Now THIS is a hot rod

Summer's winding down here on the East Coast, and with it goes one of my favorite Saturday night activities - the local cruise night.

It's a great, impromptu little show that has cars rumbling in around 5pm or so, and wraps up when everyone gets tired or cold. A lot of the cars belong to the usual gathering of locals, but when the weather's warmer, more exotic machinery shows up which makes for a must-see event at the drop of a hat. I've seen a number of REALLY interesting cars - a Boss 429 Mustang, Max-Wedge Mopars, Top Flite Corvettes, the only Yenko Corvair convertible, custom Panteras, even the occasional gaggle of GT40s and Vipers.

When it comes to custom cars, I'm a bit picky; an afficionado of loving details, and champion of, well, just getting it right. I suppose it's easy for me to stand there, looking at someone's pride and joy, and scoff at the details ("huh, if you'd have spent another $1,000 to do wet sanding, you'd have a show stopper...") when I don't have a car of my own. So yes, I'm a hypocrite. But I like to think my hypocracy means I can appreciate cars that much more when they're done right.

As a result, I tend to be the one guy who stops and looks at the odd car that everyone else walks past, or I happen to notice the details that everyone else misses. So while everyone else is staring the paint off of a tubbed '69 Camaro or yet another shoebox Chevy, you'll probably find me laying on the ground admiring the period-correct Halibrand quick-change rear differential on a vintage-style hot rod painted in black primer. The looks I get are priceless.

Recently, I found another diamond in the rough.

This one was parked between two modern pickups and a rogue minivan. Given it's parking spot, I assume the owner had no intention of showing it off that evening. But if I'd have had a trophy in my hand, I'd have awarded it "Best of Show". Scratch that - "Best of Summer".

1934 Ford three-window coupe. Painted in vintage-style dark blue lacquer, with '50s style flames. Chopped top. No fenders, no running boards, no hood, no hood sides. Turned metal firewall. Vintage style 5-spoke Americans painted flat grey on the rear, with an old set of chromed wheels in the front. To top it all off, it had an old V8, with dual carbs and a 6-71 blower backed up with a true 4-speed manual. The 4" side pipes weren't period-correct, but still worked with the look of the car.

If it'd had the Halibrand quick-change, I probably would have teared up a bit.

I never found the owner, but it was obvious that whoever built this car, well, just got it. It was the kind of car I've always dreamed of having in my garage. Something to scare Mercedes-Benz owners, and my mother-in-law, too. This car had a mean attitude, and looked to have the equipment to back it up.

For ten minutes of my life, I never lusted after a car more than I did that one. I could envision myself driving it like a 16-year-old with Dad's car. Every traffic light would invite a smokey burnout, followed by a full-throttle run with the supercharger's belt squealing to keep up with the crankshaft. People would think it was Don Garlits driving through town. I'd plan a trip to Bonneville just so I could get some proper salt encrusted on the chassis. I'd drive the tires off the darn thing - no sitting around at a car show!

But therein lies my dilemma. Because really, if I actually owned a car like this, I'd probably miss out on some really great cars at the car show.

XJS - the un-loved Jaguar

Driving around town the other day, I came across a lovely dark silver 1989 Jaguar XJS V12 for sale. Unfortunately, my personal wealth status doesn't allow me the luxury of purchasing cars on a whim, but having been a fan of these cars for some time, I had to stop and get a closer look.

The body panels fit well. The paint matched. The interior was in good shape. I even liked the color! Unfortunately, it had those awful motorized seatbelts. That was the deal breaker for me.

So between the seatbelts and, well, the lack of $6900 burning a hole in my pocket, it won't end up in my driveway. Which is really unfortunate, since my admiration for these cars goes back a few years.

About 10 years ago, I lived in an old apartment complex. There were a lot of really lackluster cars there, mostly owned by the elderly residents that inhabited the neighborhood. You can imagine how well a race-ready red Miata and a purple Civic coupe went over in that area, parked among the many Cutlasses, Cadillacs and the occasional Corolla. I actually remember myself laughing at the fact that the older gentleman across the street still drove a Dodge Aries K. It wasn't until after I moved in that I learned that the man hadn't been legally licensed for the previous eight years, and the car hadn't moved since then.

A few days after moving in and assuming my place in this automotive wasteland, I noticed a Jaguar XJS would start sneaking in late at night. It would reside in a parking spot for a few days, disappear for a few more, then magically reappear. It was a lovely, deep red with tan leather interior and wire wheels, and the chrome was still in decent shape.

It took several months, but I finally tracked down the owner. As it turned out, Tom was as quirky as the car he drove. He was friendly enough, but I always got the impression he didn't really believe that I knew much about cars, or that I was a Japanese car snob. As a result, the conversations were usually pretty brief.

One day, I returned home to find him buffing the car with carnuba wax. He'd been at it for hours, and after a few beers, he'd convinced himself that it was time for a repaint. I looked at the can of wax, and tried to explain that he was using the wrong product to bring the shine back. But still the Doubting Thomas, he rolled his eyes a bit when I told him I had something inside the house that would bring back the shine.

Back outside, terry cloth towel and bottle of Eagle 1 in hand, I ask where he'd like me to start. Sixty seconds later, and the c-pillar gleamed like the paint was brand-new. He was stunned, and overcome with joy at the same time. As it turned out, this was the turning point in our instantly-budding friendship.

Within an hour, the car was restored to its former glory. He reached into his pocket, and handed me the keys. "You deserve it." I was stunned. "Go take it for a drive - I'll be insulted if you come back within a half-hour."

I opened up the long door, and surveyed the interior. After a couple of attempts getting my long legs to work (and bumping my head a few times), I took my spot behind the wheel and shut the door. Once inside, the car fit me like a glove. A turn of the key actuated the noisy starter, which was soon overcome by the gentle sound of the 5.3 liter V12. I revved the motor, expecting it to bark to life like most other V12s I'd heard, but it maintained it's civility. I put my left hand on the thin, spindly wood steering wheel, and my right hand fell on the automatic shifter. I slipped the car into "Drive", and that's what it did.

At the first traffic light, I put my foot to the carpet. The minivan next to me turned into a blur as it quickly out-paced the big Jag.

Instead, the Jaguar lumbered along on it's cushy suspension to the next traffic light. While waiting, I notice a guy in a wicked, black custom GTI who's eyeing me up from the next lane. The light turns green and he chirps his tires on his way to redline. The Jaguar continues to lumber along, but since this is a long stretch of road in a 50mph zone, the engine's torque starts coming into play. The car reaches its stride around 40mph, and suddenly it becomes a lithe, Grand Touring car. The steering becomes comfortable, the power abundant. I actually feel like British royalty on my way to Kensington Palace. "No stopping for tea - I've got a Jag to drive!"

The road starts to curve sharply, and the tuned GTI slows. Much to my surprise, and despite the cushy suspension and massive tire sidewalls, the Jaguar settles into the corner, and with no drama from the car or the tires, it cruises past the GTI in the outside lane. He tries to catch up on the short straight, but again, the composed Jaguar leaves the GTI clawing for grip at the next curve. 

I turn onto a back road for some touring time, and that's when I get scared. On narrow back roads, the Jaguar's width becomes quickly apparent. It's suspension will soak up bumps to the point of them being almost imperceptible. It's V12 and high curb weight keeps the momentum going. The part that scares me is the oncoming traffic, and combination of guard rails and trees to my right. When I see a box truck appear, I visibly flinch.

But once the road widens and traffic thins, the car drives with authority. To this day, I'll still proclaiim that engine to be the smoothest I've ever driven. Unfortunately, the GM TH400 automatic transmission means that it's not always in the proper gear, and you find yourself looking for a clutch pedal when you should really be looking for the brake pedal. The brakes are competent, but need a heavy foot to slow the equally heavy car. If this were my car, a manual transmission swap and a brake upgrade (assuming one exists that's not off a TWR Jaguar) would be mandatories. Not to mention the electrical system, which I would imagine is also very British in it's operation.

Nonetheless, the XJS is a fine automobile. Its styling may not appeal to everyone, but then again, it's hard to top the loveliness of it's famous predecessor, the Jaguar XKE. It's like Andy Warhol trying to out-do The Mona Lisa. Or Ripple trying to create their own version of Dom Perignon. Following up a masterpiece is tricky business.

So the silver Jaguar continues to sit, it's neon-orange "For Sale" signs calling to me as I pass by. I'm sure it'll end up in somone else's garage, and I hope they appreciate that car as much as I do.

And I hope they do something about those awful motorized seatbelts.

Who the heck is this guy?

While I'd like to be modest, and say, "Here's a little bit about me," in actuality, it'll be a bit more than that. You see, I've had many great automotive influences in my life that have helped mold me into the car geek that I am today. You'll hear about several of these great folks in coming posts, but just know that there's been some wonderful people who have allowed me to pick their brain, and enjoy gleaning whatever I could from them and their cars.

Growing up, my interest in cars consisted of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars. And wow, did I have a million of them. Literally. In fact, I still have a bunch somewhere in storage. They're all chipped up, some have bent axles, but they've all seen many thousands of pretend road miles. Even today, I still look into that box, and I find cars like the pink Lamborghini Countach, or the red Ferrari 308 GTB (which was a long-time favorite) and can still remember running them around my parents' coffee table. "Don't chip the table!" my mother would scream. Sorry, Mom. It was my 5-year-old's need for speed.

I always enjoyed looking at the occasional car magazine, but what made me a true car guy was the day (around age 10) I got a ride in a custom Hugger Orange 1976 Corvette that belonged to one of my mother's co-workers. It was bright orange, with brown leather interior. And it was LOUD with a 4-speed, and a lumpy cam-induced idle. I sat in that low-slung car, barely able to see out of it (that pit of an interior that is the Mako Shark '68-'82 Corvettes...), and it was life-changing. My body pinned to the back of the seat as we charged through the countryside at full-bore. It was the coolest thing ever!

Over the years, I'd get rides in a lot of cool cars, and every one of them left an indelible impression on me. From the truly great, to the truly awful, each one would get my own brand of car reviewing. In my head, I sounded like Brock Yates!

Eventually, someone planted the seed in my mind that actual people designed the cars that I had always loved. What? You mean I could do that??? And many, many pages of notebook paper and miles of pencil lead later, I'd created my own study-hall portfolio. I still remember my first "design study" - variations on the first generation Ford Taurus. I'd developed a whole series that ranged from sport coupes, to a Ranchero, to a targa-topped wagon. But supercars were the most fun to draw.

Sometime around 1993, a family friend, Don Layton, introduced me to the world of hot rods. I was amazed what could be done to existing cars using parts from other cars. The paint, the stance, the sound - it was all new and exciting to me. Don took me to my first real hot rod show in Ocean City, NJ, and introduced me to yet another automotive influence - Egon Necelis. Egon and I hit it off well, and shared another wonderful chapter in a young man's car life.

Since then, I've gone from getting rides in cars, to being able to drive them. And from having to bum rides to car shows, to being able to get myself there. I ended up doing a series of articles and show coverage for a web site called Speedoptions.com (which is now out of business). The pay wasn't much, but it was cool to finally see my work in print, and the feedback I'd get from the readers.

I still subject every car I drive to a car review. I suppose it's still that 5-year-old in me that enjoys running the cars around the coffee table - driving them the way they should be.

And enjoying every minute of it.

Seatbelts on - time to turn the key

After several years of writing for (now-defunct) car web sites, various ramblings on yet other various car forums, the occasional Twitter post, and even the random Facebook posting, I decided to finally heed the advice of a friend or two and start up a blog. What should I talk about? What else - cars. And, well, since you found this blog because of your interest in cars (or I just guilted you into coming here), I might as well make it worth your while and something that you'll actually want to read and follow. 

So set up your RSS feeds, click your bookmarks, or commit the url to memory. Or if you're really hardcore, you can tattoo it in reverse onto your forehead so you'll never forget it (and it's visible in a mirror, making it easy to read). But really, the bookmark thing works pretty well on it's own.

And most of all, I hope you enjoy the ride with me.