Tuesday, November 30, 2010

"Code 13"

Grabbing a smoldering cup of coffee, I planted myself down to check my email. The dispatch came from fellow blog follower, Bob Lampert. He had passed " A Quarter Past Nine" onto an ol' buddy of his and here's what came back.

"Wow! What a trip to the past. 58-60, I spent a lot of time "Cruising El Cajon Blvd". As I recall, the routine was Oscar's next to Hoover High School then out to Dobb's in La Mesa with occasional side trips to the Oscars' on L.V. Rd., Midway and Rosecrans, and the drive-in at 32nd and El Cajon on the North side of the St. Remember the "Purple Cow" on Mission Gorge Rd?
I had a 29' Model A roadster with a big flathead that I drove at Paradise Mesa on rare occasions and then there was always "Hourglass Field" or the "Straight on Mission Gorge Rd.
Right after I went into the Army I heard from friends that they had "Drag Race Riots" on El Cajon Blvd. The PD even came up with radio codes for drag racing. As I recall "Code 12" was Drag races eminent and "Code 13" was Drag races in progress. That was on one of the radio code cards I got way back when.
The picture below, maybe my old memories are distorted a bit but I don't recall a B of A on the South side of El Cajon Blvd. across from Oscars. Oscars was on the North west corner of a T intersection. There was a side lot that faced the Oscar's building that ran North and South on the West side of the building and the main parking area in the back ran East and West.
The "Other" car lot, remember the "House of Hardtops", Euclid and El Cajon?
You are right, "What a wonderful time to grow up."


--Doug Henderson

Doug's memory is pretty good...the photo was from the El Cajon Oscars, no B of A, and I'll find a photo of "House of Hardtops." Anyway, that's what this blog is all about. It's meant to inspire, have fun, day dream, and open thoughts about the coolness of car culture.

But, lastly, it's also about sharing your opinions, so don't forget to hit the comment button at the bottom of the posts.

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Saturday, November 27, 2010

A Quarter Past Nine

As I passed the corner, I glanced back over my shoulder...it was gone. Years later all that stood there was a strip mall. Sad I thought, I remember a time when kids cruised this, the longest drag strip in San Diego. It was an iridescent neon lit El Cajon Boulevard dotted with a Chevy dealer swarming with Corvettes, a Ford dealer with Shelby GT350s out front, and even San Diego Motor Imports with Porsches in formation on the lot. But that wasn't all, it had a Bob's Big Boy, an A&W Root Beer stand and the best Oscars Drive-in you could believe. All there, just waiting for us.

I then caught myself slowly sliding back to the day I had just finished putting the engine back in my 356 coupe and took her there for a check out run.

I let her creep slowly up the parking lot driveway, careful not to leave any of the low hanging engine and stinger on the sidewalk. I idled down the lane, slowly rolling past some of the wildest iron cruising the Boulevard. They were all gathered here, as they did every Friday and Saturday night to see who was the coolest, the bitchiness, and the fastest.

Oscars was packed, it was legendary, bigger than the A&W...but A&W did have those mugs...what a cool souvenir to get away with. Anyway, the Oscars drive-in had a parking area out behind and along side the restaurant where drivers could pull in and 'car hops' would come out to the car and take an order. Often cars lined up and looped around waiting for an open space.

This time I had to circle three times to find an open spot. Once you got into an Oscars drive-in space you stayed until a better prospect lured you away. A better prospect meant...a party, a girl, or a drag race.

This Oscars was located in El Cajon, but looked similar. It's sad with progress not one of the original Oscars exist today. Image via.

Most of the cars that showed up on those nights were cool. A car had to have a look, a sound, a stance, something that announced it as badass. If you were cool, no way did you have to explain your car. Did Van Gogh explain his passion? If you had it, you had it. If you didn't, no amount of explanation would help. That's still how it goes today at club events. However, everyone's rides back then were as diverse as rock'n'roll. They could be street rods, muscle cars, sports cars or drag cars. They just had to be modified from the way they rolled out of the factory and they had to be mean.

Anyway, once I got parked I would place my order then climb out, walking around the cars sizing up the competition, sharing observations with the other guys, but always avoiding to answer questions about the engine in my Porsche. I still do...so don't ask, not cool. By the time I got back my order was sitting on a plastic tray, hooked to the side of my door. A big cheese burger, fries and a chocolate shake, the usual. I gently opened the door so not to upset the shake, and slid down into the drivers seat clicking the door closed behind me.

There was a black Shelby Cobra 427 parked next to me and as I ate, I soaked up every detail. The chrome rollbar had a fire extinguisher strapped to the support bar running diagonally down into the cockpit. A tach I could read from where I was sitting had it's face tilted so 8,000 RPM was at twelve o'clock. Eight grand from a big block...nasty. This was no ordinary Cobra, it was an 'SC'...really nasty!

Something was happinin'. The driver buckled his lap belt, reached to the dash and flipped a switch. The electric fuel pump went to work ticking away. He cracked the butterflies open on the Webers and cranked it once. The beast instantly barked to life, belching raw fuel out the side exhaust pipes.

The deep throaty, resonating howl filled the drive-in like the hammering beat of a Janis Joplin tune. My half-empty shake jittered across the plastic tray and my rear view mirror was just a blur. Every head in the place had swiveled around instantly to see what had come to life.

The driver paid no attention to the onlookers. His eyes were riveted on the gauges. He punched the Webers full open, a deafening concussion reverberated up from the floorboad to my feet, through my butt and danced off my hands onto a vibrating wood steering wheel. My mouth opened and I let out a loud yell at the shock and poetry of the noise, but no sound came from my mouth. In that instant, all other sounds in the world were eliminated.

A second later the noise level dropped to just a ringing sound in everyone's ears. The piercing blast was replaced by a seemly impossible, radical lope of a full-race engine. You could hear the explosions in each cylinder, almost dying between breaths. It was paradise!

The driver goosed it once more, just a little, to clear the snakes throat, and slipped it into reverse. As he looked around to back out, he noticed me staring and lifted his chin slightly in my direction, the universal sign when your cool. I gave him a thumbs up, my seal of approval on his ride. He gave me a grin...yeah, he was cool. As he pulled out of the parking lot, all heads in parked cars were craning for a peek at the taillights of that glossy black demon.

I suddenly realized that I could hear my 8 track again as I dug through my Levis for burger money, and then I heard what could only be the Cobra. A thundering blast of a screaming big block and squealing tires erupting from El Cajon Boulevard as he was burning rubber with a white-hot cloud looming up.

The sweet burning perfume of Goodyear Blue Streaks wafted through Oscars.

Yeah, it was a quarter past nine, just another night at the drive-in. What a wonderful time to grow up.

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The inspiration to write about this came from a story I read some time ago by Jack Dolan. 

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Porsche Tapiro...One-Off

I've been sitting on this post for a few months, because it's kinda' boilerplate...and other posts that were more timely kept popping up. But, here goes, the reason I like it, the comparison from German design and engineering with the 914 to Italian design. For all my 914 buddies out there, this one's for you. One only wonders, if the Porsche designers had come up with this, how it would have sold? What do you think?

The Porsche Tapiro was designed in 1970 by Giorgetto Giugiaro of Ital Design. It was Giugiaro's 4th prototype at Ital and one of his favorite at the time. It was based on the Porsche 914/6 platform and featured a mid mounted 2.4 litre flat 6 cylinder Porsche engine, giving 220 bhp and 7200 rpm with a theoretical top speed of 143 mph. There car had gullwing doors and the profile of the windscreen was almost the same angle as the bonnet. The name came from a long-nosed animal called the "Tapir."

Giorgetto Giugiaro penning the Tapiro.


Porsche Tapiro exhibited on the Ital Design stand in 1970 at the Turin Motor Show.


Even as a one-off prototype the car was delivered to the show as a fully operational and road-going model.


Photo shoot in Italy.


Photo shoot in Italy.

The gull-wing doors opened like those of the Mercedes 300 SL, and behind the cabin, divided by a strong central tunnel, was a narrow 'Targa' bar. Extending to the rear were two large top hinged doors, giving access to the engine and to luggage space.


To handle the road it had 8x15 in. rims in the front and 10x15 in. rims at the rear. The image below shows the car sitting on Minilite wheels, however it came originally equipped with it's own custom Italian designed rims in images above.

It was purchased by a wealthy Spanish industrialist after the show who used the car as a daily driver until the car was literally blown up by terrorists protesting its owner’s labor policies. The rusted remains now rest in an Italian Museum. Hopefully someday the car will be restored.

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Thursday, November 18, 2010

Day in The Life... Barona Antique Drags

It was lunch time as I walked up and down the staging lanes at my local strip. All was quite now, only the far off jabber of people in the background heading for the wooden tube steak stand. Looking left and right I shuffled along, checking out the iron on a hot sunny day. I could feel the trickle of sweat running down my back. There were lots of cars, most not impressive, then I spotted it sitting there. It drew me like a blinded moth to a white hot light at midnight.

You could smell the juicy patina dripping off this rod. Not many rides stop me in my tracks any more...but this one did.

In an age of anonymous car shapes, this one was different. There was an artists hand in the build of this thing. It had the stance, the look and the motor to make this a badass mother.

The cab is old Dodge truck...The Dodge Bros. at their best.

A creative use in old tin for the interior. But what really caught my eye was, "Driver Carries No Cash" inscribed on the side...it's the story of my life!

With 'Old School' type slicks and a bed by Ford...with the classic "See Ya!" What more could you ask for? This ride was bitchen!

As I angled close to take in the delight of the small details, I could see a shadow looming behind me, was it the owner, the builder, the artist? I could feel his eyes burning on the back of my head like a magnifying glass on an ant struggling across the sidewalk. I turned around trying not to show my emotions, I thought, remember look cool. I said "nice car"...he just smiled and gave me wink.

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Monday, November 15, 2010

Hey Brigette

Thought I would post an image of a Lancia. Or, is it an image of Brigette Bardot perched on the front fender of a Lancia Flaminia. Anyway...just a cool photo of both of them in 60s sheik. It's also kinda'...James Bondish, don't you think?

If you don't know Lancia has built some blindingly fast Rally cars, but this one, not so fast, is the Flaminia which was launched with a 2,458 cc V-6 engine from the start that produced power of 140 bhp. The Flaminia was specially developed as a six-seater for wealthy persons. The Flaminia was one of the most expensive Italian cars and was therefore much favoured by politicians and film stars. It was built from 1958-1967, with 5287 produced. They are now spotted at Italian Concours held at the likes of Monterey Car Week.

The Hotel Miramonti, which is surrounded by Dolomites, is situated next to the Catinaccio Ski Area in Italy. She must have been on a ski holiday with buddies.

Image via

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Friday, November 12, 2010

Harper

It seems with me and maybe all of us, there are movies that get stuck in our soul. For me at a young age it could have been the imagination of freedom, being out in the real world, cruisin' in a cool car, and getting a bitchen lookin' chick.

Back in 1966 I was driving my '59 Porsche coupe, life was good...and what better thing to do on a Saturday night, but grab your main squeeze and head to the drive-in movies. The movie was 'Harper' and the one thing that made a lasting impression on me? The 'Speedster' that Paul Newman drove in the movie. Within a few short weeks I was selling my coupe and driving an open Porsche Roadster, imagining myself as Mr. Newman...minus the steel blue eyes. Life was even better now.

It was a typical L.A. P.I./detective movie of it's time with scenes of the beaches, Santa Monica mountains, and lots of tough guy stuff.

This was really the first Porsche I ever remember seeing in a movie...and shortly after, the values of Speedsters started to head north, slowly at first.

No fiberglass "Kit Car" back then...it was the real deal with faded "Meissen Blue" paint with red oxide primer on the door and fender!


The long and short of the movie is, after rescuing Betty Fraley (Julie Harris), Harper drives her to the docks to find a kidnap victim (Bacalls husband). Then comes the chase scene where Betty Fraley steals Harper's Speedster and he gives chase in a Lincoln Continental through the Santa Monica mountains. The idea that a Lincoln Continental could keep up with a Speedster through those curves is amusing. The explanation by Harper to his sidekick is that the car is slow because "I haven't changed the plugs in that crate for thirty thousand miles." The chase scene ends with the Speedster taking a dive off the road.

All four wheels off the ground the Speedster takes flight rocketing down the hill.


As the car comes to a stop the rear decklid flies open!

Harper gets out of the Lincoln and runs down the hill after the Speedster to the road below. Then there is a shot from inside the car looking out through the cracked windshield with Harper looking in. A limp arm is shown implying that Fraley has been killed.


So, what ever happened to the Speedster and was this the turning point where the values of Speedsters started to climb? One thing's for sure, Harper and his Speedster certainly had the "COOL FACTOR." As for values, one can only wonder. For me, life went on and I soon came to the realization, much to my dismay, that I was not Mr. Newman. But, I did get a bitchen chick!

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Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Stayin' Alive

I spotted this image of a 'Big' Healey and it instantly catapulted me back to those adolescent years. Not only did one of my good buddies terrorize the streets around our High School in one, but he took me with him as a witless accomplice. Check out the image of the Village Purple Onion Discotheque that was at 135 West 3rd, Street, Greenwich Village.

I'm betting that it's the early to mid 70's in New York City with the go-go dancers perched on the car. I can just feel the beat of the Bee Gees and Donna Sommers vibrating my inner ear drums, the sparkle of the disco ball and see the shimmer coming off the polyester wear.

Come to think about it, maybe the girls were the pit crew for this hard driving racer. Let's hear it for good old British Iron.

 Jimi Hendrix rocked the Onion in the photo below a few years earlier most likely around 1966.

Jimi on the left with Nate Edmonds on the organ, Curtis Knight center guitar, Marion Booker hammering the drums, and Napoleon Anderson with the bass.

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Saturday, November 6, 2010

Ode To Motorsport

I don't do videos on the blog about racing very often...but for this one...it's a different story. This is one of the best collections of some old, but mostly new film clips from racing events I've ever seen...by far.

It's about 4 minutes long, turn the music up, hit 'YOU TUBE' to expand and enjoy, you'll wish it was longer.

Trust me and watch it!


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Friday, November 5, 2010

Ramona Drag Strip

Old race tracks of the past...have a "Special Life" about them, whether road race tracks, dry lakes, ovals or drag strips, they were there for one purpose...to go as fast as you could and beat whomever you could. Simple as that.

This one was called "San Diego Raceway" at Ramona, California. It began life in about 1963 after what was termed the "San Diego Rodders Riot." The location was just north-west outside the small town.

There was not much there except for a pit area, a few grandstands, a timing tower and a strip to race on. One good thing, it was a safe place for kids to race....but it not only drew the kids, it also drew the pros.

Back when I had just turned sixteen, I headed off to go racing. For a kid in that day really the only racing one could do was "drag racing." Ramona was the place. This is a photo of the first trophy I ever won, it reads "San Diego Dragway At Ramona"...still have the trophy...always will.
Here, the flagmen lets them go. This photo was taken before the use of the "Christmas Tree" lights.

Two front engined dragsters lite them up. Dragsters were still trying to hit the 200mph mark back then.

A Willys in the near lane sponsored by "Jacks Muffler Service...San Diego" gets the jump going against the Mercury Comet of "Dyno" Don Nicholson. Don was a very well known national drag racer back in the day, first driving Chevys then mostly Ford powered cars. Images via.

A few days ago I was reminiscing about Ramona with a friend of mine, blog follower Keith Nelson. He had also raced there back then. He was telling me about the time a car called "The Green Monster," a jet powered exhibition racer built by Art Arfons blew down the fence behind the staging area on some cars as it fired up for a run down the drag strip.

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Related posts: Ramona Drags, As Talked About, The Accident

Monday, November 1, 2010

VOTE...Early, VOTE...Often!

Enthusiasts Unite! Join with us in supporting the candidacy of Dan Gurney, running on a platform of unbridled automotive enthusiasm. Neither the Republicans nor the Democrats have taken any interest in the keen drivers' needs, hopes, desires, or innermost dreams, so we say the hell with them! We'll create a third stream—a vital new force in American politics that will sweep old ladies and small town speed traps from the highways and restrict winding two-lane roads to drivers of proved enthusiasm and skill. All drivers will have to pass through something like Carroll Shelby's school at Riverside, or one of the good English or European driving schools—the failures to be banished to public transportation. This will serve the dual function of improving local and state revenues, making railroads, airlines and local surface transportation companies solvent again, and clearing the jerks off the roads so that we paragons of impeccable, high-speed driving can have our way. Circa...1974.




If only life could be that simple!


More info via.

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