Antique & Classic Cars Blog

Many moons ago, I encountered the bolt from Kryton broken off in the over-rider bar that affixes to the top of my ‘72 Triumph TR6 bumper. My friend Tom blasted that out with a cutting torch–it still put up an incredible fight– and welded in a nut at each end.

Now the sun is setting sooner, which curiously seems to create more time in the evenings to work on the car.

Tonight’s quick job was to run a tap through some extra weld to clean up the threads on those holes. On one end I had to drill the opening round first, then ran the tap.  Both ends cleaned up nicely.

In a future post I’ll be bolting things back together and re-installing the license-plate lamp, for which I need a new base gasket. There’s one on eBay but it’ll probably go for as much as a fresh one from Victoria British. With one or the other, the bumper’s going back together and onto the car, then it’s into the cabin for the last few bits before the car’s done. Woopie!

Several years ago, my California-based mother-in-law was bicycling along Minnehaha Creek when it started to hail (small pieces). It was such a funny experience, she called a West Coast friend who has lived only in Hawaii and California.

There was a pause from the receiver. “Pieces of ice . . . are falling from the sky?”

Yes, not everyone takes for granted the frosty wonders that drop on us in the north. A week ago, it seemed winter might be napping and we’d get another few weeks of classic-car and bike weather. Luckily, the weatherfolks were on the ball and I saw their forecast for today.

My friend John trades in collector cars and has a heated garage with an MGB GT’s worth of extra space. We got Maggie, my red B GT, tucked in at 9:00 last night, as close to experiencing snow as most any classic owner who doesn’t drive it year round wishes his car to get.

As the photos reveal, John is one of the Volkswagen faithful, a fan of all their now-classic models: Beetle, Thing, Karmann Ghia, Bus. He’s got an eye on the street and an ear to the ground at all times for their characteristic rounded shapes and air-cooled brumbling. He’s even got a Bradley GT–the racy aftermarket fiberglass body set on Bug running gear. The seats and interior on that car ooze ’70s glittery-plasticky charm.

For VW watchers, the cars here include ‘57 oval-window bug with sunroof, ‘59 Bug convertible, ‘72 convertible, ‘58 bus, ‘79 bus, ‘56 bus, ‘60 Karmann Ghia, ‘78 Bradley GT, ‘74 Thing (plus ‘67 GT500 clone and ‘67 Dodge Coronet 500).

Sales are brisk for John. Owners may be wary of troubled economic times or fearful values will drop, so they’re turning some cars into cash. This Shelby GT500 clone, mocked up like the car Nicholas Cage drove in the remake of Gone in 60 Seconds, is bound for Russia.

Gotta love the license plate. John also picked up a Dodge Coronet 500 convertible for himself. Always liked the late ’60s Mopar convertibles. Lotta style and room for two couples to cruise top-down on warm summer nights. (Given our short window for those each year, perhaps we enjoy them more than warm-climate dwellers.)

Whether the favor accorded right turns is perceived by the left-handed community as another in a string of indignities, I can’t say. But until lawmakers decide to make the two directions equal, right turns have priority. On a two-way road, the approaching car turning right has the right-of-way.

Unless there is a left-turn arrow, there is no left-of-way. Why? Because the left turner must cross in front of on-coming traffic, a potentially risky maneuver.

Many Twin Cities drivers assert the Wrong-of-Way, turning left along with right turners coming from the other direction. This is routine at places where a one-way road turns off a two-way one, like Park Avenue north or Portland Avenue south in Minneapolis at its junctions with any two-way cross street.

Left turners wade out into the left-most lane, assuming that the right turner will steer tight and stay right. But it’s not a foolproof prediction. The right turner may need to go left at the very next intersection or be heading to an address on the left side of the road. That driver needs to watch the road and parked cars and shouldn’t have to watch left turners barging into the way.

It’s clear why people do this–they’re in a rush, like we all seem to be–and they conclude that there’s plenty of room for them to sneak out too. Yet it’s still dangerous because it contradicts rule-abiding drivers’ expectations. Someone who lives here may anticipate left-turners plunging ahead, but what of the many visitors in rental cars or in from outlying areas for sporting events?

One bad habit breeds another. Because I don’t like to be crowded by a car not yielding the right-of-way to my turn, my inclination is to not signal, forcing the approach driver to stay put for fear I’ll drive straight into him or her.

Get lax with one rule and you start bending more of them. Pretty soon driving becomes a free-for-all and becomes more work than pleasure.

“No, we don’t have ‘the Mach 5′ (whatever that is).”

The man at J.C. Penney’s didn’t actually say this each time my younger brother, Kirk, and I approached, but we all knew the drill. We wanted that car and the expansive toy counter over which this man presided was the ordained place for it to be. The wall behind him supported a huge glass case bearing hundreds of wonderful Corgi cars. If the Mach 5 were going to appear anywhere within a grade-schooler’s world, this was the spot.

My mother took us to this place, the immense King of Prussia mall (once largest in the U.S.), every 4 to 6 weeks for a haircut. That Penney’s hadn’t had the Mach 5 last time meant nothing. It should have arrived since, and if it hadn’t, then why hadn’t it?

Corgi the crafter of dreams, the answerer of prayers. Two cars pushed the human imagination to its greatest heights–the original Batmobile and the Mach 5. Kirk and I already had the large and small Corgi Batmobiles–and they were devastatingly cool. Now we wanted the Mach 5 and no prior rejection, no matter how frequent, was going to dampen our efforts.

For the better part of ten years my brother and I trekked from Sal’s Barber Shop to the J.C. Penney toy counter to execute our warrant, but our quarry never showed. From lack of rights or some terrible BBC oversight keeping Speed Racer off British television, Corgi did not make a Mach 5. And every haircut ended in disappointment.

When I was a teenager old enough to drive, my friend Todd and I went to Franklin Toy and Novelty Company at about Third and Walnut in downtown Philadelphia. There, at last, I did find a Mach 5. It was made by a Japanese company, appropriately, and fit in the palm of the hand–bigger than a Hot Wheels but smaller than the large Corgis. The price was $60, a lot of money to a kid in the early ’80s.

By that time, I had other things on my mind and I let it go–with, I admit now, accumulating regret.

The car shown here is a larger Ertl version that a friend from England gave me as a gift when my wife I visited early in this century. Britain is finally on board. Because my wife loves Speed Racer too, it sat in her office downtown for many years. Now it’s home and I just had to pull it off its stand and snap a few pictures.

Even to a middle-aged man, there is still perfection in these lines. I didn’t see the recent and widely panned movie, which may have tainted modern car fans unfamiliar with the Trans-Lux cartoon. Old-school fans will remember it only as shown here, and here.

Go, Speed Racer. Go!