this turns into one of my trademark rants, suffice to say an inexpensive yet decent tool chest is hard to find. Sure, Craftsman always has them on sale, but you never seem to have the cash for exactly what you want when they are in the process of marking it down. I have seen killer deals like the Matco box you see here, but again, they always seem to come at the wrong time. Add to that the fact that a killer deal on an orange box always seems to coincide with a deal on a green one-you can never get lucky on a matching set.

(I missed one of these on Craigslist for a paltry $300! Although, in retrospect, I'm kinda glad I did. Mac S&S limited edition.)

It is because of this that I have decided to (ever so slightly) throw caution to the wind and jump at the first chest I find regardless of color that meets my requirements for features (low and wide, as one higher than my eyeballs makes no sense to me at all at Six-Foot-Two.) I will then strip or sand each box down and paint it to my own personal preference. Each box to come after will receive the same colors and treatments. There is no work going on in my garage shop so violent I need to worry about Rustoleum Professional Formula getting nicked, and if it does, I can sand the spot and paint it-that’s the beauty of Rustoleum (is that their slogan?)

So, on to color. At the risk of sounding effeminate, I’m so over red-while my vintage tendencies would suggest I’d gravitate towards the Original Tool Chest Color, I want something different. Couple that with the fact that my workshop is gradually turning into silver pegboard walls and grey or black trim (undecided), the idea of steering my palette into the more sedate colors available seems prudent.

Originally I thought of black-however I think the color in my garage would resemble the Monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. It would be a matter of time til Brian or someone would bash me on the back of the head with my own wrench like some crazed ape.

Silver, or more aptly, stainless steel, is becoming very popular-however, like stainless appliances, they can be hard to keep clean-not conducive to a greasy-hands environment.

Green is cool, particularly the Kennedy Machine tool chest green, or similar shades. These scream vintage in a way Snap-On doesn't-less of a salt flat, '49 Mercury vintage and more of a Shopsmith, Electronics home study course vintage, if that makes sense-it probably doesn't. It does to me, however, and I guess that's all that matters.

(This is the toolbox your fastidious grandfather would not let you within a mile of when you were a kid. Inside, enough precision tools to build a belly tank lakester, or a rocket to Mars.)

I've forgone the garish hues offered (the teal blues, Kawasaki greens, Harley oranges, etc.)and, for the time being, have settled on a gray exterior with blue drawers. Both colors (smoke gray and safety or navy blue) are available from Rustoleum in the Professional formula. Think of the old Civil War Chess set and you'll get my idea:

On the Road To Coatesville.

2008-12-10T16:40:00.000-08:00

(A pretty rare variant of the Deuce and a Half with a bucket-most likely for commo work?)

On the way down to pick up the welder (about a 2 hr drive) I spotted these two army trucks. There has been more than one time In my life when I wanted one of these go anywhere, heavy as all Hell trucks to do some nasty job only a truck of this caliber could do. I dreamed of having one with a wrecker, pulling snotty rich kids out of ditches in their Mom's Range Rovers deep in the woods for cash.

(That's more like it. With this, all things are possible. You can barely see the commercial Holmes wheel lift attached to the back. Actually I think this one is a 5-ton and not a Deuce and a Half.)

I'm kind of a big deal now.

2008-12-10T16:16:00.000-08:00

So I posted my first instructable on how to make a gun case from an old army duffel bag:

How To Make A Pretty Nice lined Gun Case From An Old Army Dufflebag and Blanket! - More DIY How To Projects

If you have never been to instructables, and you have even an inkling of creative, independent spirit, I strongly recommend it-there are hundreds of step-by-step sets of directions with photos on how to do everything from recipes to welding up a recumbent bike for yourself. I felt my instructable represented a demographic that was lacking-home-made tactical gear. I'm sure it pissed the vegan souffle' crowd off, but it was necessary to wrest the DIY movement away from the hippies and back to it's Hamm's swilling, garage-dwelling, black and white TV on in the background roots-if only for a moment.

More Horse Trading.

2008-12-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

(Before. The new welder before I cleaned off the barn gook. I'll probably end up waxing it too-it's just how I am.)

My trading continues-I scored this sweet, nearly new Lincoln arc welder with 50 foot extension cord I can plug in my dryer outlet for power, two boxes of rods, a new mask, and hunting rights on a 75 acre apple farm. All for some, ahem, hunting gear that may or may not have included an ancient shotgun. I'd like to get this fired up and make a wheeled cart to lug it around-it's kind of a pain to carry it where you need it. Actually, that gives me an idea-more later.

Frustration, Exuberance, Frustration....

2008-12-09T17:44:00.000-08:00

(What looks like a sad little droid from the Sand Crawler scene in Star Wars is actually the latest acquisition, not to mention a straight up trade for my old truck, Warhorse.)

All good things must come to an end, but not as quickly as bad things should. After months of begging, pleading, cajoling and dropping my pants on the price, I decided to offer the War Horse up for trade on Craigslist. Amid offers of welders, mechanics tool chests, guns, pot, and one white Russian baby with blue eyes, I settled on the above dealie-a 1962 Economy "Jim Dandy" tractor. While this may seem like absolute craziness, hear me out.

First off, I needed a tractor with a plow to loan to Dad. Seems that his plow guy, a former classmate of mine and still referred to as "That Kid" by Dad (the "Kid" is 37 or so),is not able to reach the nooks and crannies of Dad's driveway to Dad's satisfaction. Mind you, Dad would never mention it to the Plow Guy-no. He, like all people who retire and take up complaining full time, chooses not to address a problem with the idea of solving it, but instead chooses to subject his progeny with tales of woe and nostalgic yarns of "the way it used to be". Apparently, it used to be that a fellow could hire a guy for like a quarter or something, and have him plow 50 acres of snow in ten minutes and not push your driveway gravel up into the grass while doing it. Also apparent is that those days are gone. I'm sure the Plow Guy (as we have not spoken or seen each other in some time), like most around here, has a monstrous diesel 3/4 ton crew-cab plow truck that can probably push a mountain but takes as much space as the USS Intrepid to turn around in. If it can't be done in three straight swipes, it can't be done. I'm sure this is the root of Dad's trouble. Hence the tractor trade.

Economy Tractors are tough little buggers-the Jim Dandy, along with its slightly bigger brother the Power King, are all gear driven-where most yard or garden tractors have a series of belts driving gearboxes or hydraulic motors, the Economy designers set it up so that their tractor had one belt driving the rear wheels off the engine. Some are also equipped with dual transmissions, a feature allowing one to gear down to a crawl, go take a whiz, come back and never have quit plowing or mowing.

The guy that had this before me had supposedly rebuilt most of the gearing and internals-unfortunately, the starter/generator was apparently not among the items reconditioned-after a few successful starts, the starter began to do little more than a faint rustling along with a rancid electrical smell. A rebuild is around $125, but the Yahoo! Power King group had more than adequate advice on how to get the old girl running. Turns out I can rope start, push start in third gear, and rig an old electric motor to start it up until I can complete the rebuild, and will simply have to deal with not being able to use my lights if the battery is not charging.

A happy little Jim Dandy similar to mine keeps an old Mustang company. I hope to get a hood for mine as well. Note large tractor features in such a small package.

As time goes by I'll chronicle the restoration of this little wonder.

HOTBOX II!

2008-10-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

(Another great photograph that, like last year, could be from any decade in the last three or four. Photo courtesy Stiv)

Some good ideas only occur once and then never again....however, oftentimes the very BEST ideas go on and on year after year. And so it is/was with our Hotwheels races, officially titled Hotbox from here forward. Last year on Labor Day Weekend my closest friends and I gathered for an event dripping in nostalgia-a full day of racing vintage and new Hotwheels cars on a monster "road course" to determine whose rod is the hottest, so to speak. Last year I had won after coming from the rear of the pack on a consolation round, and was looking to make it two years in a row.

(Under Construction. Daryl, Chad and Brian put their heads together, combined it with beer [see photo] and get the credit for designing this year's course-how many people can take credit for designing a race track? Few, that's how many. Photo Stiv.)

(Long Way Down. The finished product allowed, like last year, a long sprint to the finish-this helped equalize things for cars less nimble in the loops and turns, giving them a chance to catch up at the end. Caught for posterity are Dr. Girlfriend's feet, Brent's erect posture midsection-down, Marci mid-pose, an yet to be identified racer and Miss Shannon ruling the track. The addition of more kids this time around lended legitimacy to the event and made it less like Manchildfest '08)

This year, however, was not my year-the addition of a much wider field, and the relative wear and tear on last years winner, Twelve Lashes, left me finishing mid-pack. In the end, it would come down to Dewey Walck and Brian's kid Ian (since a puberty-induced growth spurt referred to as the Thin White Duke) in a heated battle with MATCHING Audi R8's. Ian would just squeak by for the win in a Battle of the Ages.

(The Return of the G. If Gerald had not already lived in the 'Burg, he would have received the price for longest distance traveled to the event-he had just rolled in from a full summer surfing in Cape Cod, no doubt with Vampire Weekend. Here Daryl appears to go for his Glock, which he inadvertently left at home.)

(Mischief. Every year we feel more like we are getting away with something-maybe it's the beer. Me, George, and G. Photo Stiv.)

(MC in the place to be-I was given honorary MC rights since I was the defending champion-I had every intent of coming off with some '84 LA Olympics space alien "spirit of world competition" crap, but the lack of a flying saucer dropping me off made me sound MORE like the paranoid NWO nut that I am. Photo still Stiv.)

Auf Wiedersehen Greta :-(

2008-06-09T11:54:00.000-07:00

(Big George calls the networks to inform the world that Greta is going away.)

Change is good. Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes you need a change of scenery. No phrase can provide me the comfort I need having to sadly sell my beloved Greta for some much needed cash. She was a great girl, and will be sorely missed in the driveway. I really can't talk now.

An Icon keeps it's appeal...

2008-05-29T18:42:00.000-07:00

(Many VWs have worn the "Herbie" Number 53-this, however, is the second car built for the original movie. Strong provenance. Pap's was this color, sans stripes, and was a '64, not a '63 like old Herb here.)

The Volkswagen Beetle. A veritable icon. While little can be said of the People's Car that has not already been said elsewhere, I'd like to at least throw my hat into the ring with some Beetle anecdotes of my own.

As a kid, things appeal to you that may never appeal again-but if you are lucky, they will, and their re-emergence will make you smile, keep you young and maybe save your very soul from ruin. One of those things for me is the many incarnations of the Beetle.

When I was a kid, my Pap had a '64 Beetle-he had seen and driven them during WWII in Germany and had been impressed with the simplicity and indestructability of the little car. When they came stateside, he eventually bought one. Though he would own many other cars in his lifetime, I am convinced the white Beetle was his favorite. I know for sure it was mine at the time.

See, to a kid, the sound of a Beetle is hard to distinguish from a race car. It's swoopy, bulbous features are the stuff of Saturday morning cartoons. I was fascinated with how the engine looked so much like our lawn mower. I loved the long running boards covered with black rubber. The spartan interior is nothing negative to a kid-it's all cool textures and smells and someone small has no trouble fitting in the rear seat.

(How do you make a rolling cartoon more appealing to a kid? Metal flake and offroad lights help. Especially if the metal flake is lime green, and the offroad lights are KCs. Looks like a rare right-drive Manx. My neighbor growing up had a similar design in brown metal flake, with lots of diamond-pleated naugahyde inside.)

One night, Pap came and picked us up somewhere-I have no idea where, it's lost to the memory of childhood. What I do remember was it was snowing like crazy. I distinctly remember huge flakes of snow committing suicide on the Beetle's flat windshield. I remember the steady buzz of the motor, and the sure-footedness of a goat as the Bug purred through the dark...we got home with ease.

(Ahhhh, kit cars-like a rubber nose and glasses with fuzzy mustache for a Beetle-anyone can be someone else for less than eight grand)

Pap's brother, my Great Uncle John, had also been introduced to the Beetle in the Great War. Uncle John had a gold Super Beetle he drove into the 80s-It had a crank out sunroof and black Wolfsburg Interior-I was mortified to learn he had DRIVEN it to the junkyard without asking anyone if they were interested in it. The spare held up the driver's seat, but I would not have cared-free is free, then and now.

Ultimately, I would own a VW bus-if only for a short time. My other uncle had owned one and taken it all over the country once-I guess I associated it with freedom. My friend G had a Bus camper that had a rare "turtle top" conversion. He was literally selling it to protect it from a flood-a series of storms in our area in the early 2000s left his house at the time submerged. I took the van, nicknamed Werner, for $600 at the time-a steal, but sadly, like many projects, it never panned out and I sold it to a guy who loved it far more than I did for a few bucks more. Hey, I had to make a profit.

Espresso VS Espresso

2008-05-27T14:45:00.000-07:00

I like to consider myself a bit of a trendsetter-I may be fooling myself, but more than one instance has proven it to be the case. In high school, I was the first guy in my class to discover The Cure. I enjoyed brewing my own beer, fine cigars, Netflix, and home theater with an actual movie screen long before anyone I knew. It's probably a case of foolish pride, but so what-I was first.

About 15 years ago I was first in my group to discover the gourmet coffees of the West Coast and their worldwide origins. I learned the difference between Cappucino, Espresso (I still cringe when someone adds an "X" in the pronunciation) and the Latte'. I relished my first taste of real Jamaican Blue Mountain and eagerly awaited the arrival of our first Starbucks.

At a yard sale at the time, I purchased the black Krups Espresso Maker you see on the right-at the time they were going for around 50 bucks so I considered it a steal for the five bucks I paid. I used it quite a bit, and transported it with me from apartment to apartment and made many a foofoo coffee drink to impress the ladies. Once, I opened it up to clean it before the pressure had been released, sending fine, powdered espresso all over my kitchen, leaving me with white raccoon eyes where my glasses had protected them from the blast.

We did not get our Starbucks til last year-although I go, the negative stigma of their globalization has made them passe' by most folks' standards. That, and the relatively uncultured nature of our populace cannot understand paying three dollars for "burnt" coffee (what they mistakenly call dark roasted blends). Recent budgetary concerns have led me back home to work on the pricy custom drinks I now find myself hooked on. I pulled out my trusty old Krups, only to find the all-crucial steam cap, that blocks water flow from the heating chamber, was missing. Fifteen years ago I'd have panicked, but the glory that is Internet led me to a supplier of dinky little hard to find coffee maker parts. For $7.65 I was back in business, still far less than the cost of a new machine. I was thrilled!

Within a week I had already misplaced the little bastard. I looked everywhere, and had written it off to my house guest, Karen (She, the Trader of Lucinda and Bringer of Donnie), helping out by emptying my dishwasher and perhaps putting it away somewhere less likely. When she said she had not seen it I began to get a little pissed.

Fortuitously, I discovered the white Krups unit you see on the left at the flea market in Saylorsburg. Complete with all the pieces and a MANUAL (never had it the first time!), it was only FIVE BUCKS! Again! I checked for the disk and sure enough it was there. I took the whole mess home and got ready to make more espresso. As I set them next to each other, I could not help but think of the old Mad Magazine "Spy VS Spy" series. I also noticed my original unit needed a cleaning, so I got to it, as I turned it over I noticed the steam cap stuck to the underside of the spout. Ah well, now I got a complete set of spare parts, albeit in white.

Junkyard HEAVEN on Earth!

2008-04-09T17:59:00.000-07:00

Above is a picture of Heaven. The Rusty Gates. Here Men can go to die happily, or to search for parts for their vehicles. Of course I'm referring to the original Harry's U-Pull-It, The originator of the "self-service" parts yard. I have spent two Saturday's here in as many months, painstakingly cajoling parts from various 87-91 Ford F-Series trucks to continue the repairs I've started on my 1991 F250, affectionately referred to as War Horse. More to follow.

Rolling Funeral Parlor.

2008-01-21T12:29:00.001-08:00

Part Munstermobile, Part 70's flocked wallpaper, Part Steampunk Scifi fantasy-meet the new interior roofline of my Buick, Marge. Sold to me by my dad who inherited it from my late grandmother's estate, her namesake was possessed of the typical sagging cloth headliner common in 80s General Motors vehicles. You generally see these cars easily going down the road-often secured with tacks, staples, screws, etc.(all of which are poor fixes by comparison), they generally flap violently in the breeze created by a rolled down driver's window (the air conditioning usually having given up the ghost the same year). The embarrassed driver slouches down, partially to hide his identity, partially to prevent getting softly bonked in the melon by flapping cloth.

After a few weeks of such silliness, I decided to fix it. Now mind you, in this post-Christmas financial climate, I'm not exactly rolling in the Benjamins. Couple that with the relatively ridiculous price of headliner material and the task was a bit daunting at this time of year. However, my infinite abilities and resourcefulness won out-I managed to find a nice, cheap piece of embossed velour in the form of a curtain panel. From there it was just loosening the surrounding trim, prepping the headliner panel and carefully gluing down the fabric. A few hours to dry, and the whole unit is trimmed of excess fabric and reinstalled. I would say total work time was probably less than an hour total. If you do this, make sure u mark all your screw holes that will soon be covered in fabric-I had a bit of trouble trying to line up the holes that my visors screwed into. Also get the headliner fabric as free of old glue and foam as possible-the fabric will be less likely to separate in the future.

Something almost anyone can do, and very satisfying results in my opinion.

Gearhead weekend...

2007-11-04T15:33:00.000-08:00

This weekend saw me, for the first time in months, blowing the dust and stink off myself and doing some mechanical work for a change-now, mind you, none of this was on my own projects, but productive nonetheless. First my best bud George needed a little help with his BMW 525i, Schultzie. Named for the John Banner Character in "Hogan's Heroes", He was a Craigslist find, with a rebuilt top end and just over 100k at time of purchase-essentially a new car under the hood. However, some enterprising rogue had, early in Schultzie's life, installed a security system-badly. This chop-job had left a hard to find short in the right side low-beam headlight. WIth state inspection looming, we set to work soldering the damaged wire back together and sealing it up with heat-shrink tubing.

Next up was my friend Karen's 2005 Jeep Liberty. Rolling into town to visit her mom, she had lost the spring load in her serpentine belt tensioner pulley. I was charged with locating the part, supplying the tools, and doing the repair. While it was a little harder than we thought (somewhere in '05 the minds at Jeep chose to change the tensioner unit to a larger pulley, making our belt suddenly too small at 5:30pm on a Sunday-it would require replacing new pulley with old on the new assembly), but we managed to finish before dinnertime today. Kudos to the guys at National Auto in Stroudsburg for being able to furnish an ordered part on a Sunday, after ordering it Saturday night around 7pm!! I will always call them first as a result of this little bit of miracle-working on their part.

I always make a point to do good work for friends-it pays for itself in the long run. When someone trusts you with their car work, they will generally trust you with anything. It also makes for a nice barter skill-I normally don't keep score that way, but everyone always seems to remember my helping out with a repair when it's time to buy a round at the pub.

Everything I have learned about cars has been through doing and asking questions. I am not what I would call "self taught"-I generally research everything I do first, and ask around to see how difficult a job is. While I am certainly not a mechanic, I am no slouch either. as I gain tools and knowledge, I work towards that end, however.

Double Top Secret Plan in the works....

2007-10-19T21:55:00.001-07:00

Without giving too much away, The Brain and I are in the process of planning a theme party-it will focus around a certain 80s male teen fantasy-oriented film (not porn) and will involve audience participation in the tradition of Rocky Horror. It will involve vodka, airsoft guns and beef jerky...that's really all I can say at this point.

Tiny junkyards for the spatially challenged.

2007-09-23T22:18:00.001-07:00

(a badly weathered '74 Ford sits in a miniature junkyard. Photo courtesy of Bugsy's Junkers website)

I've always been a fan of scale models. As a kid I loved to build them, and sometimes, destroy them via BB gun, Black Cat firecrackers, or by lighting them on fire in mock "accidents". My childhood achievement in model building was my '71 Hemi Cuda in Hemi Orange, which won not only Best Overall in my 7th grade Exploratory Program class, but took Fourth at the local West End Fair.

Recently I poked around online to see how the hobby has progressed over the last 25 years or so. I was both surprised and pleased to see a few builders taking steps towards what I would call "Ultra Realism"-that is, rather than turning out kit after kit in flawless, showroom-shine finishes, they chose to go in the opposite direction, and show the effects of time on plastic "sheetmetal". Borrowing some techniques from model railroaders, they weather and rust their kits to near disintegration. Some go as far as to build minature junkyards with piles of "wrecked" cars. Combine two things I love and you are bound to get a mention on my blog.

(No junkyard, mini or othewise, would be worth its salt without an old racer or two in the pile. Here, Bugsy has a Vintage Chevy Gasser awaiting restoration or, maybe [but hopefully not], the crusher. www.bugsysjunkers.com)

One Man Junkyards....

2007-09-23T21:10:00.001-07:00

(A nice selection of Mopars in The Elysian Fields I hope to go to when I die.)

A few miles down the road from my house, in nearby Portland, PA sits a travesty. A 1957 Chevrolet BelAir 2-door hardtop in red and white-the classic, quintessential, iconic Fifties car, sits, slowly rotting into the ground. Down to it's axles on disintegrated whitewalls, a crude, crumbling, hand painted sign says, through a cloudy windshield, "NOT FOR SALE". Countless Northeastern Pennsylvania and Northwestern New Jersey males have seen this grave injustice played out over the last nearly 40 years. Probably longer-as my Dad can attest to the fact it has sat there as long as he can remember. What possesses a person, presumably a car enthusiast (based on their taste in lawn decor), to entertain not even the highest offer on potential purchase of a seemingly (for now)useless vehicle? One might say, "why, you simple jackass, he's obviously going to restore it himself". OK, I'd buy that if he had started work like, uh, twenty years ago. When I was in high school, a much thinner, mullet-bearing, pimply version of the sexy Evil Genius I have become, The story was more than one Shop Kid had knocked on the door of the house, ignoring THE SIGN that should have told them better, and inquired about the car. Stories ranged from being chased by a shotgun-bearing codger off the property, to a sad story about a son killed in Vietnam, to a ranting lunatic smelling of feces and Beech-Nut chew. At least one rogue claimed it Stephen King's inspiration for "Christine" (which, in it's core principle at least, may have been true).

What possesses a person to, not only hoard such a precious piece of automotive history in disrepair, but to deny the enterprising enthusiast the right to do the same? One can understand packratting-GOD KNOWS I can. But, with the budding Boyd Coddingtons of the world running about waving handfuls of hundreds anymore, I can't imagine not being TEMPTED to let go of the keys and title. I mean, if some fast-talking Vo-Techer (an oxymoron?) came to separate me from Greta with the right amount of Benjamins, I would not squeal too loudly-there are a million yard ornaments out there with my name on them, thanks much.

It is in this spirit that, a few years ago, a guy came up with the website www.carsinbarns.com . I'd show you some pics but he's got them all protected-fair enough. Go there, it's worth it if only to make grown men cry-hundreds of cars, organized by marque, sitting in barns, garages, side yards, junkyards and in front of run-down motels all across this great land. When possible, he has a story for each one. I have not seen so may Superbirds in one place, not even Mopars at Carlisle! Sadly, they all sit, like my youth's beloved '57 BelAir, sinking into the ground. In the end, the nasty old bastard who holds the title on that beauty will die, and it will be sold at auction with nothing the prick can do about it. Will it be worth it? To someone it will, even after 40 years of rot.

snap!

2007-09-23T20:56:00.001-07:00

So, the official story is this-dealing with my doggie on the steps, I managed to trip, fall, and break my ankle. The bad news? A broken ankle. The good? Maybe I can get some of this blogging done again....you know, in my copious spare time. I'll be in touch realllly soon.

Off to the races...Illegal Hot Wheels races.....

2007-09-03T12:49:00.001-07:00

(An event so insane Mattel would not sanction it!)

While the above picture could have, most likely, been taken any time in the last 40 years or so, it is, indeed, from this past weekend. Got to love Photoshop and sepia-tone. My friend Jimmy D, the Viceroy of Ridicule, has been an avid collector of Hot Wheels Cars since he was small. Jim is possessed with a freewheeling lifestyle, limited responsibility, and a fair salary (not unlike Yours Truly), so one of the things he continues to do is fortify his collection with new Mattel releases.

Jim got to thinking we ought to get together and have a race. Now, mind you, we have gotten together in the past for more than one event the average adult could easily consider juvenile. There are the regularly-occurring Risk games, often a marathon stretching out over the hours and cases of Yuengling like some real-life, alcohol-soaked Falklands conflict. There was the idea (though rejected) of a back-to-back showing of every Star Wars movie-the hard part was deciding on order-is it I-VI, or IV, V, VI, I, II, III ? (The event would have been further made enticing by a keg and the offering of Depends to those who felt they did not want to get up to use the bathroom all day.) Finally there was Jim's bachelor party, where we camped out, rode mini-bikes, nearly set each other on fire with potato cannons, wrecked a truck, and found out Dave D can bend time and space to appear and disappear at will.

As Jim tells it, somewhere along the line recently, there was a shortage of Hot Wheels track. I'm not sure if it was an artificial shortage, or one due to a great demand for the stuff, but for a long time, apparently, you could not get it. Recently, one can assume, the floodgates have again opened and the (now) orange track is available in all its extruded glory. Jim promptly plunked down around $125 for enough track to go to the Van Allen Belts and back.

(A partial lineup. From left to right: Aaron's (Brain's kid) dragon car, Dave D's Datsun 128x, Brain's 'Cuda "Savage Grace", my belly tank lakester "Twelve Lashes", Ian's (Brains other kid) '57 Chevy, Gerald's concept car, Jimmy D's "BFC", and Chad's "Your Momma". Missing from the photo is Daryl's Lexus, "Relentless Pursuit". Special thanks to Labatt's Blue for unofficially sponsoring the event, or at least for letting us drink their beer after we paid for it.)

The contestants ages spanned the years from around 12 to well over 40. Despite this, the trash talking was intense, and even prevented one contestant (Stiv) from showing up at all, despite spending all night drilling out his entry's body and adding weight to the chassis. While the younger set chose cars more on flash or street cred, The adults considered factors like weight, aerodynamics, ground clearance, roadholding capability as well as the aforementioned aesthetics. Many potential entries were quickly discounted in the test runs-some were too heavy to negotiate the trademark Hot Wheels loops, others allowed centrifugal force to get the best of them in the curves.

The events would be fairly simple-a "road course" track of our own design, and a flat-out drag strip. Standard elimination would rule, and a loser's bracket was created to make up for an odd number of contestants. Contestant over the finish line first won-in the likely event both cars jumped the track, the one travelling farthest overall would be determined the winner.
After taking a good hour or more to set up our tracks, we were ready to (literally) roll.

My entry was quickly eliminated in the first round. However, I was able to make up for it in the loser bracket, and gradually worked my way up through the pack to the top. A lot of track adjustment was going on, to the pleasure of some and the chagrin of others. It became obvious that the inside or "house-side" track was a hot setup, and the "alley-side" had more than it's share of troubles.

(Lonely at the top. We had an exhibition race for our friend Danny, stationed in the Gulf-two military Hummers-either way, Army was the winner. House-side is left, Alley-side right. Blue US Postal Service tape is horribly misappropriated as a smooth transition to the loops. Note Daryl standing in the distance, just above Brian's head at near 12 o' Clock-he's watching the finish line of this massive track!)

(Since Jim was racing, Big George (L) filled in as professional heckler and all around pain in the ass. Dave looks to be watching his chances at victory slowly slip away-it was that kind of afternoon for some.)

(more than one person had a problem with Chad, an attorney, running the starting gate. Here, Gerald looks on for any malfeasance and stands prepared to pound him into a pulp should he start trying to lawyer his way out of anything. Brian, his hand seen at left, has already decided to disqualify Chad altogether.)

Towards the end of the first event, I worked my way up to the Number Two spot, paired off against Jim, organizer of the event. Now mind you, Jim and I have been trading insults and wisecracks for nigh on 25 years now, so there was no shortage of intimidation attempted, and no amount of efforts rebuffed-it would simply have to come down to a race. I had not run in some time, so I had the opportunity to test-run. I quickly checked the alley-side track, in case lane choice was mine. In the end it would be a good move. I ended up winning the race, and a $10 side bet with Jim. In an amazing show of cunning, he promptly reminded me I owed him a Fin for the beer, and I handed him back his money.

(One weird Winner's Circle-Jim, the closest thing we had to a Trophy Girl, congratulates me on my win and awards my my price-a large-scale Hot Wheels car and track set!)

Donnie gets himself a bitch.

2007-09-03T08:53:00.001-07:00

Well it was bound to happen I guess. Donnie has fallen for the blonde next door. Meet Frankie, a Golden Doodle owned by my neighbor, Jamie. She's 13 weeks old and he runs from her like she's a pit bull. Must be love. Note Donnie jumping up and away as Frankie "attacks" him. My dog is a wuss.

PEDAL CAR JUNKYARD!!!!

2007-09-02T10:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a pic straight out of dreams from my own pre-teenage years-it encompasses two of my favorite things at the time-pedal cars and junkyards! Junkyards, of course, are still one of my favorites. This image is by R. Ehlers, and is entitled "Take your Pick!" I located this on Ebay, and the seller is local to me.

I have heard a legend circulating around through the years of just such a place close by here-I have never been able to nail down the location, but it generally is told as being somewhere on the top of the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware Water Gap. I can imagine going there and filling up my pickup with cars, and turning them into a small fortune on Ebay and at places like Carlisle and the Macungie Awkschfest. I emailed the seller to see if there is any additional information about the photo and where it may have been taken.

Today I found my neighbor was throwing out a reproduction Texaco Fire Chief fire engine pedal car-it even has the front bell the driver can ring...My Mom has been searching endlessly for one of these babies to no avail, and I found one half a block away for FREE. Pictures to follow of my latest curbside find.

Craigslist gives up her gold again

2007-08-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

Here we have a very rare 1951 Ford P3 bread van. It has been converted, at the Boyertown body factory, into a vintage factory motor home.

Get a look at this beautiful vintage cabinetry in a sweet mint green!

Asking price is $2500. Not bad considering the rarity, and a nice alternative to polishing your Airstream-again....I can see this refurbished for tailgating, or hanging out at vintage car shows-handing out mint juleps in aluminum anodized tumblers with lots of ice. Of course some good old Oscar Mayer bologna sandwiches would follow.

Murder Vans and More...

2007-08-24T18:29:00.000-07:00

(An Econoline Murder Van modded into a sweet little storage trailer, or a camper for carnies. Photo courtesy of Crack La Rock.)

There is something sinister about old vans. They, like Stephen King's Christine, seem to whisper from behind closed doors "come on, Big Fella, let's cruise." Once you are inside, it's all over, man....

Most sinister, in appearance, at least, is the old Ford Econoline vans from the Sixties. John Wayne Gacy had one of these for his contracting business, and no doubt used it in his fiendish exploits (wonder what happened to that macabre reminder of Gacy?)

Hey yo, where dat Greta been at?

2007-08-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

So, a summer of flea markets and a bad-ass bike has left me in neglect of some things-one is a timely update of this blog, and the other is my girl Greta-since spring she has languished in the drive, hemorrhaging diesel into the local water table from her bad injector pump seals. I am hoping to, nay, going to order some motor mounts THIS weekend, as I believe that will solve my problem of the fan clipping my new, lovgingly reinforced Nissens radiator.

In the big pile of Mercedes stuff I scored a beautiful Hirschmann antenna! There's just one problem: It looks nothing like the one that came out. The plugs are different, and this one is set up for a cellular phone as well. It will most likely be going up on Ebay, as I think I have found a more expedient solution to my antenna problems. More on that later.

Then there is the matter of this little guy. Meet Donnie, my new roommate. He is, as far as I can tell a purebred North American Craphound, that is to say, a Heinz 57 that may or may not include one or more of the following: Beagle, Treeing Walker Coonhound, Shepherd, Jack Russell Terrier and God Knows what else. He's pretty well trained already, I got him from my friend Karen, who supplied me with my new Harley in trade as well-she does rescue and has been looking for a home for him for a while. He had been known as "Danny" to her, but I modified it to "Donnie" after Steve Buscemi's character in "The Big Lebowski" He loves riding in the car, hates the Harley (barks incessantly at it when I start it up), and does not like to poo unless a twig is against his butt. He's the Howard Hughes of mutts.

More on the upgrade...

2007-08-18T17:38:00.001-07:00

Basically the trade for the new ride went like this-I had my Sportster as mentioned in my previous posts. I quickly outgrew it. It is not really a bike made for someone of my height and stature. I quickly realized I looked like the proverbial monkey trying to fuck a football on it, and more than one person took the liberty of saying same (oddly guys on bigger Hogs-thanks fellas, got an extra $15-$25k to loan me for a new bike? Assholes.) While I loved the sound, and yes, the mystique, it was no longer getting it for me. It was also....well, too NEW for me....

I got the Softail from a friend, a FEMALE friend who had bought it for her ex-boyfriend. Long story short, she was still paying on it, could not ride it (too big), and she wanted to be free and clear of it as well as having something of her own to ride again. After some negotiating, we agreed to trade bikes with some cash. I got a SUPER deal. She was able to pay off her loan and walk away with a nearly new Sportster. Everybody was happy.

I mentioned the Sportster being too "new". I like operating vehicles and machinery that feel as if I lose concentration, someone could die or be seriously hurt. I like the thrill that comes with having to do odd sequences of shifting, braking, steering, and the like. I'd love a jockey-shift Harley. I'd love to operate a combine, or a quarry truck, just to see what it feels like to be in control of that much iron while almost out of control. My friend Brian's old Mercedes Unimog truck from the Swiss Army, with all it's levers for various differentials was a blast. The new bike is kind of like that.

FIrst off, it's big-not just bigger in frame size, but it has a 1340cc engine bored out to about 1949 and change. It has a bigger cam. It BARELY idles, fat and loud through straight pipes. It's nearly all black, just the right amounts of chrome and the vintage tank emblems from a '61 Panhead give it the look of that bike. A Softail's suspension is designed to give the appearance of a vintage hardtail rigid frame, whild still offering the rider some suspension to save the spine. Some of the original Hell's Angels can barely walk due to riding rigids in the early days. Without knowing bikes or Harleys well one could look at it and assume it is an antique.

Assume, that is, until you ride it. Despite a long wheelbase, the front end WILL pick up off the ground on this thing. As you approach 60mph it is soo obvious there is a lot more to go. Wind begins to pull you back off the LePera low-profile seat. you hang on, but the vibration is so great it threatens to shake you off the bike. It's reminiscent of the old "paint mixer" Harleys of thirty years ago. God Help Me, I love it.

I got a nice set of leather saddlebags with it-they are worn in just the right amount, and don't need stupid frames attached to the bike to hold them away from the rear wheel. Now it is even more vintage looking. More on the delivery later.

Upgrade.

2007-07-30T16:44:00.001-07:00

Coming via truck this Wednesday is the next chapter in the saga of my life with motorcycles. For now let's just say a trade of sorts is in the works, and it is, at minimum, mutually beneficial for all parties. More later...

Strangest find yet....

2007-06-27T20:11:00.001-07:00

Yeah, It's a body armor vest. Why so strange? I found it on a trash pile! I was out on the Harley and rode past a house with a bunch of stuff out for trash day. I did a double-take, and then a "nahhhh", so I turned around and sure enough, it was what it was. Most shocking was it was my size! Not an easy find by any stretch of the imagination. Not sure how much I can rely on this thing but it has to beat rollin' naked. I looked like a fool wearing it home on my bike, and it smelled like a dog but that's been all fixed. Eventually everything you need in life you will find in the trash. I am Detritius Rex, King of Garbage!

More stuff.....

2007-06-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

(Note old Yamaha boat anchor in rear of pic-the Cunnermen took it away this week after I put a "free" sign on it)

I really wish that I could pass up a deal sometimes. When this 2000 Harley-Davidson 1200XL Sportster was offered to me for the price of a well-worn dirtbike, I had to jump. Never considered myself a Harley type of guy...then I rode it. Now I know what all the hype is about. True, this is a newer model-Evolution engine is rubber-mounted on the frame, and a lot of the roughness has been smoothed out of the line. But there is still the satisfying rumble that is American V-Twin.

I grew up around Harley-Davidson-kind of. As a kid, The Old Man had a Harley/AMF snowmobile. While the AMF years are regarded as some of the worst for H-D, as I kid I didn't know any better. Our sled was red, white and blue, and our helmets festooned with the Stars and Stripes "#1" logo.

(AMF went into all kinds of new fields with H-D's brand-snowmobiles and dirt bikes was one.)

This would have been cool enough, but at the time a certain idol of mine, yes, an American Idol of a much different kind was burning up the nation on a Harley of his own. That's right, none other than Evel Knievel rode a Harley in many of his famed stunts. Any kid who grew up in the Seventies and ever crashed a Schwinn Stingray off a scrap lumber ramp has a little bit of Evel in him. I sat through hours of hype and talk on Saturday afternoons as ABC Sports covered the latest Evel stunt. I wanted to be him-shit, I was for Halloween. I had the posters, the records the toys...and of course, my red, white and blue Harley helmet-NUMBER ONE!

(A pre-Misery Evel shows his pearly whites-photo courtesy of his official site.)

(Bad-Ass in the Seventies was having your name on a pinball machine!)

(Portrait of The Daredevil as a Young Man.)

Of course, times have changed-Evel has grown old and is a miserable bastard-his son Robbie claims he was always a bastard. As a kid, I never knew my idol was pretty much a turd. I saw the recent documentary on his life and it made me cry. Today we'd have to pay $75 to watch him on Pay-Per-View if he were around. A sad part of growing up is knowing your idols are all dead or pieces of shit.

But anyway, back to the bike. It runs like a dream-seems to be all low-end, but it's nice for blipping the throttle around town. Not nearly as scary as my Magna, but maybe part of that is from having owned the Magna. She's comfy up until about 80mph, then she really starts to vibrate and wander, kinda like a big old dildo left turned on, across a linoleum floor.

I'm not crazy about purple, so I talked to my friend Wee Paul, who is an absolute wizard with bike paint. I've seen him rebuild absolute wrecks into show bikes. I was thinking silver-my helmet is silver with flames that fade from red to yellow. The silver is approximately the color of the Yamaha R1s. Paulie has sprayed this on at least two bikes that I know of, and I've seen black and silver look pretty damned good on a Sportster. We are going to design something and see what we can do.

Paul's buddy Tom has the same bike, with the exception of the wheels-his are steel spoked. He's got a spare front wheel I'd like to con him out of, I think it would dress up the front. At this point I'm so ahead of the game on price, I can afford a little bling. Truth be told, I'd like to keep it subdued, more like a Night Train:

Note how the motor is almost totally black, save for the hardware and jug fins. Subtle, yet screaming "BAD-ASS" all at once. this one is a custom, but you get the idea. I think I'd like the tank to be silver where this one is black and vice versa. Any ideas?

How Sweet! New Seat! Part II...

2007-05-15T17:24:00.000-07:00

(One could make the assumption, from the askance appearance of this worn leather seat in relation to all right angles in my driveway, that it was the victim of a spirited bout of English/Polish Seat Tossing, and, knowing my patience, you'd be right. Oh, how she flew!)

I had some spare time this evening, and since I didn't need a nap now that I am basically a secretary at work, I decided to get started replacing Greta's front seats. As you may recall I had purchased some newer seats a while back, and have been looking for a good excuse to get started on installation. It was a little warm for May this evening but my shower works, so I tore into it, Stink be damned...

Basically most seats are held in with four bolts-leave it to Mercedes-Benz to go one better-that's right, there's one extra bolt that holds the whole works in place, seemingly it is for collision protection as close as I can tell-anyway, after looking at the new seats I got the general idea of how the old ones were held in, and got to it. The rear bolts are a bit of a bitch-they require either carefully angling and turning your socket wrench, or putting the socket on and carefully placing the wrench on top. Of course, there is most likely a factory tool for this, but it's probably 600 bucks and made of stag bone. Hell, there's probably just a better wrench, but This Guy doesn't have it.

But soon enough, I had the bolts undone and was easing out the seat. It gave me a chance to get a good look at it, even in the fading light of the day: (I never really noticed just how faded this was-of course, the tears in the leather are obvious.) If your 124 Mercedes does not have the front bolster piece [where the boomerang-shaped tear is in this one at the front], and your center perforated tucks go all the way to the front of the seat, guess what? Hate to break it to you, you don't have leather! It's MB Tex, sorry. Realistic feeling, ain't it?

I was not surprised at most of what I found under the seat-one needs only look down between their center console to find the collection of spare change, errant french fries, and cigarette ashes to get an idea-but some of it was a little distressing:

(total take? 21 cents, a pair of shitty sunglasses, some broken glass (automotive)and plastic pieces from some toy, a Tampax [thankfully unused, though that smell is still there, need to track that, lol], two paper matches, and a pen. My tools and solvents don't count, on top of the brown floor mat. This is actually better looking than it was, and I thought the camera didn't lie-or maybe that's the mirror...)

I generally try not to screw around when buying tools-mostly I try to get the best I can for my money, or get the best for less. This Mondo-Sized ShopVac is from an auction I went to a while back-it pays to go to an auction when everyone else is interested in a stupid John Deere Tractor with all the attachments. The tractor? $3500. My ShopVac? Ten bucks. Retail? More than ten bucks. Sucks like a prom queen, too.

So I got to work with some foamy carpet cleaner with a brush on the top and I got this:
(MUCH better-I strongly suggest doing this annually if your seat comes out easily-that way, it won't take half an hour like mine did to get the mung out. Of course, I anal-retentively combed all the nap back in the right direction, despite the fact that until the car gets junked, no one would know but me.)

There was a little grease at the rear bolt mounts-I assume from grease on the seat tracks-you'll notice the black marks above. I used one of the newer "purple" cleansers-mine was a generic version, but Castrol Super Clean is a good one if you want a brand name. I buy it by the two-gallon jug now. Word of caution: Open your doors, this stuff is caustic-smelling, and will get you coughing-God only knows what is in it to get grease out.

That left me with this:
(Some tiny remnants, but a lot better than it was, trust me.)

By now it was getting dark, so I figured I'd hold of installation until tomorrow or later in the week. I'm crossing my fingers it will be an easy one.

Kar Kulture going mainstream?

2007-05-06T17:24:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me fairly well knows that I love Kustom Kulture-the Bettie Page chicks, tatts, ducktails and pompadours, flat-black ratrods, the works. I am a huge fan of The Reverend Horton Heat and bands like Southern Culture on The Skids. It's a huge subculture that always seems to lurk in the fringe. So it was a surprise to me when I got a look at Car Kulture DeLuxe on the shelves at Barnes and Noble of all places. It is the little snippets of irony that get me through the day when I'm feeling down...I picture the lone greaser leafing through the copies of Vogue and Architectural Digest with a tattoo-covered arm, saying "man there has to be ONE copy left here, man".

Usually when a magazine is published catering to a subculture nowadays, it is assumed that it has "jumped the shark" as they say in TV lingo-meaning, it is no longer hip, hot, whatever the kiddies are callin' it. So at first blush, I'd say that it was time to move on to the Next Big Thing.

However, this subculture has a few things going for it in terms of survivability-it is driven, by and large, by a slightly older demographic. It's not uncommon at Rat Rod shows to see guys in their sixties who actually worked on all-steel customs back in the day. With guys like Jesse James paying homage on his shows to icons like George Barris and lead-slinger Bill Hines, The perpetuation of the custom car phenomenon continues to roll on. One would think the compact car craze would see the older trends dying off-not so. As more folks get older and have a little scratch in their pocket, it's not uncommon on a decent cruise night to see Rats, Rice Burners, Sportbikes, Harleys and Musclecars under one sodium arc lamp in Anytown, USA. What's cool is you see the generations sometimes sharing tips and fish stories, and there is a genuine respect for those who have gone before-something sorely lacking elsewhere in our culture these days. It hearkens back to the elder telling stories around the fire, spinning tales of mystery and wonder.

The Compact Car phenomenon is borne out of the same necessities Hot Rodding was-take a lightweight, readily available, cheaply-aquired car, and wring every last bit of horsepower out of your engine. The Honda and Nissan engine swaps of today are no different than the Cadillac or Olds engines dropped into the Ford Roadsters of yesteryear. Early hot rods were the most available cars of the day-usually old Fords that had lived out their usefulness as family cars or daily commuters, rusting away in junkyards until enterprising youth rescued them and chopped, channeled, bored and stroked their way into automotive history.

Another thing the Kustom craze has is that it has both nostalgia and rebellion rolled into one-the iconic image of James Dean is etched on the far-off glance of every Wannabilly that stares at a chopped all-steel sedan as it rolls by. It is something that some youth as well as the folks who lived it in the 1950s can identify with.

I predict there will be a new segment of the subculture-perhaps the foreign sports car faction-James Dean drove (and died) in a Porsche after all. These enthusiasts will be a bit snobbier, less ornamentation, more clean cut... They'll wear chinos and poplin windbreakers, madras shirts, shiny penny loafers and flattop haircuts. The rift will be like the Mods and Rockers in Quadrophenia. Subcultures of today are simply examples of Neo-Tribalism-your group, your Boys, Your Homies, your Tribe. It's just that rather than gang violence, some of us just like to look at cars.

Long story short, I bought the magazine-I like it, and I'll probably get it again.

Funky Flea Find...

2007-05-06T17:09:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what to make of this-I got it at the flea market today. The vendor dude only wanted five bucks for it, and my friend Tammy had come out for the day so I got a quick "you need that" from her which sealed the deal. As you can probably see by the difference in the two pics, it spins and changes patterns in a psychadelic way-since i loved all this crap as a kid (still seeking a reaaaallly nice disco ball, y'all!), it was an easy decision to make. Based on the plastic being a neon yellow I'd place manufacture in the early 90's. I've seen beer lights of this era use the optical method to simulate "water" in an outdoor Molson scene, etc. It has no real purpose I guess, other than to maybe use if I decide to get that online Hypnotherapy degree. I'm sure the 4:20 crowd would like it.

There is something vaguely Subgenius about it-like if I stare long enough, I may actually be able to see the damn Fnords...

Insane Diesel action....

2007-05-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

There is something about the Finnish people-the more I research things pertaining to squeezing more horsepower out of any given vehicle, the more sites point towards Finland when all resources are exhausted. It is the home of Mika Hakkinen, after all...I didn't think Greta would be able to ever lay rubber until I saw this:

For those of you not used to watching diesel performance at the track, my understanding of making one perform is thus: You first need to focus on getting more fuel to your engine, and everything else is second. There is nothing wrong with the cars you see here spewing smoke-it is simply unburned fuel, and therefore, wasted horsepower. If this could be harnessed these things could not be beaten I would guess. Check out the 201 190D Benz smoking the older Vette at the end of the dragstrip...cool.

The Finns held off the Nazis during WWII with their hunting rifles-one of them is even credited with bringing down a Stuka with one shot from a deer gun....nice folks....

Computers at the Dawn of Time!

2007-05-05T13:00:00.000-07:00

Many moons ago, when I was a child, the odyssey of video gaming began...it was not as it is today, there was no such thing as CD, DVD or uber-bit graphics. We had sixteen bits and we liked it!

When you wanted the best of both worlds, you bought a Commodore computer-it would let you compute (even write your own games!) as well as play games from the arcade (is there such a thing as an arcade anymore?) Anyway, this was the Vic-20-as I recall, this dealie was a little less expensive than the 64, which was the Commodore Computer flagship. Anyone correct me if I'm wrong. And best of all, it's being hawked by shameless pitchman William "Wiggy" Shatner-some things never change.

Disaster-Part Deux.

2007-04-30T18:07:00.001-07:00

(Brian pores over the manual printout to see how we screwed up.)

After waiting a few weeks for Brian to be free, we managed to get the radiator back in Greta. We installed the new Nissens to a T, and started her up-fine. We then shut her off and began to add coolant. On the second start, I heard a "Kerrang!" and immediately saw new coolant spewing all over the engine bay. Somehow the fan managed to touch the new radiator and damage it. How I managed to not break anything is a minor miracle.

(Our friend Jimmy D stopped by with the usual gifts of snacks and ridicule.)

It looks like my local radiator shop can repair the damage-they have some epoxy process for aluminum that is supposed to work wonders. As soon as I can get the radiator out, I'll drop it off for repair.

(We also put a new accessory belt in-like it matters.)

THE SLEEPER HAS AWAKENED!

2007-04-15T11:13:00.000-07:00

People all have different markers for the first true sign of spring-for many here in the Northeast it's the first sight of a robin. For others it's baseball. Still others mark the opening of their favorite seasonal ice cream or hot dog stand.

For me, it's the opening of the Saylorsburg Flea Market. Usually Easter weekend, a few stragglers begin to set up, but it's really this weekend where it starts in earnest. So as usual, I fired up my truck and headed out-you need the truck, you see, in case you find the deal of a lifetime, that happens to be four-by-eight feet or smaller. Like the massive Pizza Hut sign I scored for 40 bucks(soon to grace my basement bar!) Or the industrial sewing machine. Or the vintage Manco go-cart with original metal-flake paint. It is here where some of the best of my childhood memories are stored, and for sale.

Best part about Saylorsburg is it is literally built on memories-it is the former site of the Blue Ridge Drive-In Theater. Many a high school night was spent pawing at some poor honor student as she fought my horny advances, while a not-so-good second run movie played on the huge outdoor screen. It is for that reason, I think, that the flea market holds a special, revered place in my heart, and probably no other market or swap meet could ever come close.

The first few weeks are not the best-it takes a good month of people going "oh shit, the flea market is open" to become both vendor and shopper/browser. An absolutely fantastic time to go is Memorial Day Weekend-the place is chock full of the usual vendors plus weekenders cleaning out their basements or just taking advantage of the holiday hysteria to make a few bucks. It will take you a good two hours on a day like that to cover everything, and most likely, you will have to hit everthing twice, as I do, to make sure you did not miss something.

Where else are you going to find antiques (I equate "antiques" mostly with furniture and day to day items prior to 1950, but that's me), vintage toys, produce, new and used tools of all kinds, candy, clothing, powersports items of all kinds, surplus, fireworks (lame ones, it's PA after all), pocketknives, nunchucks, cheap chinese imports that would make WalMart blush, along with some of the best fudge I've ever tasted? Nowhere. The flea market is like your grandmother's cool attic on a bigger, outdoor scale, and everyone's invited.

Generally I buy used tools here-a few vendors are very adept at cleaning out basements and attending estate sales. I can score great deals on name-brand tools (mostly Craftsman, the do-it-yourselfers standby of the last fifty years or more, but a smattering of Snap-On, Proto and the like). There is little damage the average home handyman can do to a hand tool in forty-some years, unless he was a complete primate or using it for something beyond it's design. Over the years I have also learned what constitutes good or bad power tools as well-as companies merge and brands are bought by others, you know the difference between a "Good Black and Decker" and a "Junk Black and Decker", and can buy accordingly.

Probably my best score at Saylorsburg was a "good" Kitchenaid mixer-from a time period when construction and materials choice was top-notch (though they are still pretty well made today). Works like a charm, just had to buy the bowls and attachments. My price? $25. I have to tell you, I got offers of up to $100 as I lugged that thing to the car-it's one of those "once in a lifetime" deals you hope for.

Since this week was light on vendors, I did not get much-just a set of four casters I need for the rolling cabinet I'm building for my coffee maker. I could not find these anywhere for less than four or five bucks apiece, and the cheaper ones were not worth having. I got some heavier, industrial-grade casters out of a large box a vendor had for a buck a piece! "These have been going fast" the guy said. I agreed, and told him why. He seemed happy to be able to sell them at a profit for way below retail. I for one was damned happy to buy.

Minor Surgery...

2007-04-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

Ok, here's how I made my $215 radiator into a $320 radiator for about $12. As I mentioned in a previous post, the Nissens radiator does not have a metal reinforcement inside the necks where the upper and lower radiator hoses attach. I decided to blog this so that anyone needing to do something similar can learn from any mistakes I make. It is not necessary for you to own a 20 year-old Mercedes diesel to benefit from this-rather, it is to show you that a lot of the stuff mechanics and craftsmen are able to do is no real mystery. It is also to show how a little time, patience, and minor cash outlay can save a lot more money in the end.

After reading the recommendations on modifying the Nissens on ShopForum, I realized I could either purchase the kit the parts store sells, which is basically two pieces of copper tubing and some hi-temp waterproof adhesive, or I could buy the stuff myself, as a fair number of other members had done. Being in a bit of a hurry (Greta was now weeping THREE different fluids on my driveway), I shoved off for my local Orange Box Warehouse Home Improvement Center. Think what rhymes with "cheapo". There I found what I needed. Two pieces of copper tubing with the proper outside diameter of just over an inch. The pieces at my store were reducers, so they narrowed down to a smaller diameter to fit a smaller piece of pipe. Their real use is immaterial, as we are using them in a state altered from the original anyway. Should you ever need to do this, get your measurements off the inside of your neck-the OUTSIDE diameter of your copper piece should be the same or very close. A snug fit is ideal, but you can build your adhesive up. Check your junk pile before you go buy something! Repurposing rules.

(I thought about the copper oxidizing in the radiator, but truthfully I would not know where to begin looking for either aluminum or brass tubing to do the job, plus there had been no problems reported with anyone who had gone the ShopForum route and used copper. I figured if worst came to worst I would remove my hoses periodically and take a toothbrush to the copper to knock back the cupric oxide that formed. I doubt it will be a problem.)

Next came the proper adhesive. Again, I had done some prior research, looking through spec and MSDS data sheets to see what would work best. In the end, I could have just taken the advice of the forum members. JB-Weld is a fantastic substance that comes in two tubes, and is activated upon mixing the steel resin filler and the catalyst together in equal parts. The result is a steel-hard substance that can be filed, tapped, drilled and machined. If you could actually weld it, it would be perfect. It withstands a temperature up to 600 degrees (far higher than the 225 or so in my radiator), is waterproof, and also chemical resistant-I'm hoping the formulation of antifreeze will be one of those chemicals, but again, research has told me this won't be a problem. One package is more than enough to do the job, and will actually leave you with plenty for other repairs. Make sure you get the original JB-Weld (black and red tubes and packaging) and not the newer JB-Qwik(Blue and Orange tubes)-The Qwik is not suited for the higher temperatures. I have used JB Qwik on other applications, however, and found that under less-than-extreme conditions it is an ideal adhesive/filler.

(The coolest part about JB-Weld is the old-school packaging-look at that old clip-art!! and an oval blank for writing in the price at the top left! In an era of UPC scan codes, this is way cool!)

Once home, I took my reducers and placed the narrow ends over the end of an old broomstick before placing them in my shop vise. This way, the copper would only deform as much as the wood beneath, and the length of my stick would help grip in the vise, letting me saw without the piece falling out of the vise. It also did not matter if the smaller piece deformed, as it was only going to go on my copper pile for recycling anyway (copper prices are way up, BTW).

(Make sense now? The broomstick keeps the tubing from oval-ing and then grips the rearmost part of the vise jaws.)

After some careful cutting, I had the pieces I needed. I cleaned them up on my bench grinder, and finished them off on my drill press with a tapered abrasive bit-the main idea was to get rid of any burrs that may do damage to the hoses, and to remove any hanging copper that could find it's way into the cooling system. You don't have to go crazy, but do a good job smoothing them out. In the absence of a grinder or press, a Dremel tool or hand file will to the job just fine.(piece on the right is not perfect, but probably as acceptable as anything that has been on the last three Space Shuttles that blew up.)

Now comes the messy part. I took a small paper plate and laid out my beads of Resin and Hardener from the JB-Weld package. I keep a small stack of cocktail plates for just such an occasion, but a word of caution-styrofoam plates will usually soften or melt from the slight chemical calalyzation of the JB-Weld. There is a slight heating action that takes place as the product cures, and it has left me with a mess on exactly ONE occasion-when I used a styrofoam plate as my mixing palette.
(equal amounts are required to make the JB-Weld work properly)

I also prepared a few mixing sticks ahead of time-two craft popsicle sticks are sanded down on the grinder for a more fine tip:

A bit of brisk mixing and the JB-Weld is ready. It should look like this when done-well blended and no white or black streaks in the mix:

The next part was too tough to photograph and do at the same time-I smeared the JB-Weld on the outside of the tubing, putting most of it on the side going into the neck first, to allow it to spread upwards to cover the entire outside of each piece. Your pieces will slide in fairly loosely, really only hindered by the adhesive. Once they are in place, wipe off any excesses and stand the radiator on its side-gravity will pull the tubing further inwards if you leave the necks facing up. After ten minutes or so check the fittings to see if they have migrated inward-if so, pull them back out and clamp them in place. JB-Weld will fully cure in about 15 hours or so. If you have left any excess anywhere that has dried, no fear-remember the stuff can be sanded off with paper or a Dremel tool if necessary. Try to get any excess inside that could be prone to flaking off in the future, and thereby clogging your system.

(The whole works will look like this once you get it in there-carefully wipe off all the outside excess....)

(aaaaand...you're done. Anything on the inside is easier cleaned after drying of the adhesive [with your dremel, file or sandpaper]-make sure you face the necks downward/outward when removing any debris, to keep the crud out of the radiator, and ultimately, your cooling system.)

Next step will be installation of the transmission cooling lines from the old radiator. Stay tuned.

New Arrivals...

2007-04-01T18:13:00.000-07:00

Shown above is Greta's new radiator. Note how it sits in my living room, in front of my Danish Modern buffet. Why? Two reasons-first, auto parts in one's living room are one of the upsides of bachelorhood. Second is due to the origins of the unit.

I decided to go with Nissens, a Danish-made unit. After doing some extensive research online, I found out the Behr OEM units are no longer made in Germany, nor South Africa, but in China. I feel the Chinese imports of all types need about ten to fifteen years of manufacturing improvements and commerce to reach the quality of items made elsewhere. Also, when adding the previous reason and cost into the equation, the Nissens is, in my opinion, the better radiator at a better price. There is, however, one small design flaw that needs to be attended to. The Behr is constructed similarly, of aluminum and composite, however, you'll notice the composite is at each end, and the necks for the upper and lower radiator hoses are molded into it. Over time, as the composite ages it becomes brittle. A regular or breakdown change of a radiator hose can end with a cracked or crushed neck and no good way to fix it. For this reason, Behr units are equipped with an inner aluminum sleeve absent in the Nissens. This is, however, an easy fix. A simple trip to Home Depot or similar store for a few pieces of copper tubing and an appropriate adhesive (more on this in a later post) will make for an adequate fix recommended by the Mercedes ShopForum community. All told, it's still cheaper than a Chinese Behr by nearly $100.

Also in the box from Autohaus Arizona was a new accessory (serpentine) belt, and idler pulley. The diesel engine for some reason has an idler pulley with a propensity to droop down, pulling away from the belt for about an eighth of an inch. While it could most likely run forever in this configuration, at 170k it is probably wise for me to replace it. Since I had everything apart, and the pulley is a $20 or so part, i figured I'd swap out the works all at once. Experience has taught me that catastrophic mechanical failures of great expense start with the breaking of a tiny, inexpensive part that is easily replaced as part of regular maintenance.

How Sweet! New Seat!

2007-04-01T16:47:00.000-07:00

OK, so my subject line is stolen and paraphrased from Freddy Krueger. But Freddy was a product of the 80s, and so is my Baby. I was lucky enough to find a mechanic in Aldan, PA (near Philadelphia) who had a 1992 400E he was parting out as the result of a mechanic's lien he had on the car. I spotted the front seats for sale on Ebay, and was lucky enough to get them for just FIFTY BUCKS! Upon picking the seat's up at the seller's shop, I promptly made a deal with the mechanic, Steve, to purchase more stuff off the vehicle. In the end I walked away with carpeting, door panels, steering wheel, headlamps and wipers, monowiper, wheels and tires, carpeting and upholstery for the trunk, rear seating, and trunk lid for $750. It was just one of those things-here was a car, not only with a matching interior in better condition, but a matching trunk lid, same color. I kind of had to jump when the chance came-these cars are getting more and more rare, and I may not get the chance to get some of these parts in the future.

The driver's seat is not perfect-it has a bit of regular wear on the bolster, and a small rip in the backrest. But, compared to Greta's original seats, these are practically showroom new. Put it this way-if seats were faces, these new ones would be Ellen Barkin-good looking but a little rough. The old ones would be Phyllis Diller-cracked, wrinkled, faded and plain worn out. The irony of this comparison and the idea of "sitting on faces" is not lost on me, by the way.

(This is the worst of it-a rip about two inches long-of course, being on perforated leather makes a near-invisible repair tough.)

(Here's the rest of it, sitting amongst the rest of the Big Pile of Stuff, which is gradually diminishing thanks to a less-painful back and more time off from work. At left rear of picture is the rear seats, followed by the trunk lid, standing out with license plate still attached. Then comes the interior carpets and trunk carpeting, to the right of all that are the wheels and tires, just slightly behind. You can also see the monowiper on the wall just above the wheels and tires. Red lawn mower is NOT Mercedes OEM)

Prepubescent Lust, in the cards...

2007-03-16T19:12:00.000-07:00

When I was around 12 or 13, before I stopped being afraid of girls (and don't think for one minute that in some ways they don't still TERRIFY me), I became very interested in motorcycles. My neighbors Tim, Brad and Kevin all had a mini-bike or small dirtbike of some kind to ride-back then, around here there were plenty of places to ride-the places that are all developments now were marked with various trails that had been worn into the dirt by the likes of Tim et al. The next neighborhood over was named for the circular street that formed it-Smiley Circle. The guys on Smiley Circle were two years older and had REAL bikes. I remember Dave, a gangly redhead who was so thin his chest was concave, with skin like a shrimp, nearly translucent. Dave had the Honda XR200R you see on the above playing card. You see, every year my dad would take me down to Nevil's Honda to look at the new models that had come out. Dad had spent some time on two wheels, and legend has it he still has bits of gravel in his face from a bad wreck (though rumor also has it said wreck was actually on a Vespa), and I think he truly enjoyed looking at what was new in the cycling world. He'd talk to the sales guys, and my brother and I would wander around looking at the bikes, sitting on them (after politely asking) and pretending we were riding. At the end of it all we'd get free swag, which included a deck of playing cards with all the new models on them. The images in this post are from a deck I recently acquired on Ebay, part of my Adult Overcompensation phase I currently find myself in.

(The CB1100F-in pre sportbike days, this was bad-ass-it's worth a decent buck today if you can find one)

Somewhere along the line I had decided I wanted one-it was pretty hard not to when "all the other kids" had one, and took off for parts (and seemingly worlds) unknown to me outside the neighborhood. Alas, I had not been born into a family with good motorcycle luck. My great uncle had lost a leg to his youthful motorcycle days, and a constant reminder was driven into my skull every year at family reunion time-Uncle John and his wooden leg (though by that time they were some sort of composite, the term "wooden leg" seemed to get used when referring to him, or more aptly, his accident), and my mother saying "THAT's what happens when you ride a motorcycle". Still another relative lost to history had allegedly beheaded himself collding with a utility pole guy wire in the dark. As a result, the odds of me getting on two wheels myself were pretty slim unless I was the horsepower.

Tim was the closest neighbor, and to this day, the coolest-he had, somewhere along the line, come into possession of a 1981 Honda XL80S-the XL was a Dual-Purpose bike, good for trail or street, what used to be known as an "enduro", for the long races that required headlights and sometimes street-legality, one assumes. Today we'd call it a DualSport or Motard. Tim's XL was the coolest color scheme of Honda Red, with white and yellow/orange highlights and pinstriping. I can only assume Tim's dad had bought the bike-Dick had a Yamaha RD350 of his own, and I had been lucky enough to get a ride on the back of it, though burning my leg on the tailpipe further hindered my arguments towards ownership with my mother.

After a fair amount of whining, I had managed to work out a deal with my parents-if I could do everything they asked, stay out of trouble, and get good grades for ONE YEAR, I would be given a motorcycle for my birthday. As a kid, I never really stopped to examine the futility of it-at that age, I was bound to fuck up eventually. As far as school was concerned, I was certainly smart enough, but boredom left me lax in my studies. I was at the age where rebellion is born, and was already becoming strong willed, so something was bound to happen there as well. In retrospect my parents probably knew this and were fully aware of just what an empty promise it was. For the first few days I recall scrubbing the house from top to bottom, including the all-important room cleaning, mowing the lawn, etc. I was bound and determined to get that bike!

(The XL200R-the object of my pre-teen lust-sadly it may as well have been the Ace of Spades)

Who knows where it went wrong-it could have been the refusal to eat a friggin brussel sprout. It could have been one sly remark as back talk. But I never got the bike. It would not be until a few years ago that I would ever get to own one, and to no surprise, it was one that was, quite literally, in the cards. I had sat on the V65 Magna as a kid-it was so big and bad-ass I could never in a million years, at that age, ever have envisioned owning one and driving it on the street.

(The V65 Magna-a bike no doubt designed for Satan Himself. With nearly 125 horsepower, for it's time, it was the King of The Hill-and I can at least say I owned one.)

I paid 500 bucks for my Magna-it was in great shape, I road the hell out of it for two years and traded it for Greta. Soon I'll most likely buy something else, but it will share little with the Magna or the legacy it represents to me. In the end I got my damned bike, and almost got killed by a telephone pole while it sat parked in my garage-go figure.

Cliff...

2007-03-16T18:27:00.000-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Cliff-at least that's what the back of this old photo is labeled. Unfortunately, that name scrawled in pencil is all that is written on it. I found Cliff in a pile of old photos at an automotive swap meet recently. What got my attention more than anything was the young girl on the left-she bears a shocking resemblence to photos of my own mother at a similar age, though Mom assured me it is not her. I have no Uncle Cliff, you see, and what would she be doing with a guy so much older than her unless she was his sister?

But lets do some visual archaeology and forensics here. I would put this photo somewhere in the 1950s, by the fact that the vintage stock car appears to be late 30's or early 40's vintage-I know there are guys that could identify the roofline, but I ain't one of them-still, a twenty year-old car on a stocker track sounds about right to me. The paint scheme on the car is typical of vintage racers I have seen photos of from that era. The Girls dungarees, hat and glasses all appear to be Fifties vintage, as is the clothing of Cliff, the woman on the right (probably Mom) and the crowd in the background. Nothing special about the track-it does not appear to be clay, which could give it away as being in the South. It does not appear to be excessively oiled down, which may suggest it is good, moist soil, possible here in the Northeast, or maybe the Northwest.

Cliff seems pretty happy-one can assume by his toothy grin and trophy he has won SOMETHING. My experience at races on the backwoods tracks here in Pennsyvania teaches me that generally only first-place winners pose for photos. The size of Cliff's trophy, based on the same experience, tells me he has probably won a heat, although he may have possibly won his main for the evening.

Still, there's questions-where's Dad? Did he disapprove of Cliff's racing career, wanting him to work in the family hardware store or insurance business instead? Is Dad at the office right as this picture is being taken, mumbling to himself and harrumphing the loss of Cliff and his own insurance legacy to the God of Speed? Has Dad passed away? Was it while racing? No sponsorship is shown to suggest any support other than what Cliff has flocking him on either side. And yet, Cliff's hands are also clean-suggesting that either he has a mechanic, or on this night he had to do none of his own work on the car.

Cliff will have a place made for him in my bathroom with some other photos like his-Photos like this, unlabeled, always set my mind to work, thinking about just what happened on this warm (most likely)Saturday Night Somewhere in Time, Somewhere in America.

Felt up, poked, pried, prodded and pulled-still no "Happy Ending"!

2007-03-04T13:27:00.000-08:00

(My good friend and close neighbor Brian-he's big on Think, small on Stink, and just the man to help out-we used to shoot bb guns at each other, 25 years ago. Note his handmade "travel size" toolbox-this is just for going back and forth from my house to his, most likely)

("I SEE THE HEAD[LIGHTS]!-"Brian feels around Greta's innards to see if she's ready to birth a new SLK)

We took the advantage of a relatively decent Sunday afternoon to work on Greta's incontinence problem-that is to see where the source of her coolant leak is hiding out. I enlisted the help of my good friend and close neighbor Brian, who is exactly the kind of guy you want on this job short of a certified Benz Mechanic-Brian can look at a bolt and tell you what it's made of, the maximum torque allowed, and whether or not it's reverse-threaded before even cleaning the grease off of it. He can fabricate almost anything out of almost anything, has welding, machining, and carpentry skills, and is entertaining to boot. He likes to get out of the house on a good weekend, and this was a perfect excuse for him.

(first thing we do is cut the ties off all the vacuum lines-a Benz is FILTHY with vacuum lines under the hood-everything runs off vacuum it seems)

(Next step is to remove all the little clips holding the radiator and fan shroud in place)

(turn your head to the side for this one, note ground at bottom left, which should be TOP left in photo...the REAR fan shroud separates from the FRONT...the fun is not quite out of this yet...but close.)

(Brian got tired of hearing my yelps as I banged my head on Greta's hood-so he made me put on additional safety equipment-this is what my life is reduced to....notice "rocket scientist" costume-a lab coat with "Raytheon Aerospace" embroidered on the pocket....the short bus is coming up the drive, just off camera...)

(for the sake of equal time, here's Brian trying on a new helmet at the Cycle World Show at the Jacob Javits Center in NYC last month. The Yuengling shirt is his uniform most days.)

([INSERT FAN JOKE HERE] Well, THERE'S my problem! one of them anyway...sigh...note $4 Advance Auto 8mm Allen wrench, being test-fitted. "SHE'S GOOD!")

The unseen news is that, like the fan, the radiator is damaged-I will have to shop out a suitable replacement. They start cheap, but you want at least an OEM-Spec replacement like a Behr, which has metal tubing INSIDE the angle fittings where your hoses bolt up. This prevents breakage at inopportune times, like in the desert. More later.

PROBLEM: "Check Wallet" light illuminated-how to fix?

2007-02-27T20:01:00.000-08:00

Awwwwwyeahhhh.....keepin' it real on the engineering tip, y'all.....

Well, My new fan/clutch is here-all dull plastic and metal. I was hoping, for my $325, it would light up, or play "Una Paloma Blanca"...no such luck, but it IS made by Sachs, and it IS made in Germany, which is the least I could ask it to be-no claptrap orphan from the Pacific Rim would be allowed in MY Blessed Teutonic Bitch. Automotive Eugenics are alive and well on 555 Oak Street. I know my posts are Greta heavy and you are saying "hey, jackass, what about all the cool other things you like to blog about?" Bear with me-it's been a weird trip the last few weeks, and I promise more on cool Craigslist finds, my Big Pile of Stuff, and the rest. For now, Greta IS a piece of 80s memorabilia, so lighten up.

If you happen to be a Mercedes owner, I cannot recommend MercedesShopForum parts store highly enough-easy to navigate, competitive pricing and fast ship-I only ordered two days ago and it's already here, with good communication the whole way-thanks guys.

Disaster!!

2007-02-26T01:16:00.000-08:00

I guess it had to happen-after a, shall we say "spirited" drive in Greta this past Thursday, her radiator fan assembly grenaded, sending shards of fan blade flying, severing a line off my radiator. Mind you, it has taken me this much time to figure it out-between the crappy weather, my inability to just crawl under the car like I used to, and the closely-installed components of the Mercedes cooling system, getting to the source was a problem. The leak may still be more than a line, to be honest the fan has to come out to be sure. Of course, there was a wee bit more bad news:

Those of you with properly adjusted monitors will notice a greenish cast to the coolant snowcone I made in my driveway. While this would, at first look, appear to be properly mixed, 50/50 consistency antifreeze/water blend, know this-Mercedes radiators are aluminum-therefore, they need coolant that is designed specifically for use with aluminum components. ANY green coolant is not an approved blend, and potentially disastrous for the cooling system. Mercedes factory coolant is a pale pink, and I would guess it's made from the blood of Black Forest Stags, like Jaegermeister...in actuality it is merely the "color code" for aluminum-friendly coolants-fortunately, a commercial alternative is available, as the factory stuff is $22 a gallon at your local friendly Mercedes dealer's parts counter, where the self-superior sneer was invented. Zerex, a popular consumer brand most of you have no doubt heard of (now owned by Valvoline Oil), offers its G-05 blend to help prevent aluminum corrosion. At eleven bucks it's half the cost of the identical stuff at the dealer-hell, it could even come out of the same tap at Zerex for all I know. For a guy unused to such things, it stings a little knowing the system was running on the wrong stuff for who knows how long. On the plus side, now I know, and can rectify the problem before any more damage is done.

Price on the fan assembly is about $325-not cheap, but actually not as bad as I thought considering the cost of some parts for my baby. I'll order this week and get a hand from my pal and neighbor Brian with the lifting and crawling-he's good that way.

What Old White Men do on the weekend, when they aren't rich and don't rule the world...

2007-02-17T12:18:00.000-08:00

This morning my father dragged me out of bed at an ungodly hour to witness an ice harvest-why? Because he's retired, that's why, and because I was oddly interested in seeing it as well.

So what is an ice harvest? Well, back before our refrigerators had their own LCD monitors and Tivo, refrigeration was a bit more primitive. Cooling of perishables was done by using an icebox, basically the predecessor of both the modern fridge AND picnic cooler. Blocks of ice were placed in the icebox to keep things cool until it melted. Like the milkman, the Iceman made deliveries door to door, originally in a horse-drawn wagon. Before electricity, this was it.

(Our friend Danny and The Old Man. The pained look on Danny's face are from his tears freezing to it. In a previous life these two clowns worked together-now, retired, the reunite for a heated (or cooled) bout of ice harvesting. Danny's been at it more than a day, however, evidenced by his Wool clothing-which stays warm even if you fall in the water.)

The harvest goes like so-when the ice is "ready", it is about 21 inches thick-that allows you to make a cube, or "cake" about 21 inches square, allowing you to place, as I recall, 481 cakes in the icehouse. The icehouse, basically a simple large shed, is insulated with sawdust in the walls, and the ice is covered with a thick hay, specially grown for the purpose-it's got a big hole running down the center of each strand, like a huge piece of Holofil insulation. This traps the air, and allows for greater insulating capability.

The ice is scored with a huge gas-powered circular saw on runners like a sled-it is a vicious-looking beast of a machine dating back to the 1920s. The ice is then hand-sawn the rest of the way through and floated up through a channel cut in the ice to the icehouse. there it is pulled up a metal and wooden track to the top of the shack, and dropped inside via a downward-aimed track, stacked, and covered.

(The ice goes in up the track, pulled by an antique Ford 8N tractor, and a series of counterweights and pulleys. Prior to that would have been horses or mules. Just after I snapped this photo, the ice let go and sent everyone scrambling. This is why people in the Early 20th Century died at 30 sometimes.)

(Speaking of potential early death, here's the ice saw. Somewhere between the blade edge and the frigid water below lies an unwritten Stephen King story. Note tapered hopper on top-ice or water is dropped in to cool the saw's four cylinders-the engine is by The Buda Company, The saw itself by Gifford-Wood, early 20th century vintage.)

(The saw's handiwork-when old white guys talk about scoring on Saturday, it has nothing to do with women I found out)

This event actually ends up in a large turnout-like many events, however, it seems the politicians and tourists show up after the real work is done. After the photo-ops and glad-handing, there is still work to be done, and these guys get right back to it.

(The Old Man, dispelling rumors of the onset of Retirement Wuss Syndrome-he smoked a couple tourists in the process-note his embarassing lead on the putz in the yellow Columbia coat and slip-ons.)

(I think this little girl's name was Lexi-she exhibited more balls than your average, off-the-shelf brass monkey, running the sharp, heavy iron cake hook up and down the steps of the ice house all on her own. I heard some mumblings about her being "too young", but nobody was stepping up to help her, and she wasn't asking. Of course it was all under her Dad's close supervision, who was one of the regulars, and pictured at right.)

(Some tools of the icehouse trade, at breaktime)

(I had a long chat with the gentleman who owns and restored this 2-horsepower, dual-use saw. It can saw logs, or, with the use of a special jig, saw ice. One of the best things about events like this is old guys who know more than you ever will about this stuff, but don't hesitate one second to tell you everything if you ask. Sometimes, they'll tell you if you don't ask, too...)

2007-02-12T12:01:00.000-08:00

KID, YOU'RE GONNA BE IN PICTURES!

After a short drive and some talking with Scott, A Columbia Film School student director, Greta nailed the part for his upcoming film! She didn't even have to pull her hood up. We talked a bit about movies, exchanged cards, and set early March as a time for shooting. She got so excited she squirted a little diesel on the ground....ok, she does that all the time....but it was
exciting.

She will be playing the part of a professional hitman's vehicle, and will have a fair amount of screen time, as well as her name in the credits! I will probably have mine in as well, as "Mercedes Wrangler"-I hope...All in all a great day for us both, and we celebrated by topping 100 MPH on route 33 on the way home-she's steady as a rock at any speed, the old girl. More later on the big production.

2007-02-09T10:47:00.000-08:00

How DIY Car Repair Relates to The Cuban Missile Crisis

Well, now that's much better-after some cleaning, new tires, State Inspection, and a front end Alignment, 'ol Greta is really starting to shape up nicely. I took the opportunity of a warm February day to snap a few pics for two reasons 1) I wanted to chart my progress as I went along in this resto-mod; and 2) Greta may have a part in a film! I found a film student on Craigslist who needed a Luxury Import of her vintage for his senior thesis project. As we speak I am waiting to hear from him with the final word. The cleanup has really been a boost to both our egos-as I had mentioned before, she is far from perfect but everyone can benefit from a bath.

This past week I also took the opportunity to replace her Hazard switch-her previous one had become all squiddley and soft for some reason, and did not seem to, well, switch anymore. I decided to pull her dash apart and see what gives behind the panel.

First step was to remove the wood panel. As I love to frequently mention, on a Mercedes this is REAL WOOD. it is a thin layer of Zebrano (Zebrawood) veneer over an aluminum panel. Mercedes uses some ultra thick varnish or epoxy-type finish to make it appear to be a mile thick, but is actually a mere fraction of an inch over the top of the aluminum. Unfortunately, this finish, over time, cracks and can often take the veneer along with it. While the panel over my hazard switch is ok, it is a bit dingy with some ground in finger dirt and oil from years of changing the Climate Control.

(Looks like they glue the veneer on and stain it-note brown "chips" of stain, flaking off from behind the aluminum bezel)

Upon pulling out the switch (very easy as it is simply straight pins that connect to the panel), I decided to try looking inside it to see what may have happened. I came from a generation of kids, growing up in the 80s, with computers and a gradually increasing flow of cheap import electronics in every home. We were just unafraid, I guess, to touch a button just to see what would happen. My theory was that my parents, having grown up at the beginning of the Cold War, associated buttons with annihilation more than we did, and were therefore doomed to have their lives "flashing at 12:00" forever, so to speak...Meanwhile, growing up with movies like "Wargames" and "Tron", we learned early that hacking in any form was cool, and that true ownership was knowing a device's construction and operation. It is this spirit that has me still pulling things apart at age 37 despite being able to afford to have someone else fix things for me.

So, I carefully pried the switch rocker off the rest of it and got this:

I'd love to have a poster of the phrase "well THERE's your problem"-written in every language, for my garage-I think it would sell millions if someone would just take a few hours to translate the phrase and Photoshop one up....it has to truly be a universal saying among mechanics when the obvious is seen. If you are staring in confusion, there should only be ONE red plastic piece-the smaller one has cracked and come off the little spring in the center of the big red piece. So, with some patience (which I am always on the lookout for, as I am lacking), about 50 cents worth of Super Glue or it's dollar store equivalent, and maybe a small vise clamp, I could probably have saved myself a little money-but seeing as how I got a replacement for about $7 used off Ebay, I'm not complaining. Plus I can most likely fix this, rub off the little hazard icon off and label it as an ejection switch. What would that icon be? most likely a primitive profile of a car, with a seat just above the roofline-would there be little lines showing motion? would there be an outline of a human in said seat? I wonder.

Wilkommen Mein Greta!

2007-01-25T13:01:00.000-08:00

And so the Circle of Life continues...you are looking at the first pics of my new/old ride, a 1987 Mercedes Benz 300D Turbo, whom I have affectionatley christened "Greta"-how I came about owning her is a look into my psyche and a testament to the miracle that is the Internet.

(Greta bravely weathers her first Pennsylvania snowfall.)

First, however, a word of advice-ALWAYS give your cars a name-it's simply good Karma, or in this case, Car-Ma. When your car has a name, it can take on a personality. If it has a personality, you can learn to deal with the nuances of it's personality.

When you are in the corporate world, you learn how to handle interoffice relationships by reading books like "Dealing with Difficult People". With cars, you read Chilton's, Haynes, or Clymer's manuals instead (or those by Robert Bentley if you are smart and one is available). If your car is giving you trouble, there's a good chance it's because you have treated it poorly, and it is showing you how you have hurt it's feelings. Leaking fluids are often just like tears, their various colors showing you what kind of mistreatment you may have caused. Some cars cry because they fear old age, or from memory of abuse from a previous owner. Sometimes cars, like babies (Or some of the psychotic ex-girfriends I have had) cry "just because". It is your job as a good parent to find out why, and to remedy the situation.

When stuck for a name, the default is to use my criteria in order to find one that seems to fit. Here I will generously offer it for free (normally a $150/hr value). The above paragraph should leave no doubt as to why I gave Greta a girl's name, but there is more to it than that. First off, she's German-I will most likely get the snappiest response from her if she knows I am talking to her ("GRETA! SCHNELL!" as I chase some graying mullet-bearer in an ancient Trans Am). Second, she's old-"Greta", therefore is more appropos than the sexier, though still Teutonic "Heidi". "Heidi" is a new BMW 325ic, not a 20 year-old, drab diesel sedan. So, nationality is a good place to start. Honda or Toyota owners have endless choices, most ending in vowels. Volvos and Saabs can use some of the same names as their German counterparts, or the names of the members of Abba. If you are dumb enough to drive a Renault in this country, a French name is de rigeur (not to mention the national flag, a plain white surrender rectangle, fastened to the antenna). A Jag or Vauxhall is easily tagged with Nigel or Clive, as many of the female names are interchangeable on both sides of the pond (though "Fergie" is a good bet). Your favorite Spice Girl or Pink Floyd member is also a good choice. DeLoreans could technically be named Irish or American. You will know, however, in a very short period of ownership, however, if your car is male or female. This whole arguement does not apply to trucks, whose plastic testicles are often seen hanging from their rear differential here in the US, leaving no doubt as to gender.

Meanwhile, back to Greta. Greta was born, and took her first steps as I was completing my junior year of high school. If cars aged at the same speed as humans, at her 20 years I'd be robbing the cradle, and most likely the envy of all my male friends. Since, however, cars have a tendency to show their age at a much more accelerated rate, Greta is more like a MILF with self-confidence issues, in need of an Extreme Makeover. As such, my friends instead think I am nuts.

(Around here, you only roll with bulletholes if they are REAL-these will have to go)

As I have been known to make the occasional bad automotive decision, this is not an unfair conclusion, but know this-Greta was acquired not through purchase but trade, and therefore any fiduciary judgments are hereby null and void. Moreover, she was traded for an OLDER motorycycle (albeit my beloved Satanic Scoot, the '84 Honda V65 Magna), so technically I'm trading UP. Finally, she is still a Mercedes, a product of superior engineering by very uptight, regimented people who smoke a little too much and make really weird porno (though much of that argument can be said of the Japanese as well).

I found Greta on Craigslist-the great clearing house of the internet. She resided in Toms River, New Jersey, in the possession of a truly great character named Carl. Carl personifies the likeable brand of Jerseyite to me-A bit loud, fast talking, and funny as hell. A tree trimmer laid off for the winter months, He conned his wife and son, along with the family dog, to drive the 2.5 hours to my hometown of Stroudsburg to show me the car. I recall him mentioning the promise of dinner and our infamous outlet shopping as his bribe to them.

He was looking for a bike in trade, and since my back injuries have left my motorcycling future in question for the time being, the bike was really only taking up space and collecting dust. Carl said he had had it with offers of ancient wrecks with no titles, hauled out from under porches and out of lakes to be offered up against his car. After all, he had done a fair amount of work in his short ownership period (Greta had been given to him to pay off a debt, not unlike some third world men have done with their wives, I suppose).

Carl had the right answers to a lot of my questions-I had done some research prior to even considering Greta. Some of it was courtesy of fellow blogger Mr. Jalopy, a great amateur mechanic and owner of an '87 300TD (the wagon version of Greta). The rest was gleaned off various forums of owners and enthusiasts.

For example, Greta had he original-equipment Becker cassette still installed. Becker is not known for great stereo, but they are decent, and original equipment in Mercedes as well as some other German models. It's existence in Greta's dash was a good indicator the audio wiring was unmolested. The next question, however was obvious-her power Hirschmann antenna was broken, and a ten-dollar rubber ducky was in it's place. Mercedes has a recommended lubricant for the Hirschmann, and an original antenna is usually evidence it was used, and again, proof of careful maintenance.

Her condition was 50/50-from fifty feet away at fifty miles an hour she looked damned good. But the ratio translated to other aspects of her. She was blessed with straight and un-corroded sheetmetal, but some budding Chip Foose had poorly sprayed her with a coat of pseudo Anthrazitgrau, covering her weatherstripping along the doors, as well as her body trim. Her interior carpets were surprisingly in good condition, though her front seat upholstery was copiously taped. Many of the normally nagging high-mileage issues were absent, though some others took their place.

Nonetheless, after a test-drive, I was in love. Carl was equally smitten with my bike, and a deal was made. A few days later he arrived with Greta on a trailer, being pulled laboriously by a late 90's Jeep Grand Cherokee. Paperwork was traded, chains were loosened, tie-downs secured and the Honda was on her way to a new home.

As Greta undergoes her slow, deliberate transformation, I will keep you apprised of her progress.

RIP The Big Old Car...

2007-01-25T12:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I guess we all have to go sometime. My beloved 1994 Mercury, AKA Auntie, has gone to the big junkyard in the sky. A rusted out torsion box was the cause-unable to be welded, she was parked for the last time. In a final act of defiance, she refused to start (dead battery) for her funeral procession to Sibum's Auto Parts in Stroudsburg. It's a shame, especially since the picture you see here is pretty much how she looked on her last ride, sans hubcaps of course (soon to be available on Ebay).

Auntie had given me many a good run-from home to Mechanicsburg and back, picking up surplus at the Naval Assist Facility, down to Philadelphia for shows at the TLA, into Jersey and NYC for various events and meetings. I will miss her deeply but life goes on, and soon the circle will again be completed.

Auction goodies...

2007-01-09T19:26:00.000-08:00

I scored a ton of stuff a while back at an estate auction-with everything else going on, I am just getting to go through everything. I had only intended to walk away with a hand-carved tiki statue (at left, something of a rarity here on the cold, rainy East Coast), but the lure of the box lots, like a siren's call, drew me to my ultimate doom-but only for a buck.

For the uninitiated, let me start at the beginning. In the state of Pennsylvania there seems to be two ways to do estate auctions. FIrst is to have an auction company come and take all the merchandise away, and sell it off the block at their auction house. Far more exciting is the on-site auction, where treasure can be seen as it is hauled out of the nooks and crannies of some ancient house in the deep woods.

As a high school senior I had the opportunity to work for an auction company as a runner-it was here I learned most of the good, and bad, behaviors of my adulthood. Good, in that I learned never to be intimidated by a three-hundred-plus-pound dealer who has his heart set on something we are both bidding on, as he glowers menacingly (a dealer usually only bids to half a given item's value, so the collector nearly always wins in such a showdown). Bad, because I learned to packrat stuff (now known by the politically-correct name Colyer's syndrome, a genuine CONDITION, wow!), and also learned to be a cheap bastard. In general, however, I did learn the value of things and the sheer amount of stuff one human can accumulate in a lifetime. I also learned short of fresh produce and groceries, there is really no need to shop anywhere but yard sales, flea markets, and auctions.

Back to my ton of stuff-I took a day to visit an on-site auction with my friend and sometimes-attorney, Chad. He had seen a set of barrister's bookcases he wanted to look over advertised in the paper. I, having been through the gauntlet of auctions before, decided to go along to help run interference, and because I had not been to one in a long while.

I was pleased to find that the auction company was my old alma mater! I made the rounds and said hello to my old cronies, and grabbed a seat on the front lawn. The previous homeowner had been a military officer in WWII, and had, apparently, spent some time after the war in Europe-souvenirs of every description were displayed. Old uniforms, china, hand carved statues, books, photos, and trunks full of items yet to be discovered.

When Chad's bookcase came up, he balked-Chad, you must know, is as cheap as a $2 watch. Since his girlfriend is due to move in soon, he needs to class up the joint, and the bookcase was just the thing. I started bidding for him when he dropped off, citing that he would thank me later. In the end, he scored a beautiful unit (one of two for sale) for just $375-anyone who knows the pricing of these knows twice as much is not uncommon in some areas of the country. He looked at me with uncertainty and I gave him a "just trust me" look back.

As an auction draws to a close, box lots begin to go up for sale-these are as the name suggests-boxes of items too numerous or of too little value to go over the auction block individually. A lot can be one or more boxes, and it is here you can often find some great deals.

Having done this before, I quickly reaquainted myself with my favorite dealers of days past, and introduced them to Chad. Eric, my favorite dealer, actually once worked with me in my UPS days, and looked as if he hadn't changed-long, unkept hair under a knit hat, scraggly beard tied at the bottom with rubber bands like Captain Lou Albano of wrestling fame, and a constant smile. Eric had taught me a lot about antiques, probably more than two straight guys like us should know. We quickly began digging through the boxes, looking for anything the auctioneers had missed of value. Chad spotted a few things in a lot Eric was interested in-they began to debate, neither one wanting to give up what they were interested in, lest mention of it build value to the other. Once they realized they were interested in different things, they agreed to let Eric bid, and he would simply sell Chad what he wanted out of the lot.

Now, of course, this behavior is actually considered illegal in the state, something about conspiracy or something. But, like whistling on a Tuesday in some towns, it's not usually enforced unless you are dumb enough to speak up in front of the auctioneer. Both Eric and Chad were smart, however, and got away with what they wanted for less than $5 a piece.

I had bid on a lot of books-TONS of books, all with interesting titles relating to witchcraft and the occult. I got outbid, but later found the buyer was only interested in a few glass items in one box-he told me to take all the books I wanted, so I took them all. Great move, as I found in with them "The Practical Handyman's Encyclopedia".

(At one time in America, the average adult male usually had a set of do-it-yourself encyclopedias on his hand-made bookshelf or workbench-this set is my second, the first being a Popular Mechanics set from the Fifities)

Now, I am a sucker for old handyman books for several reasons-one, as a lover of vintage ephemera, you can often get great plans for furniture and the kinds of gadgetry and ingenuity you just don't see anymore. Two, it's a great "slice of life" kind of journey, back to a time when every suburban male seemingly had a drill press, lathe, and table saw at hand to make or repair whatever he needed.

The Encyclopedia was no different, with plans for everything from small fishing boats to vacation homes and everything in between. Volume 9, however, proved to be the Rosetta Stone of Handyman-dom. For a whopping 36 pages, there is an entire section devoted to HOT RODDING. Not auto repair, not painting your car under your home-made carport, but honest-to-goodness HOT RODDING.

(Think the compact craze is new? Think again! Rodders were taking advantage of the lighter-weight small cars (for the time) and turbocharging back in the Sixties)

Back in the early days of hot rodding, there was a nearly direct line to aircraft engineering in relation to performance. The early rodders, some of them pilots or aircraft mechanics during WWII, applied some of what they had learned to their race cars. Streamlining and Turbocharging were two things directly descended from aircraft design-The latter allowed a plane to achieve better horsepower at high altitudes, letting an adequate amount of combustible air to the cylinders of the engines. When applied to early race cars, a significant power increase was realized on the ground, and both turbo and super-charging are still used today. Early salt flats or dry lakebed racers were also often constructed from the large auxilliary fuel tanks attached to the bellies of long-range bombers during the war. These "Belly Tank Racers" were among the fastest on the perfectly flat surface of Bonneville and other dry lake beds.

(Forget Old Skool-this is the First School-the So-Cal Speed Shop Belly Tank Lakester in 1949, turning a speed of nearly 140mph. Photo Courtesy of So-Cal Speedshop website)

(So-Cal Speed Shop founder/owner Alex Xydias poses with the recently restored Lakester at El Mirage dry lake bed. The car currently resides at the Petersen Automotive Museum in LA. Photo Courtesy of So-Cal Speed Shop website)

All in all a great haul-stay tuned for more on projects from the encyclopedias as the blog rolls on.

More Craigslist Gold!

2007-01-09T18:07:00.000-08:00

Another great Craigslist find-a 1920s British-made board track racing motorcycle frame! Tank and wheel are not correct, but look at that springer front end! No price listed, and I'm afraid if I call I'll buy the damned thing.

Back in the early part of the 20th Century, velodromes (cycling tracks) dotted the landscape, and cycling was a much more popular sport than it is today, save for, say, Europe. It was only a matter of time until these tracks would become the domain of motorcycles (having evolved from bicycles anyway). Speeds above 100mph were recorded, and the racing was extremely dangerous. The bikes were started by pulling them with another motorcycle-they were geared so high there was really no other way to start them. Once rolling, the rider relied on his body language to steer and control the bike, as it was balls-to-wall at full throttle with NO BRAKES.

As a result, accidents were common, as were deaths, not only of riders but of spectators. Multiple-death accidents eventually spelled the end for the 'dromes, and many were dismantled as other forms of track racing became the norm.

The only photos of a board track race known to exist-photos courtesy of www.daheim.com

I look at this frame and I can't imagine doing 100 on a board track with it-100 on my Magna is scary enough WITH brakes...

NEAT-O!!!

2006-11-06T20:41:00.000-08:00

There probably aren't too many of you out there who will appreciate this-not only is it a go-kart (and I mean "go-kart" not the slick "karts" of today with racing engines and four-figure price tags), it has a body. NOT ONLY is it a body, but a vintage Dodge Van body! I can totally see this guy with a vintage-style custom airbrush mural, maybe a Beastmaster theme, or some other Frazetta-inspired work. a nice roof wing to go with and Bob's your uncle, as the Brits say. The asking price is $450 on Craigslist locally here in the Poconos, a bit high for my taste but who knows what offers the guy might take....

Finally got those photos...

2006-10-10T12:29:00.000-07:00

Remember a few posts back when I mentioned the Bell insurance adjuster photos? Well, after some long screwing with my scanner, resisting a strong urge to drop kick it, I finally managed to get things going the way I wanted. The above photo is the first of them-anyone having a Ford van like this one (minus the wreckage) let me know.

On second thought, maybe I don't want an old van...

$1 toolbox nears completion...

2006-09-25T18:03:00.000-07:00

As you can see, things look quite different with my one-dollar auction toolbox. A fresh coat of Rustoleum Hammered Finish paint is the most obvious, in stunning "Hurst" gold. This paint is a great lazy man's finish for nearly any kind of metal, since the naturally occurring ripples cover flaws in the underlying finish nicely. Very little prep short of scuffing with a Scotchbrite-type pad is necessary. the handle and hardware were removed and then re-installed with nuts and bolts replacing the rivets. I should have popped out the latches, note gold paint on top of them. I'll most likely pop them out, blast them and paint them black to match everything else. It was kind of hard without a ninety-degree attachment for my drill. My vintage Hurst decal is a bit disappointing in that it's not adhering, But I do like it, so I'm going to use one of my many fine adhesives to re-attach it. Combine that with a few other vintage or vintage-type decals, and she's ready to be filled and put in the trunk of the Merc for the time being.

In defense of the Big Old Car...

2006-09-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

I drive a big, old car-I didn't always, however. My choices of the last ten years or so have gravitated around the small, fuel-efficent japanese models, particularly Honda Accords. I've owned five, and they are without a doubt the best cars I've had up to this point, and I've owned a lot. Due to a low boredom threshold, I average a new (to me) car every eighteen months or so-realize this average is partially due to a string of VERY crappy cars in my youth. My ownership periods have gone way up since switching to the Hondas.

As I have mentioned briefly in previous posts, I have a nagging back injury incurred in December of '05-basically 1200 pounds worth of telephone pole crushed five of my thoracic vertebrae, three ribs and my sternum, while simultaneously boogering up my left shoulder to some degree. I began to find it difficult to get in and out of my low-slung Accord as a result, and the relatively lively suspension, one of the things I previously loved about Hondas, began to be a source of pain with each and every Pennsylvania pothole (assumably, five per mile is a state law). I decided I needed a bit larger and softer vehicle. My justification at the outset, beside the obvious, was that being laid-up equals less driving, ergo, less fuel burned and savings regardless of vehicle-sounded good to me anyway.

As luck would have it, my close friend George had a 1994 Mercury Grand Marquis he was looking to get rid of-it had been his great aunt's car, before she had reached that age where driving becomes dangerous for the elderly driver and everyone nearby. He had only put a few miles on it personally, and was as meticulous with maintenance as Aunt Anne, which fortunately, is on par with my level of maintenace. It was partially due to this I bought the car without needing a mechanic to check it. I tend to buy from people I know, and i have only been sorry once, but that's another story. The final deal-maker was the price-just $400. Of course this is the "friend discount" as George and do each other favors on a weekly basis, and he had nothing into the car since it had been a gift.

As I took some time to drive the car, some things began to become apparent-first of all, the chassis and suspension this Merc (and the sister car, the Ford Crown Victoria) is built on is suprisingly nimble for a large car-no, it's not my Honda, but it didn't feel like Uncle Bill's 1975 Cadillac either. I can make my way through traffic and in and out of parking spaces without feeling like Captain Stubing, and believe it or not, I can average as much as 25mpg on the highway, just two mpg less than my 1994 Accord. Parts are plentiful and cheap, due to the sheer numbers of this car out there. While I have had to put some additional money into it, it has been for wear parts like brakes, and universal joints devoid of grease fittings (one of my pet-peeves of cars of the last 20 years or so). Anything less than a car payment each month, spent on maintenance, is a bargain in my book. This chassis platform has pretty much replaced the late Checker Marathon as the primary NYC taxi, and reports of up to 400,000 miles are not uncommon out of the 4.6 liter V8 engine. Truthfully, take care of any car and you can expect at least 200,000 miles if your maintenance is regular and you don't drive like a Japanese drift racer.

Another thing that became apparent was the ROOM-I had forgotten how much room I had sacrificed for smallness and fuel-efficiency in the past. My last big car had been my late grandfather's '74 Plymouth Satellite, a big beast of a car with four doors, huge V8 and bench seats. I guess maybe it was that nostalgia that helped me adapt to the bigness of my Merc. As frequent road trippers, my friends will chip in for gas, knowing the Merc will be the most comfortable ride out of all our automobiles, ranging from an '07 Honda Fit belonging to my friend Big Brain, to various Asian small sedans, Ford Explorers and even Stiffy's WRX. In spite of the recent highway robbery on the part of the oil monopoly, the Merc hauls five in comfort, and six in a pinch with the 50/50 front seat-all without breaking our collective bank. It's great for weddings and funerals, as everyone can ride without wrinkling their finery too much. I keep it in good shape aesthetically as well, so that it is as presentable as a later model. I'm not fooling anyone-it's an old car, but a 12-year old car can look as nice as a one-year-old car, and a new car can look as if someone has wiped their ass with it. No one other than my last girlfriend has ever been ashamed to ride in it, and I figured if it mattered, we were better off apart anyway.

The final thing my car has been able to do for me is reduce my automotive fleet, which has numbered as much as 4 cars at once plus motorcycles in the past. I currently keep a truck and the Merc, but the large engine of the Merc will allow me to pull a small trailer for bikes and such, and I can ditch the pickup. Sure, I will miss the 4wd this winter, but if the weather is that bad, do I REALLY want to be on the road? Plus, when I do return to work, my job is a mere three miles from home, so I can snowshoe it if need be. I'm sure I'll find some other vehicle I will fall in love with and build the fleet back up, but with not being able to move anything in and out of the truck (including myself some damp days), there's no sense in hanging on to it at this point.

Am I wrong here? Comments are welcome.

Full disclosure on the Big Pile of Stuff...

2006-08-24T08:43:00.000-07:00

In my previous post, I mentioned the Big Pile of Stuff-I then realized I'm the only guy privy to what the Hell it is.

When my grandfather passed away a few years ago, he did not have much to leave us save for his tools, acquired over his eighty-some years on this rock. For whatever reason, they were kept at my grandmother's new house until she passed away this year. Since my brother should not hold tools for the same reason he should not hold a gun or drive a car (but does anyway), my cousin Matt, an engineer (the dirty-hands kind, best there is) and I divvied up the stuff.

Having worked estate auctions as a kid, it's interesting to view the progression of time as it pertains to a man's tools. You see the progression of tool technology, a man's need for things as his life progresses, and marketer's ideas of "good ideas" that never quite made it.

What do I mean? Well, Pap was a boilermaker-tough as nails. All his older stuff is rough-hewn, rusty, and some of it handmade. He had more time than money at first, so he would make the wrenches and jigs he needed as needed. As time goes on, you see he was able to afford better stuff, and The Pile reflects that. Even newer was the stuff like the Screwball, one of those ratcheting screwdrivers that you use by twisting the plastic sphere. I mention it because he had surgery on his right arm twenty years ago, and the tool was to help him keep at working despite a loss of supination strength in his wrist.

It's truly a timeline of a man's life to look at his tools...I think I'll post some of the finds, there's some pretty neat shit here.

Tool box progress...

2006-08-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

Well, Craftsman Toolbox v.2.0 is progressing-I have laid a few coats of paint down, painted most of the hardware, and have picked out my entire color scheme. I was going to go for more of the same-a silver or pewter hammer tone, and merely cleaning up the hardware a bit. Then it hit me-that would not be me..so I opted for Gold hammer tone, and I will be adding some black and orange striping to accent everything. My inspiration was a Hurst decal I came across in the Big Pile of Stuff. It should look a little like the Hemi Under Glass when I am done with it. No pics yet, not 'til I'm done.

One-Dollar Toolbox!

2006-08-21T16:32:00.000-07:00

A recent estate auction netted me this sweet Craftsman toolbox for a buck-I really shouldn't even say that-I got the toolbox, a set of metal car ramps, and a big bone saw for a buck (deer season approaches). It amazes me what people will and won't bid on. The deceased was a collector of these neo-Native American handicrafts and figures (horrid!), and people were snapping those up. They could barely give away the tools and other "good stuff". I have another find I'll be posting soon, hate to keep it a secret but it's worth the wait, trust me.

The toolbox is in the process of being sanded down for a coat of Hammerite paint and most likely Plasti-Dipping or painting of the handles and clasps. I'll post a photo when I get it done.

Secret Agent Garbage...

2006-08-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it just pays to go around the block-As I was pulling into my driveway Tuesday, I noticed a table set up in my neighbor's yard. On it was a pile of treasure, at least to me, with a sign that said "FREE-Help Yourself! I had pulled the car up to the table since I still can't walk that far with my back injury. So, I simply popped the trunk and carefully loaded up the light stuff. It was mostly vintage camera gear, which was cool enough, but the absolute coolest find was this like new, still in the box with papers Aiwa handheld reel-to-reel tape recorder! This thing looks like it is right out of Mission:Impossible! Everything is there, including the original cloth bag of dessicant. I'm going to drop some fresh batteries in and see what may be on the tape, maybe some Cold War-era spy messages-but more than likely, somebody's Birthday or Dictation notes...Still, very cool, hard to find, and FREE.

UPDATE: I sold this guy on Ebay for 30 bucks! Gotta love it....

Das Awksch Fest!

2006-08-05T19:42:00.000-07:00

Ahhh, August-searing heat, unpredictable precipitation, and fair and festival season. I spent the day at Das Awksch Fest (The August Festival) in Macungie, PA. The opressive hot weather of the past week mercifully subsided, and we were able to walk the fest in relative comfort.

For the uninitiated, Awksch Fest is a combination antique toy and car show, as well as car parts flea market-everything any worthwhile suburban junkyard needs. I have been unable to attend the show the last few years, and the last time I was there, I had no money anyway. This year I took the folks-The Old Man is currently blowing our inheritance on cast metal toys. (More power to him, it's not about money with me anyway). My brother, who knows about as much about cars as the average Mall Queen, also decided to roll along. Yes, I am able to enjoy a day with my family, who knew...

Just a sampling of the antique goodies available at one of dozens of tables at the show.

I was at least a little disappointed in one aspect-finally flush with a respectable amount of cash, I did not see many of the 80s toys I had lusted after from the last show-Micronauts, GI Joe, Mobile Action Command and the like-we tried to determine why this may have been. Mom suggested maybe the increasing popularity of Ebay. I added that maybe the actual or perceived affluence of my generation had taken many once available toys off the market, in one fell swoop of adult overcompensation. Nonetheless, there were plenty of opportunities to smile and say to anyone within earshot "I had that!" when a familiar toy emerged from the enless tangle of goodies.

I was in search of some vintage racing photos-I am currently covering the gross green paint job in my bathroom with framed photos until I am physically able to paint again. I am a photography enthusiast anyway, and I figured a neat collection of diverse photos would give the average bathroom visitor some, ah, inspiration...Plus it would look like Ruby Tuesday or Cracker Barrel would, if theft weren't an issue. I managed to find one nice dirt track photo, plus the unexpected-SIX copies of insurance claim photos from New Jersey Bell, dating to the Sixties! Let me explain my excitement. I am currently an employee (albeit injured and on comp) of a major telecommunications company. As a result, one of my favorite collectible photo genres is phone company vehicles, particularly of the old Bell System variety. These photos can be tricky to find, but to find shots of trucks and vans wrecked in the line of duty is nearly the Holy Grail for me. I got six for thirty bucks, which I split with The Old Man (he's a Bell retiree and collector of memorabilia as well). I'll put some up when I get them scanned.

Two guys I couldn't get to move check out a vintage Pontiac that looked as if it had been dipped in ink...gorgeous...

The car show had the usual suspects-plenty of vintage Chevys and Fords, as well as a few choice Mopars and the errant oddball marque. What's nice about Macungie is you get a wide sampling-everything from Stanley Steamers to vintage work trucks are represented, and everything in between. I got some nice Mopar pics for Brain, who is a diamond-star freak. WAY TO TELL YOU ARE AGING, ITEM 1-your high school ride is entered in the show and is NOT considered a classic. Some nut had entered his shit brown, 1981 Ford Fairmont in the show. I had one of these in high school-it was affectionately known as The Turd. Brown with matching brown vinyl top, she could carry ten offensive linemen in a pinch and two half-kegs of beer with the trunk closed. She had an indestructable Pinto motor and racy buckets out of a Mustang. I had my first girl in my Turd, and I look back at her fondly-the car, I mean.

A neat vintage rod.

Fuel Injected Chevies in 1957? The guys milling around said it was true, and the old man said it was notoriously unreliable.

As the day wore on, we got sunburned and my back began to bark, but I had recieved my annual fill of cool toys, cooler junk, and old car smell. Despite this, I can't wait until next year.

Seat belt Lawn Chair...

2006-07-29T13:46:00.000-07:00

I still like the old-style aluminum folding lawn chairs-to me, as a bigger guy, they are much more comfortable than the new collapsible camp-style chairs being sold today. However, the old plastic or vinyl replacement webbing is nearly impossible to find, and if you are lucky enough to find it, it may be in no better condtion than what you are trying to replace. I had picked up a roll of seat belt webbing at the flea market for a few bucks, and after seeing handbags woven from it in magazines, I decided I might try to re-web one of my vintage chairs. The result is better than I expected, plus the webbing is stronger and much more comfortable than the plastic stuff. No pinched leg hairs or sticking to it in hot, humid weather! My guess is it will last forever as long as i keep it out of the rain.

If you can't get a roll of this stuff, troll your local "u-pull" junkyard for seat belts. I don't think they can sell them complete for safety reasons, so just cut the webbing with EMT shears or sharp scissors. You should be able to get it for a song. Pull the belts ALL THE WAY OUT and cut as close to the retracting reel as possible so you get as much of it as you can. I would estimate about four cars worth of belts should be more than enough to cover your chair. This stuff is super useful for lots of other things as well.

Look closely at your chair-if it still has the original webbing, examine how it is put on, it's pretty simple. Take a digital photo for reference, just in case you forget. You may want to replace the often-rusty screws with new ones also. Take your time and the results will surprise you. I also took a lighter and singed the cut ends so they would not fray, and singed the holes I drilled for the same reason. You can probably use a leather punch for holes as well. DON'T BURN YOURSELF ON THE HOT, SCORCHED WEBBING! Let it cool after singeing it, it's just like melted plastic until the temperature drops, and will stick to you like napalm.

For racing fans, you can attach a set of shoulder straps, complete with buckles to strap yourself in at races and to keep someone from stealing your chair when you get up! You can also use alternating colors, I just used this blue because I had a huge amount of it. Remember there is tan, gray, maroon or burgundy in addition to good old black for mixing and matching. I also remember the Pontiac Sunfire perhaps having bright red as well as an aqua "moon rock" color in the mid 90s (?) Do your favorite team colors or match the rest of your patio furniture. Black and Tan (for beer drinkers) would look good I think, as well as blue and Maroon (looks like the Gemini space program to me somehow). I think these lawn chairs are comfortable enough to use inside if company comes and you need extra seating, at Superbowl or holiday time.

You can also use this procedure for old, Mid-Century Modern-styled folding chaises and chairs-some of them were originally slung with webbing, or woven with macrame' type patterns and twine. A cheap flea-market wooden chaise or folding chair could yield a masterpiece... Go nuts, have fun.

UPDATE: A search of Ebay yielded new webbing in every color of the rainbow...it's not as cool to buy new if you ask me, but if you need to match with colors like orange or safety yellow, this is the way to go I guess.

Government Surplus...

2006-07-29T12:11:00.000-07:00

For me, it started with an ad in a magazine-maybe even a comic book. "Jeeps for $44 from the US Government!!" was the line. I imagined, as a teen, making more than enough mowing lawns all summer to afford a four-wheel-drive vehicle to show up with on the first day of my sophomore year of high school. I imagined myself taking friends, and more importantly, girls, on long weekend camping trips on the hundreds of acres of undeveloped land in my town and surrounding area. I would, like Magellan, discover yet-uncharted paradises in my own backyard.

There were the rumors, of course, the stuff of urban legend-the jeeps were sawed in half, as part of the demilitarization process-I'd have to weld it back together, I was told by more than one "wise" individual. Same went for the thousands of Harley Davidson Army motorcycles still allegedly crated up in a government warehouse somewhere (probably that big warehouse in "Raiders of the Lost Ark", where they stashed the Ark of The Covenant, I thought, and probably the Roswell UFO and the alien corpses...!!), I'd never get something pristine, there would have to be a catch.

As a young adult, I managed to track down the necessary numbers and addresses to contact the DRMO, the deparment responsible for government auctions. Back then, in the early 1990s, it was still a bit of a pain in the ass. You had to make some calls, write some letters, register as a bidder and eventually show up at the site and bid in person. I managed to get credentials for myself and my buddy Jason. Jason had a box truck for his business, which would let us no doubt haul home the infinite amounts of booty we would score. I imagined not only my jeeps, but flight helmets, aircraft parts, weapons, and God knows what else. You can imagine our disappointment to find at our local army base only desks, woefully outdated computers, the odd mismatched piece of canvas and acres and acres of impossible to identify field communications equipment. We never went back...as we drove out, sullen, I noticed for the first time all the military gear was being painted desert tan...."Hmm", I thought, "we must be getting ready to spend some time in the Middle East".

In 2006, it's the same, but different-the equipment has been painted green, and then tan again as we remain hunkered down in Iraq. My hometown is developed to the point of Suburbia with McMansions and the self-superior attitudes of their inhabitants... Jason has made himself wealthy over the last 15 years and traded his truck for a new Land Rover....

There are still government auctions, but luckily for me, they are as easy to register and bid on as Ebay. The only real catch is picking up your winnings. For me, however, that's all part of the fun.

I discovered Government Liquidation in one of my infinite threads of searching the web late one night. A blurb on another site mentioned it, and how easy it was to basically bid on and buy whatever the government was offerering. A quick hop over to www.govliquidation.com and I was registered to bid. I began to search the huge site-auctions are ongoing all the time, in every area of the country, including Hawaii and Guam.

You can find anything from a pop rivet (OK, 10,000 pop rivets maybe) to retired sea vessels, aircraft, and vehicles. The aircraft is demilitarized-you can buy an FA-18 Hornet, but it's gonna be darn well chopped up before you leave with it. Watercraft consists of everything from recreational rowboats to naval tugs, most still seaworthy. Vehicles are varied, from officer's staff cars to pickups, the diesel Blazers and Chevy trucks, to full size Deuce and a Half 6x6 trucks, on to loaders, forklifts, and airfield fire trucks. There are, however, still no jeeps, really-most military jeeps are long dead, or in the hands of civilian collectors. Occasionally, parts for them come up.

The Jeep's replacement, the HMMWV, or Hummer as we know it, is supposedly the center of a similar controversy and is never for sale. Story has it, American General, the Hummer's manufacturer, gave the military explicit instructions not to sell the vehicles through the DRMO-allegedly they felt a glut of HumVees on the market would take away buyers from their plus-$100,000 civilian Hummers. They have mostly been torch-cut in half like the jeeps of urban legend. That may soon change, as the military is rapidly in development to replace the HumVee, and American General has, I"ve been told, ceased production of the H1. Plan on seeing a bunch of military HumVees on the market soon. Some have snuck out, I've heard stories of less-than-honest soldiers driving them off base and taking them to the local pawn shop that buys vehicles with no title. I've seen them at military collector shows and on Ebay. But I still don't have my army jeep.

I have, however bid on things like digital projectors, welders, tools and automotive repair and diagnostic equipment, as well as good old surplus like uniforms and personal gear. My best find so far were two MIG wire welders I purchased for $50 a piece, that I sold for $600 a piece on Ebay. I have also made a brisk business of selling a few digital projectors for those building a home theater-why pay $600 for a $600 projector at Staples or Best Buy when you can buy a $21,000 projector from me for $300? I have my own personal home theater set up with a $4000 Sharp projector I paid less than $200 for-it works, and has worked great from day one.

Upon winning your item you have two choices-pick it up in person or have one of several shipping companies who work with Govermnent Liquidation pick it up, and ship it to you at your cost. This can all be done with nothing more than your PC and a phone. I buy from two bases, one just twenty minutes away, and the other about two hours. Provided you don't look of Middle Eastern descent or like Tim McVeigh's brother, a few pictures and your ID and signature are sufficient for clearance on the bases. I have used my pickup for some items, but most of what I buy is easily stored in my 1994 Grand Marquis's trunk.

How does this all relate to The Wasteland? Basically, for me, it's the world's largest online junkyard, another place to examine and potentially purchase the detritus of history, the forgotten flotsam and jetsam of the ages. A piece of aircraft may indeed have played a part in the space program, or an important military campaign. Something may have been purchased and sat, brand new, in a warehouse in anticipation of a conflict that never materialized. At the very least, it's a way to defray the cost of your taxes by purchasing top-grade merchandise at pennies on the dollar. But sorry, no Jeeps.

On Tupperware and the Age of Innocence...

2006-07-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

There is something about Tupperware that makes me very nostalgic-I can't entirely put my finger on it, but most likely it is due to it being in my life in one capacity or another since first consciousness.

My mom hosted a Tupperware party when we were kids-it was a big deal to hang out with the adults, even if it was just the ladies. My brother and I cleaned up at the "icebreaker" games-being the only males (albeit small ones), we were able to play "I never" (say something you've never done and everyone else loses a point, or at some parties, has to drink), with aplomb. Little did we know the ladies could have easily kicked out butts in equal fashion.

I remember Mom getting FREE STUFF just for hosting the party-some small containers, a burnt-orange marinader for the fridge (the hot Seventies color), and a green and white watering can, that featured a small nozzle and hose to reach those hard-to-get hanging plants in the corners of our house. It was due partly to this, I guess, that Tupperware became as much a part of my young life as the Sears Catalogue.

As I grew, I always, for some reason, found myself noting the Tupperware in other people's houses. Apple Green Servaliers, Dark Brown or Orange Canisters stacked neatly or side-by-side in ascending order of size, Jadeite lettuce keepers, colanders, and bread boxes, Yellow Snack Cups. A small replica of a blue mixing bowl on a ball chain is where my dime was kept to call home in an emergency (remember the dime phone call? and payphones?) Later I would use a Tupperware organizer to keep my model car paints, glues and tools in one place. Tupperware was on the canoe and camping trips (waterproof!!), road trips, parties, and graduation ceremonies, keeping the edible memories of youth just a little longer than Saran Wrap ever could.

Being a container junkie anyway (cases, cans, boxes, you name it), I love Tupperware as an adult as well. I scour the thrift stores for vintage pieces, grabbing them to start my own collection. I have most of what Mom did now, plus a bunch of those I thought were neat as a kid but were not in our household. I use the small snack cups to organize my lunch. I spend Sundays cooking for the week and filling Servaliers with one-pot dishes. I have the one-pound bacon keeper cause I hate that wrapping bacon comes in so much. I probably have too many-anyone with cool stuff to trade is welcome to make me an offer on my spares...

Is this some sick obsession I have? or is it that I just equate Tupperware to growing up the way some do a food item, a song, a vacation, or their home town? Maybe it's just me, but at least my lettuce is fresh.

The Life, and Death, of an iPod...

2006-07-24T13:31:00.001-07:00

I was one of the last to jump on the iPod train-I am not a huge fan of Mass-Appeal gadgets and "must-haves", mainly because I try to pride myself on not being easily coerced by advertising and marketing. Having just discovered the wonders of the Mac over my PC, however, I figured I could, at least, give the iPod a try and see what came of it, in the interest of integrating my lifestyle or whatever clever nonsequitur you want to throw at it.

I bought one off Ebay-Used, 20gb, white....I hate white. I shopped at every home improvement store in eastern Pennsylvania to find the right windows for my house, that being, ones that aren't white...I had to settle for brown exteriors with white insides...but I'm getting offtrack here...

The iPod is bliss-whether you have a Mac or PC, it seamlessly blends your music, picture and video collections thru iTunes. I found set-up to be a breeze even without any setup disk. I have added about half of my music collection (1754 songs thus far) and it had hardly put a dent in the iPod's 20 gigabyte storage drive.

Last night, while listening to a podcast, I had a problem-my "wheel" controller stopped working. I am not sure what the deal was, but I was like a junkie with no junk until I went out today and popped for the 30gb iPod Video-in BLACK. There may be a simple fix for my last one, but I am too hooked to wait around...anyone have any ideas? I'm all ears.

Garage Sale Saturday!

2006-07-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

So I went garage saling (sailing? lol) today. I can't tell you how long it's been! I managed to hit about seven or so before the rain started, all within about an hour and a half. Only disappointment is there wasn't much there-I like those massive, three or four-family jobs, or the big ones for charity. Plenty of stuff to look at, and plenty of people to distract whoever's hosting. For whatever reason, I hate being that lone guy that walks up, looks around, and walks away without buying...Just my thing, I guess, so when there are a ton of people, I love to shop...

Anyway, nothing major today-got one of those folding camp stools to sit on when my spine starts barking at car shows and flea markets and such. Three bucks, no dickering...Can't wait to be healthy again for sure....

Today's finds...

2006-07-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

Today I took a ride over to my local Salvation Army Thrift store-for those of you who have never been, go....it is where the detritus of all human existence goes to die. Forgotten things even I have forgotten are there, all at cut-rate prices...Lately, I have been a little miffed at my local store-whoever is making decisions at the top has changed the pricing and discount structure. It used to be that every Wednesday was 50% off everything but furniture. Now, the Bric-a-brac has been eliminated from that discount, leaving only clothing. At the same time, the pricing of bric-a-brac has been increased. As a result, it is piling up-no one wants to spend full price on junk, come on people! I only hope they see the error of their ways soon.

Anyway, I found a few things I needed-some speaker grille cloth, perfect for the refurbishing I plan on doing to my vintage Zenith console stereo ( I plan on adding an Ipod hookup not unlike Mr. Jalopy, as well as some new speakers). Also a vintage, good condition Milton Bradley Simon Electronic Game, with box and instructions! I was recently outbid on one of these on Ebay-must have been Divine Providence, as the price I paid was a mere tenth of what the auction I lost went for...Need to get some batteries-I forgot Simon required both 9v as well as D-cells, I believe. Finally a couple of board games-a complete Monopoly set, and a Parker Brothers bad gamble called "Masterpiece"-it looks like you bid on classic artworks like Rembrandts and Van Goghs. It looks complete, but I may just pirate it for pieces and use the board if I need a heavy cardboard for a project. Or, I may stack it on my pile of games, I'm trying to build a closetful like in "The Royal Tenenbaums".

I'll post pics when I find my camera-it moved in the last cleanup.

Intro...

2006-07-21T12:11:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was a kid I have loved junkyards-to me, those rusty piles of twisted metal may as well been gold to an 8 year-old. I dreamed of finding lost treasure there, and making myself "rich" by doing so.

As an adult, I have done my best to adhere to my childhood aspirations-as a teen I worked as an auction runner and secured dozens of great finds that were sold at a profit. As a dumpster diver and curb crawler in my twenties, I scoured the wasteland of Suburbia for the cast off fortunes other's had forsaken. Currently, as a temporarily disabled utility lineman, I scour the web and local classifieds and yard sales for bargains for resale elsewhere. My ultimate goal? to earn a comfortable living off what everyone else throws away.

But enough about me-you'll learn more as we go along here....watch closely, I enjoy teaching others my tricks of surviving with less in a materialistic world gone mad.