Antique & Classic Cars Blog

At least one reader is a devout 2002 fan–a truly cool car–who hasn’t seen many on this site. So, when I saw this one a block from my house and camera, seemed like an appropriate moment to up ‘02 content.

Luckily the owner appeared so I got some background too. This belonged to a Hare Krishna–not a pairing I’d think of, but he kept good care of it. Current owner Kelly Shields bought it, threw on a supercharger to take horsepower to 200, but alas the back end was too light for that to matter much with near-standard width tires.

So out came the 6.9:1 pistons and in went 10:1s, if I recall correctly, for a useable 130 ponies, unsupercharged. Shields also redid the chassis, body, brakes, etc. to make it stop as well as it goes. I’m not the only one to like the car. He’s had people walk up and say, “I’d like to buy that car from you right now.” Nope. But he’s building a garage where he may start rebuilding them for others on a small scale. Sweet.

If you’re from the land of 11,000-plus lakes, you know how much amazing stuff is packed in between Canada and Iowa, Wisconsin and the Dakotas. Everyone else learns little by little.

Amazing cars are part of the treasure trove. A friend got me an invite to this private collection, which houses several of the best 1932 Fords on this Big Blue Marble. Among the jaw-droppers is this race car built by the incomparable Harry Miller for equally-well-known-guy Edsel Ford. The car has a saucy history, including subsequent ownership by a wealthy Detroit man who fell in love with a hooker, tried to buy her freedom for $5000, only to lose the money and his life in the transaction. Rumor is the bad men controlling the young woman and others like her cut the man up and spread his pieces around the city. His widow sold the car years later. Unfortunately it was hidden away for so long that all the people who could personally verify it was the Miller-Ford car had passed away when it resurfaced, though magazine articles exist showing Edsel at the wheel of a car identical to this one.

Ford built three of these experimental distributors. One is known to exist. This is it.

It wasn’t just Willys building Jeeps to fight the Axis Powers. Ford put its awesome manufacturing capability into that supply chain too. A few got stamped Ford.

Here’s another little treat: Offy-powered genuine Frank Kurtis midget. This car weighs maybe 800 pounds and has 250 horsepower to throw it around the track. Them’s good numbers–under 4 pounds per horsepower. No crumple zone if you hit something immovable–you’re the crumple zone.

Waste not, want not. Ford even turned the leftover scraps from the wood portion of his car business into charcoal. Henry knew business.

They say NASCAR is the most watched sport; collector car values are eclipsing prices for fine homes. Cars are big, big news–and the best stuff isn’t all on a television screen. The city of Hopkins has jumped in for a celebration of the beauty and allure of the automobile through a special event called Velocity: the Art of Motion.

The event will showcase art work devoted to cars by some 60 artists from 12 countries. Because of the subject’s global appeal, car art has a large following. Witness the value today of works by Rene Lalique, George Hamel, Alfredo De La Maria. Here is an opportunity to see what the automobile looks like to contemporary artists’ eyes.

There will also be real cars on hand during the event (which runs June 28 to August 3). DON’T MISS the vintage race cars assembling on Main Street on Wednesday, July 9th, from 6-10 p.m. There should be at least 40 vintage race cars lining the street, a unique opportunity to see incredible cars and talk with their owners and drivers.

Other clubs have gotten wind of the event and I have it from a reliable source that other rare and classic machines will be on hand that evening. A Duesenberg sighting is well possible.

Calendar it now: Hopkins, Main Street, Weds. July 9, 6-10 pm.

(Real 507 nose.)

I mentioned that the fabrication shop, Vescio’s Customizing and Restorations, is building my friend Bill a “tribute” BMW 507, arguably the company’s most beautiful car. The base vehicle is an MGA, but its front and rear ends will be modified to closely resemble the wonderful late-’50s German roadster.

I love good fabrication! The MG has been completely stripped and now, with lots of photos for reference, Bo Vescio, Ryan Ladda and Mike Jenson are working their magic, cutting, bending, shaping and welding sheet steel to transform an English design into a German one.

This is a fun car and a great project. I’ll keep ya posted.

“Wise guys” usually means mafia members, at least in popular culture, but there’s another group this term applies to. It’s male motorcycle riders wearing baseball caps or with bear heads. “Wise guys” is a half-joking term–the outlaws branded this way in movies and court documents aren’t so wise. Neither is this group of male riders who feel their faces or hair are so cool or alluring to women that they don’t want them covered up by a simple protective device that could save their lives or their families by keeping their brains intact.

Sunday I was bicycling by the river and two wise guys passed on their quiet, windscreen-equipped cruisers. The second guy had a young girl, under ten, on the back–with no helmet. That’s not cool.

It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been motorcycling or how careful you are. There are circumstances beyond a rider’s control that pose unavoidable dangers. If that rider and his daughter stop at an intersection and the driver of a big sedan behind them is stone drunk, or has a seizure, or a stroke or catastrophic mechanical failure and can’t apply the brakes, they’re getting hit. And it doesn’t matter if he’s Gary Nixon or Valentino Rossi or Travis Pastrana, there is nothing he can do about it. That little girl is going off the back of that bike and the odds of her head hitting metal or pavement or glass are high.

The responsible parent in this situation already acted by fitting her helmet properly and then his own. The wise guy, if he lives, gets to look at his injured daughter or her picture and fight his conscience for the rest of his life.

Yes, there are people in the world who rail against helmets, including those who say the forces a helmet imposes on a child’s neck can do as much harm as an impact. But forces that great only arise in a collision, at which point everyone on the bike is airborne. Hitting the pavement with a helmet on your head is better than slamming it with your skull directly. Plus, helmets have gotten much lighter since parents who crashed with unhelmeted kids that were lucky enough not to be injured started making that argument.

Pro football players are tougher than the rest of us. They get knocked out wearing helmets. The road is harder than a defensive tackle. Don’t be a wise guy. Protect your head and protect your child’s. And spouses–if you can’t convince your biker husband to wear a helmet, make sure your family’s life, auto, and health insurance policies have you and the children protected in case Harvey Wallbanger or Mac Adam comes calling.

One of the first things a box store or a stadium asserts for some financial assistance to come to your neighborhood is all the money it’s going to bring in.

Most of the time walking the fairgrounds I was thinking about horsepower and the sweet sound of 8 cylinders arrayed in a V, but it’s hard not to think of gasoline too as what brought every car to this place, as well as into the world. What would it cost to give each car a full tank of gas?

If for ease of calculation we assume roughly 10,000 cars on the grounds (there are more), that each one or its tow vehicle bought at least a tank of gas averaging 15 gallons, and that the price per gallon was $4 (might have been a little less), these drivers from many states paid $600,000 at Minnesota’s pumps.

The first gathering that became Back to the ’50s, says the MSRA website, involved about 200 friends and their cars getting together in St. Paul when American Graffiti was in the theaters. If that meant 200 cars in 1973, putting 15 gallons in each one would have cost about 15 (gal.) x .40 ($ per gal.) x 200 cars = $1200.

Let’s flip the prices. Putting 15 gallons in 10,000 cars at 1973 prices would cost $60,000 instead of $600,000 (40 cents versus $4 per gallon). If 200 cars had to buy 15 gallons at $4/gallon in 1973, it would have cost $12,000.

Maybe in 50 years, there’ll be a big gathering at the fairgrounds called Back to ‘08–ten thousand bicycles lining the streets. Many of these are pedaled there. Others come on trailers towed by other bicycles. I’d go to that too.

Most of the people cruising the state fairgrounds today had beautiful cars to do so. I went over with my buddy Angelo from the paper in his convertible RX7, and while we did not awe any fuelie Vette drivers with its rotary power, we did have the top down.

There are more than 10,000 cars there, so glimpses is what we have room for here. (Ten thousand photo uploads would not endear me to the tech folks behind this website, nor could I finish the job before next year’s Back to the ’50sl.)

It’s nice to look for something different and continental kits are a little off the beaten path. This Catalina reminds us that in 1959 a trunk the size of New Jersey was not enough; the kit frees up the space of the spare tire.

This T-Bird will fit in the Catalina’s trunk without its own continental kit, which is why many owners fitted them. Gas was cheap enough then that getting thrown in someone else’s trunk wasn’t as good a deal.

This Ford likewise goes continental. Between having the spare in the way of opening the trunk and dealing with one of those tiny spares modern cars use that do not fully stand in for the flattened tire but do allow others to laugh at your misfortune, I’d go with the kit.

Rat rods, or art cars as some people call them because of the creativity, are a fun new addition to shows of old iron. This is mostly a 1930 Model A Ford built from two such cars once partly submerged in a North Dakota Lake–one upside down, one right-side up.

Josh Schock eyed ‘em for years until the ground dried up enough that it would be reasonable to recover them. He tracked down the land’s owners and, not being hot rod fans, they were happy to have them gone.

Schock built it up with a 2×4 steel frame, 1940 front end (with 1930 front wheels), 1969 Mustang rearend with (1956 Merc wheels), 1939 Ford sedan 3-speed ‘box, and a flathead motor from an old grain truck. The manifold and carbs were pieces he’d collected over the years.

Back tires came off eBay and are original late ’50s bias plies. The seats he built, styling them after WWII surplus bomber jump seats.

Some builders drive comparatively primitive vehicles like this all the way from other states, but Schock trailered this one. He’s had it to places up to 75 miles away, but for the longer hauls, he notes “it’s not too comfortable.” It’s in interim condition right now and he’s looking to better work the body and roof.

When it comes to fearsome iron from the ’50s, Rambler leaps to mind. Possibly. Not to most minds, but someone’s. Or maybe no one’s. This car just looks cool and is unlike most on the grounds. Different can be cool.

This Rambler wagon, like most things in life, goes better with a chocolate malt.

Angelo homed in on this early Continental, which as a proud Italian himself, reminded him of Sinatra’s car. Unfortunately I did nobody much of a favor with the quality of this photograph. The sun was pretty much exactly in the wrong place–but it’s a cool car.

Working on a book on unrestored cars has made me think more about adverts like this: the early Ford depot hack attached to this sign has been reconstructed, retitled, and totally restored…yet it’s advertised as an “original truck.” It may have many of its original parts, but I think of something like this as more “correct” than “original.”

BelAirs virtually define the 1950s–so much so that even though I love them, I didn’t photograph many today. Yet this one with matching-color boat seemed like a neat pair of classic toys.

One of the biggest car shows on the continent kicks off today at the Minnesota State Fairgrounds. My sources say drivers were lined up by 4 a.m. to get in and get a good spot to park and party.

Anybody on Twin Cities area freeways last night surely saw some collector iron rolling into town. People come from around the country and from other countries to take part in this massive car show and celebration.

I’ll be there in a black Star Tribune T-shirt and my now somewhat grungy red cap. If you see me (Photo linked off my name to the right of the main page on this blog), please say hello, tell me what cars you own and like and any other comments about the show, the blog or the local car scene…. Thanks and thanks for stopping by here.

I love Minnesota…the parks, the theaters, restaurants, lakes and of course the many car get-togethers. This is as good a place to shiver and shoo mosquitoes as any other and a great place to bike and eat and drive and live.

But there is the thumb issue…. We need to resolve this. It’s good for the hobby; it’s good for the soul.

On the East Coast, round about Philadelphia, if you see a great car, you give the driver thumbs up. This is not a request to hitchhike. It does not indicate something is stuck in your thumb or on it. Doesn’t mean “look up.”

When you’re in your classic Mustang or MG or ‘Cuda or ‘32 Ford or ‘27 Model T or ‘55 Chevy pickup or ‘67 XKE and someone gives you the thumbs up, he or she is saying “cool car.” (Didn’t they have Happy Days here?)

The correct way to spread the love and acknowledge the compliment is to wave or nod–not frown or stare blankly or look suddenly the same degrees of rotation to the opposite side of the road as if you’re scanning for…your lost dog. A simple wave says, “thanks for noticing; you have good taste.”

After uncountable failed exchanges–many wonderful cars whose owners think I’m vaguely gesturing at rain clouds or have a bad hangnail, I have to conclude that this practice is not followed here.

Let’s start! Once you’ve had a handful of folks out walking and jogging and toodling the other way demonstrate that they like your car, and you’ve duly nodded or waved in return, a fine drive is made even better and the world is a kinder, happier place.

How about a dry run, right here in cyberspace….

You’re in your ‘68 Camaro SS, yellow with white interior and top (down), and I’m biking the other way. Biker approaching…looks up…eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise…thumbs up! Now you–

Did you say “wave?” “Nod?” Super! If “look away” or “stare blankly” or “act like disk jockey said something very interesting requiring quick look at radio” leapt to mind, repeat above paragraph.

Thumbs Up…. Wave.   Good for the hobby, good for the soul.

Here’s 30 seconds of fun sitting in a right-hand drive Cobra. The steering wheel looks like a modern repro, so it probably isn’t a real one–but it sounds great.

Moves right along too. Helps explain why the Cobra is the most popular kit car ever.

Enjoy the ride.