North Main - Chapter Eight

I drove back to the relative safety of Market Street where everyone was cruising and decided to park in front of the Firestone Tire. I was just hanging out, listening to 94.7 KMET on my Pioneer Super Tuner, and before long I saw Jim in his Camaro on the cruise circuit. I shouted to him and he flipped a bitch and pulled up to where I was parked. He jumps out of his car and says "Where the heck did you go?" I explained that I was checking out my car when I saw the bust going down and got the hell out of there. Jim told me he got a ticket for "spectating" as he was already pulled over on the side of the road when the cops showed up. Luckily he was outside his car so I guess they couldn't prove he was driving. I was already on the verge of losing my license with all the exhibition of speed tickets that I had. I think the only reason that I still had my license was that my dad knew the Juvenile Court judge. The last time I was in front of him he warned me that if I got one more ticket I would lose my license for 6 months! I was already skating on thin ice and had almost got busted!  As Jim and I were standing there bullshitting we saw multiple tow trucks go by, towing cars that were down at North Main! We were wondering why they were taking them this way, as it was packed with cruisers, and then it dawned on us. They were parading them down Market Street to send a message to all the other racers! 

Even with my close call and the intimidation parade orchestrated by Riverside's finest, the next weekend we still went down to North Main! Our reasoning was that the Police were too busy to schedule a raid two weekends in a row. It turned out that we were either right or just got lucky, but the racing that next weekend was crazy. The turnout was massive. It seems like word had spread about the Police raid and that brought even more people out, both spectators and racers. I had gotten there early in anticipation of getting some racing action. Lots of guys were checking out my Chevelle but to my surprise I couldn't get a race! It turned out that word had also spread about me beating Jim's Camaro. This was the evening that I remember seeing the first trailered cars show up. I knew better than to ask for a race but I still wanted to check them out, so I acted like I was interested. One of the cars was a 1955 Ford Thunderbird, but it was basically just the body on a tube chassis. It was running a big block Ford with an automatic trans, 9 inch rear end with wheelie bars. The other trailered car was a late 40's English Ford Anglia with a 6-71 blown Chevy small block, automatic trans, and a radically shortened 9 inch, also with wheelie bars. Both of these were full blown race cars! As far as I know, this was a first for North Main and it showed how serious the racing was becoming. I got to talking with the car's owners and it turned out they both drove out from Whittier. These guys were pretty cool and they had pretty much just brought their cars out to show them off. They did fire up the Anglia and back it off the trailer, but it did not make a pass that night. There were plenty of races going down so there was no lack of action. One race in particular that I was looking forward to, and one that had been talked up for weeks, was between Livingston with his 67 Chevelle and Morgan with his Ford Courier pickup. The Chevelle was running a 327 V-8 and a Doug Nash 5 speed. The Courier had a 2.3 liter turbo charged 4 cylinder. A lot of people thought that the Chevelle would trample the Courier, but a few, myself included, knew that that Ford Courier was no stock pickup. Not only did it have plexiglass windows, but the owner/builder had the nickname "Turbo Joe", and this was not his first rodeo! The night turned out to be a bust because Turbo Joe didn't show up, so we would have to wait some more to see this match. Livingston raced a few cars that night and beat them hands down. His high compression, roller cammed small block was well known and tough to beat. 

The next weekend the crowd at North Main had really surged in size, I think partially in anticipation of the Livingston/Morgan race. There were also at least four trailered cars there! People were standing 3 and 4 deep when Turbo Joe pulled up to the line next to Livingston. Everyone wanted to see this race! The Chevelle came off the line hard and got a little squirrely, whereas the Courier took off like a slingshot. Mid track, the Chevelle caught the Courier and I thought it was over at that point, but to the surprise of many, the Courier and Chevelle stayed neck and neck almost to the end. I say almost because some (like me) saw Livingston pull ahead right at the end, but others said Turbo Joe inched him. The spotter that was at the finish line said it was too close to call. They would just have to race again! Unfortunately it would not be tonight, as the Courier had developed a misfire and Morgan had to take it home. Livingston was adamant that he had won and was really wanting that rematch. He had the hood up on the Chevelle and a lot of people were standing around it while he was talking some serious smack. I saw an opportunity and, in front of everybody, challenged him to a race. Now he had also heard that I had beaten Jim's Camaro, which was also small block powered, but I don't think he believed the story. In fact, I had heard that he referred to my big block as a "boat anchor"! He didn't answer me right away so I decided to throw down the gauntlet and said "What's the matter, afraid of getting beat by a boat anchor?" That did it and he shot me a look and said "I'll see you at the line!"

I beelined back to my Chevelle and checked a few things under the hood as well as lower the rear tire pressure. I fired up the big block and proceeded over to the starting line. We didn't have to wait long before it was our turn. The scene was surreal. Two radical Chevelles inching up to the line, our lopey camshafts chopping up the cold night air and snorting fumes out our exhaust pipes, like a horse's breath through its nostrils. This was a rat versus mouse, 4 speed against 5 speed, high school rivalry revisited, all out balls to the wall race. I am watching the guy staging us and start to rev my engine to just under three thousand rpm. Tonight he was using a flash light instead of his arms because of how dark it was out. The seconds seemed like minutes as I found myself wanting to look over at Livingston, but knew better, lest I miss the light. Suddenly there was the light, and I simultaneously dumped the clutch and mashed down the accelerator pedal. My big block roared, his small block screamed, both of us grabbing gears like our life depended on it. I glanced over once and saw Livingston's headlights, which meant I was pulling on him! With my adrenaline rushing, I shifted at 7500 rpm and stabbed the final gear home. I beat Livingston by a good car length, further cementing my Chevelles street cred. I was no sooner parked when Livingston rushed up to me demanding a rematch. Others soon chorused him, wanting to see us race again, even though there was still a bunch of racing going down. What I really wanted to do was a thorough check over on my Chevelle before I raced it again. The last thing I needed was to damage my motor! Before I could answer him, a loud bang was heard, followed by metallic grinding noises. Everyone's attention immediately shifted to the race that was happening, a 390 powered Ford truck versus a 400 small block Chevy 4x4. The driver of the Chevy decided to race the truck in four wheel drive and proceeded to grenade the trucks transfer case, which caused the front driveshaft to break loose and launch into the engines oil pan. The resulting mess of oil, gear lube, and metal shrapnel spread across the road like the Exxon Valdez oil spill. And just as quickly, the racing was over for the night. 

I hopped into the Chevelle and headed towards Market Street where I knew the cruising action would be hot. All the spots were full in front of the Firestone so I decided to cruise for awhile. There were a lot of cars cruising that I did not recognize and that explained why it was so packed. There must have been a bunch of out-of-towners that showed up tonight. As I'm cruising I see Chuck, a buddy of mine from High School, hanging out on one of the street corners. He is holding up a sign that says "I can lick my eyebrows" and trying to hitch a ride with any female cruiser. I honk my horn, point at him and start laughing! Chuck was crazy and always good for a laugh. I had finally completed the cruise circuit and the Firestone lot was still full, so I headed down to park at Carl's Jr. I was hungry anyways so I decided to kick back inside of Carl's while I scarfed down a Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger. It wasn't long before Jim found me. He sat down and started eating what was left of my fries. I asked him if he had seen my race but he told me that he had to work late and had just gotten down there. I recapped the race for Jim and he wanted to go find Livingston and race him with his Camaro! I then told him about the accident and the mess that it left. I said it would be at least a week before any racing would be happening at North Main, maybe longer if the police decided to pay a visit again. We talked about how risky it was getting and I told him I didn't know how much longer I would be going down to North Main because I couldn't risk losing my license. Jim then told me about a new place he had heard about where there was street racing going on. The street was at least a mile long and was located in a new industrial park on the other side of town, close to Orco Block. He told me he drove over there on his lunch break to see for himself and the street was almost perfectly flat with fresh blacktop. Now he had me curious and we decided to both go and check it out next weekend. "We might have to race to see how good it is." I said to him. "You're on!" Jim said, with a mischievous grin on his face.

Good vs Evil

 Warning: Off topic post.

Today, September the 10th, Charlie Kirk was assassinated. Mr Kirk was a conservative christian and someone that, in my opinion, stood for good. Let's not sugar coat it, he was murdered because of what he believed in and spoke about. Charlie was making an impact and because of that someone felt that they needed to silence him. Why? What's the end game? Is this the new normal? Freedom of speech is dead, quite literally. In a past blog Another New Beer, I predicted "something major and ominous happening in the upcoming year". The murder of Charlie Kirk would definitely qualify as the major part. I realized what the ominous part was after I read a lot of the disgusting and vile comments to Charlie's death.

 Evil seems to be lurking around every corner now-a-days. Evil is especially present on the internet. Social media is evils best friend judging from the pure hatred that was put on display following the news of Charlie Kirk's death. People were actually celebrating his death and relishing the pain that his family is feeling, just because of what he believed in. Evil seems to be running rampant and must be stopped. Pure evil, that's the ominous part. These are dark times and we need the light of good. Charlie's death shook me to the core, as it did to a lot of good people. I also can't shake the feeling that a sleeping giant was awakened. Mark my words: Good will prevail over evil. And to every evil person spreading hate and false information about him I have but one message:  I am Charlie Kirk.

  

North Main - Chapter Seven

Although I really wanted to race my Chevelle at North Main, I discovered a serious traction problem now that the big block was installed in the car. My rear tires were 245/60/15 BF Goodrich T/A Radials that had seen better days. I needed some serious meats to get the power of the 402 to the pavement. Pro Trac made a really nice street/strip tire that had a super soft compound but everyone that I knew that had them told me that they wore out really quick, even if you weren't doing burnouts all the time! I was running an 8 inch wide rally wheel so I wanted to get the widest tire possible that would fit inside the stock wheel wells. Just when I thought that I was out of options, I spotted a Super Shops ad in the Sunday paper advertising a brand new T/A radial. BF Goodrich had just released their widest radial tire, a 305/50/15! Talk about some bodacious donuts, these things were massive! I needed a set of these pronto!

One of the cool things about the Super Shops was that you could get a trial fit of the tire you wanted on your car. I had to make sure that this steam roller sized tire would fit on the Chevelle without rubbing. As soon as I had a chance, I cruised down to the local Super Shops on 7th street. Although the sales guy was eager to sell me a set of tires, the labor guy was insistent that the tires were not going to fit. I was starting to doubt it myself after the tire was mounted because it was ballooning out so much from the edge of the rim. Much to my surprise those massive meats tucked up in the wheel wells perfectly. The view from behind was incredible! The tires were so wide it looked like the car had mini tubs installed. Now I was ready and Saturday was just a few days away!

Saturday morning and afternoon was spent prepping the car for that evenings activities. I have to admit, the Chevelle really looked good cleaned up. Medium blue metallic with argent silver all along the bottom rocker panels, 15x8 rally wheels in the rear with the wide trim rings, and 14x6 rally wheels up front. Just my luck, my mom had made lasagna for dinner, so I was definitely eating (and having seconds) and that made me get a late start on that evenings activities. The weather was perfect and I decided to hit the cruise circuit before heading out to North Main. The place was absolutely packed! There were a lot of people hanging out and even more cruising. It was bumper to bumper for miles, and I was inching along in the Chevelle, looking for a place to pull over and park. Although I preferred manual transmissions, my left leg was getting quite a workout in that traffic. When I put the big block in I also upgraded the clutch to a heavy duty three finger pressure plate that I had custom built at Clutch Masters. As I was depressing the clutch pedal it started to feel like something was grinding or rubbing. I was going to pull over to see what was up when suddenly there was a pop noise just as I was pushing the pedal, and my foot slammed to the floor. I was in neutral and managed to coast over to a driveway entrance. After a quick check over, it did not take me long to figure out what had happened. The pivot that held one end of the clutch counter shaft had snapped off in the block. I knew it would not be a quick fix, so off I went on foot to find a pay phone. While I was walking I was trying to figure out how I was going to get the Chevelle home. I stopped at the Carl's Jr to get a drink and spotted a guy a knew from the neighborhood, Zeke. Zeke was older but was a seasoned mechanic and street racer so I figured he might know what I could do. After explaining to him what had happened, he told me to just drive it home. I gave him a confused look and before I could ask how he explained it to me. "It's easy", Zeke said, "just start the motor with the car in first gear." "Let off the gas before you shift and it will go into the next gear." "What about red lights?" I asked. "Pop it in neutral, kill the motor, and then start all over again" Zeke replied. Armed with this information I was determined to give it a try. This was all new to me and I needed to concentrate, so I left the radio off and rolled up all the windows except for the drivers. With the engine off I put the transmission in first gear, waited for a break in traffic, then hit the starter. The Chevelle lurched forward as the starter was engaged, and as soon as the motor fired, I was off! Shifting was actually easy, letting off the gas just like Zeke said, the trans did go into the next gear. It took a little pressure and was a bit notchy, but it worked and got me home. The Chevelle would be down for the count for a few days until I was able to repair it. So much for racing at North Main! It would just have to wait.

The next day after work I had the front of the Chevelle up on car ramps and removed the counter shaft to gain access to the block pivot. I had a spare in my parts stash but I had to get the piece out that broke off in the block. Working in a very tight area, I used a small center punch and started tapping on the edge of the broken stud. I got lucky as it slowly started to back out of the hole, and before long the broken piece was removed. After I got everything re-assembled and adjusted, I decided to test the pedal action before I took the car off of the ramps. I enlisted the help of my sister to push on the clutch pedal while I watched from underneath. Right away I could see there was a bigger problem. My first clue was that my sister basically had to use both feet to depress the clutch pedal and the second clue was that when the pedal was pushed, the car's body would actually move on the frame. It's not like the body bushings were loose or worn out either. I couldn't believe that the pressure plate was so stiff that it was causing that amount of flex in the body. With that amount of pressure something had to give, and I realized that it was only a matter of time before something else broke. The logical choice was to switch out the pressure plate, so the Chevelle stayed up on the car ramps and I started the process of removing the transmission. I had become sort of an expert on the R&R procedure for the transmission. 1) Remove driveshaft. 2) Remove shifter handle. 3) Remove speedometer cable. 4) Remove four bolts retaining the transmission to the bellhousing and remove transmission. 5) Remove clutch fork spring and loosen fork adjusting rod. 6) Remove throw out bearing. 7) Remove bellhousing to gain access to the pressure plate, disc, and flywheel. Now that the Jean LaFoote pressure plate was removed, I had to decide what I was going to replace it with.

Everyone I knew ran 3 finger clutches. They were stiffer then a diaphragm clutch and held more pressure. When I first converted the car to a manual transmission I put in a diaphragm clutch. The pedal pressure was fairly light and it wasn't long before the disc started slipping. I needed a pressure plate with more clamping force so I upgraded to a Borg & Beck style, aka 3 finger, pressure plate. When I installed the big block I upgraded the clutch to a 12 inch unit, so I couldn't use my old setup as it was only 10-1/2 inches. My initial thought was to buy another 3 finger clutch with less pressure, probably a McCloud or Hays unit. I decided to head over to J & M Speed Center to see what they had. The owner, Phil, was working the counter when I got there and I started asking him about clutches. I told him about my clutch problem and he said he might have just what I was looking for. He went back into the warehouse and brought out a black and orange box that said Centerforce on it. Phil told me it was a new style of diaphragm clutch that used centrifugal weights to increase the clamping force. It was the best of both worlds, the clamping force of a 3 finger with the light pedal pressure of a diaphragm. Needless to say I was sold, so I bought a new Centerforce clutch kit to install in the Chevelle.

The new clutch went in without any problems and worked flawlessly. The pedal was easy to push and the action was smooth. Now the Chevelle was ready for North Main and I couldn't wait for the weekend. Before you could say "Bob's your uncle", it was Saturday evening. When I got to North Main it was filling up fast. Tonight was hot and you could already tell there was going to be a lot of racing action. Both spectators and racers parked on the shoulder of the street, parking lights on if you were looking for a race. Guys would walk up and down the line of cars checking out the competition, and several were checking out my Chevelle. I got more then a few questions about the rear tires and if the car had been mini-tubbed. Racing had already started and I was eager to find a race. Just then I spotted a guy I knew from high school, Jim, in his Camaro. You really couldn't miss his car with the polished tunnel ram sticking out of the hood and the whine of the Pete Jackson gear drive. I flagged him down and he pulled over. The first thing he said to me is "you gonna race that thing tonight or did you break something else?" "Only if you have the balls to race me first." I retorted. "Your on!" Jim said, and with that I fired up the Chevelle and followed him to the staging area. North Main was a total of 4 lanes, so with 2 lanes side by side it made it a little easier to race without worrying about oncoming traffic. Drag racing would run North to South and the "staging area" was nothing more then a line that someone had painted across the Southbound lanes. Soon we were lined up and waiting for the guy who was staging that night to signal us with his flashlight. I found out later that a lot of people thought that Jim was going to take me as his Camaro had a reputation for being really fast. We both came off the line hard and Jim's high reving small block got the jump on me. By the time I grabbed second gear I had caught up and third gear saw me pulling away from him. John Dahl had told me that the motor should handle 7500 rpm all day but I was shifting at 7000 and that big block was screaming! By the time I hit 4th I was a solid car length ahead and breaking away. The race was over before I knew it and I had won! Most of the racers would just slow down and do a u-turn in the street to head back, which is exactly what Jim did. I was sure he wanted a rematch but before I raced again I wanted to look my car over real quick. It was too dark out to do this on the side of North Main so I continued to drive up the street about a mile to the only business that was out there. It had a small parking lot with a light, just enough for me to check things out. As I was parked there looking over the car I could see all the cars in the distance and hear another race going down. Just then I saw at least half a dozen police cars speed right by me towards where the racing was happening. Another swath of cop cars were coming from the opposite direction, lights blazing. A bust was going down and it looked to me like a big one! I jumped in my car, left my lights off, and quickly headed down the street away from all the action.

Getting a Clue

 It seems most project cars that are on the market are being sold due to burn out, either mentally, monetary, or both. If you're lucky, every once in awhile the car gods might decide to throw a deal your way. But in my humble opinion, buying someone else's project car is a lot like playing the game Clue. You start out with very little information and as you dive deeper into it, more clues start to reveal themselves. Recently I was fortunate enough to accompany my lifelong friend Duane on a trip to pick up not one, but two Pontiac Grand Prix hardtops! The car gods were in an especially good mood because he scored them both for $1000! Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

There was not a lot of information available about them. The owner had passed away and his family was selling them. The cars had been stored for decades in a rural storage lot so their overall condition was suspect, but they were both bucket seat cars with center consoles, so could you really go wrong for a thousand dollars? Duane and I are old school and came loaded for bear. We also did this very methodically, one car at a time, swapping out flat tires, airing up the ones that would hold air, and using a chain and a come-along to pull the cars up on the trailer. No electric winches or battery powered impact wrenches here, just brawn and muscle that we paid for dearly the next day! I call this the "young of mind, old of body" syndrome. 

Yours truly pretending I'm in the pits at a NASCAR race.

Getting ready to hand winch this behemoth up on the trailer.

The wide track Pontiac is loaded and ready to go.

What we have is two almost identical Pontiac's that had been sinking into the terra firma for decades, but there was still a lot more to figure out. Both trunks were locked with no keys, and one of the car's hood was chained shut, so it's engine remained a mystery for now. All the seats were in amazing shape considering how long these vehicles sat. We also found a lot of evidence of the cars being covered with heavy tarps at one time so that is what probably saved both interiors from total annihilation. Once each Grand Prix was relocated to their new home, the inspection began. Up first was cutting the lock and chain that secured one of the Pontiac's hood to see what lurked in the engine bay. We knew both cars had the 4 speed Hydra-Matic transmission and one had what appeared to be it's original 389 V-8, but the other was a complete mystery. Upon cutting the lock and opening the hood, Duane was greeted by every Pontiac enthusiasts dream - a 421 cubic inch V-8 with tri-power carburetion! Talk about hitting the jackpot! 

This very special air cleaner is a clue to what lies below it.

A sight for sore eyes, factory multiple carburetion.

As the clues started to reveal themselves, there were still some major unknowns. The 389 in the other Grand Prix was totally complete and stock. It still wore it's factory Carter 4 BBL carburetor along with dual exhaust but it's condition was a total mystery. It was as though the car had been driven into storage and parked. But Duane didn't just fall off the turnip truck, and we both knew better as our combined 90 years of automotive experience told us so. There was a reason, but what was it? Duane was determined to get to the bottom of it and began working on the 389 in earnest. He actually got the engine to start and run! This ruled out any major engine problems like a spun bearing or broken timing chain. The radiator was bone dry and the system appeared to still be sealed. Probably a rusted out freeze plug, right? Upon further inspection the next clue revealed itself.

Pretty sure this cracked block is why the car was parked!

With both engines more or less sorted out, curiosity was killing the cat so we had to find out what was in those locked trunks. Both cars were sitting really low in the rear and we figured either the trunks were loaded with cement blocks or the coil springs were collapsed. First up was the Grand Prix with the 421. Upon getting the trunk open, besides getting attacked by wasps, Duane was greeted by a cornucopia of Pontiac parts. The previous owner had apparently used the Pontiac's portly trunk to store his spare parts.

All this and more was discovered in the trunk of the Grand Prix!

Next up was the 389 powered Grand Prix to see what treasures were tucked away in it's trunk. Using the clues divulged in the first trunk, I jokingly told Duane that there was probably a tri-power stashed in there. Low and behold, there was a tri-power manifold and more!

Another set of 8 lug wheels and a tri power!

With both trunks sorted out it was time to solve the mystery of the 421 powered Grand Prix. The engine looked as if it had been rebuilt and installed but with nothing really hooked up. It needed a starter, which was in the trunk, so that had to be addressed first. Upon further inspection another clue revealed itself. The flywheel was missing! Someone had bolted the engine to the transmission but failed to install it. Duane had no choice but to remove the trans in order to install the flywheel, which conveniently was also found in the trunk.

No car lifts here, this transmission was removed the old fashioned way!

 

After the Hydra-Matic was removed another clue revealed itself. The reason they did not install the flywheel was because the 421 that was installed in the Grand Prix was a later model motor. In 1962 the 389 would have had a crank hub that measured 2.600 whereas the 421 had a crank hub measurement of 2.750, so there was no way to bolt the Hydra-Matics special flywheel and spring hub to the 421. The original starter would not work either so that presented another problem. With a vast array of Pontiac parts at his disposal, Duane quickly formulated a plan. The Hydra-Matic would be swapped out for a Turbo-Hydramatic TH400 transmission. The flex plate for the TH400 will bolt up to the 421 crank and a later model starter could be used. Once the clues were figured out it all started to come together.

Starter and flexplate problem solved!

 

Doesn't everyone have a good used TH400 in their parts stash?

As I write this the final details are being completed on the transmission swap for the Grand Prix. Next up will be going through the brake system and maybe using one of the sets of 8 lug wheels to put this Pontiac on the road. So for this automotive version of Clue, if you accused Professor Pontiac in the driveway with a wrench, your guess would be correct!

 

Those Were The Days, My Friend

 Last winter I got bored, so I decided to get a part time job to keep busy during my retirement. I called upon my past experience in auto parts and landed a job at the local parts store. Well the "winter only" gig just kept going and here I am, still working. I foolishly thought that I could relive some of my glory days as a counterman. Heck, I still know the part number for Standard Motor Products Chevrolet V-8 distributor points, DR2270XP. Guess what, points aren't really sold anymore, except maybe for an old tractor. No need to memorize part numbers as you have a computer filled full of them, along with google, right at your fingertips. Don't know what a part is? Simply take a picture of it with your phone and hit search. Bingo! Instant results that can make anyone, and I mean anyone, look like they actually know what they are doing. Don't have any automotive or parts experience? No problem, it's really the computer doing all the work. The real eye opener was the prices. I know everything goes up and of course you have inflation, but how the heck does automatic transmission fluid go from 99 cents to over $12 a quart? Talk about sticker shock!

There is just no place, or need, for a former parts professional in the industry anymore. Nobody needs a carburetor diagnosis, timing suggestions, or tune up tips anymore. It's really a young persons game, old folks need not apply, except maybe in management and you can forget that. It's the same old corporate bull crap, jump through hoops to get your "bonus", work an insane amount of hours, chase an ever increasing quota, etc, etc. Been there, done that. No thanks! I think it's time I hang up my counterman's hat for good. I would rather remember the good old days of selling parts then today's pick and click and push this months promo pitch. Call me old, but those were the days my friend, and they are gone forever.

Still Swimming

 Recently, while perusing the google universe, I ran across a "Auto Bloggers Database" website. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to investigate it further to see what I could find. The site is Feedspot and they have a auto bloggers database that is bar none. As I was browsing their A to Z listings of auto blogs, I spotted "Classic Car Blogs", so I jumped down that rabbit hole to see what I could find. I was a bit surprised to find yours truly listed as number 28 under the 50 Best Classic Cars and Websites in 2025. Wow, I am truly humbled. Unless it's AI generated, then no. 

While I'm on the subject of self promotion, a seemingly random blog of mine has gone pre-viral, amassing an astonishing 50k plus views! Gee, I wonder why? Could it be it's subject matter? Yes, a mere drop in the bucket in TikTok land, but I will take what I can get.

Another New Beer

 As I get older, every new year is like a trying a new beer. Some are really good and others are crap. The last four beers have been some of the worst that I have tasted. I'm talking hogwash like Bud Light. Hey, some folks like that swill, so the last four beers to them have been nothing but thirst quenching. To each their own I say. Personally I am looking forward to the next four ales, but I am going to take it one bellywash at a time. As for my annual prediction of things to come, well lets just say the jury is still out. I would love to say that it's going to be all rainbows and unicorns, but the stark truth is the incoming POTUS has a hell of a lot of work to do. I can't shake the feeling of something major and ominous happening in the upcoming year. I pray that I am wrong, but if my past predictions are any clue, this one will follow suit. 

So what does the new year have in store for the Amberlight Garage you ask? (Okay, maybe you didn't ask but I am going to tell you anyways) Well, financing has been secured for the major addition, so vetting contractors will be the next step. While technically still in the planning stages, the new Amberlight will be larger then the old digs, but it will be far from a "garage mahal". A large mezzanine is planned, along with a dedicated fabrication/welding room. And with any luck, project Yellowjacket will emerge from Helm's Deep and work will begin in earnest on it. Hey, all it takes is time and money, and I just happen to have a little of each!