Kickin' Rocks

with Don Pennington

Fume Sniffers and 44 Magnums

Saturday is sacred hot rod ground, it's THE most important time in the week, second only to taking the wife out to dinner of course. There are only certain things that you should be doing on Saturday morning and mowing the lawn or anything else on that now infamous honey-do list is not included, especially since you mowed the grass before you went to work the other morning, kinda hard to see the lawn before dawn but close is good and you might have pissed the neighbors off a little, but it's done and Saturday is open. It's car day, you've been waiting all week carefully moving other "priorities and distractions" around on you queer eye Gucci day planner so this morning is clear. Some of these Saturdays are really special Saturdays, like the day you were to pick-up the last parts of your car from the paint shop, after finally finishing the two month paint job in a record year and a half and of course running over budget a like amount, you are now ready to show the world what a cool car builder you are. On this particular Saturday, you have made special arrangements to pick up the last two fenders from the paint shop because the fume sucking fuzz brain Van Gogh wannabe had something to do on Friday, so the shop was closed, closed on Friday!  And now it's Saturday fricken morning at oh-dark-thirty you are sitting in your truck with fog on the outside and steam on the inside, huddled in the not warm enough coat waiting for this yahoo. Two cups of hot chocolate later (it's three blocks to the donut shop and takes your buddy about twelve and a half minutes to make the round trip), anyway two cups later and now real close to 9 A.M. someone is finally coming down the street. Looks like he's headed here, but nope, passed by. Then another, and another still nobody that smells like paint or Mary Giwanna and then finally this used up Pinto sneaks in behind you when you weren't looking. The Pinto wrangler  moseys up to your door and taps on the window, it's not your guy but before you can roll the window down the idiot starts talking, so you have to give him a "what?". He starts over but it still takes serious concentration to understand the moron, apparently his boss, the fuzz brain, won't be here, he had a late nigh and is sleeping in.  What is the story with these I've got your money-I'll get it done when I am good and ready prima donna self righteous freaks? We know they can count and use a phone (as long as it's not a dialer), but why can't they read a calendar or tell time? Bad guys... I say? How do you know the bad guys... you say? How about a scarlet body hammer tattooed on the forehead or you could just pick somebody, take your prize possession over there, plus a five grand downer, then sit back for a year or to and see what happens. That'll work, don't ya think.

Now this is certainly not any commentary on painters in particular or any certain builder/painter/upholsterer/or whatever types, because we all know great craftsmen who do things the way they should be done, on time and every once in a while... on budget! I personally am on the plus side of the ledger, the guy that painted my car was ahead of schedule, did a super job, and even gave me money back! When was the last time you heard of that happening? (Kevin Bishoff, Vancouver, Washington). It's not just the hot rod and custom world where the bad stuff happens, but I bet if you ask around you'll find that many of the bad car shop owners used to be vinyl siding salesmen/installers... or unlicenced home remodelers... or blacktop experts. I guess the bad apples are everywhere, in everything and apparently rod and custom building has become big enough that the crooks are slithering into any crack they can find with a dime in it. No matter what your interests might be you have seen or heard of somebody doing the dirty to somebody. (This has never happened to me personally, I just got back from the chrome shop so excuse me for a minute while I spread some of this medicated goop up my backside.)

The are a lot of laws in this world, not law...laws, but Murphy kinda laws. You know, things like... if you drop a bolt while working on your car you won't find it until immediately after you finish the job , or... nobody's allowed to tell you your stop lights don't work until after you get the ticket. But there should be a law about these freaks. Some of these laws seem to encourage rather than deter, like... being a jerk and a cheat will let them stay in business long after the real craftsmen and honest guys are gone. Not always true of course, but it's accurate more often than we'd like. One good thing about these laws, especially the Murphy style and unwritten ones, they let you and I make them up to best suit us best. This can be for fun like messing with a buddy about wearing t-shirts when it's ten below outside or more serious things like calling attention to one of those bondo kings. These weirdos are coming in from the outside taking advantage of us poor naive hot rodders, goodness knows nobody from within the hobby would screw his buddies, would he? If you believe that we'll send you a decal for the newest hot rod organization on the block, the Naive and Stupid Rodders of America.  

Meanwhile...across town...about a year ago I was out taking an afternoon cruise, enjoying the warm and sunny weather when I came across this Victorian style house being built. Parking nearby under a tree I commenced to watch the action, and just possibly get the all-necessary nap. Soon I realized that being Saturday, there wasn't any action except a guy pointing the stone work on the houses foundation. He was a normal looking guy, a little pouchy, graying hair, about fifty something or so... a normal hot rod kinda guy. It was apparent even at that distance that he knew his stuff. Talking with him he explained that he had been doing this for almost 30 years, learned it from his father. Curious about things I asked if he stayed busy with what I thought might be a dying craft, his response was that he hadn't missed a day in years and is booked up for months to come. He said "if you put a good stone on top of another good stone, the foundation will stand for a lifetime". Imagine that.

Often the scum bag bad guys are really talented and if you took the soft part of their brain out and jumped up and down on it, they could probably build some pretty cool stuff. Why can't they get the job done? Motivation? Money? Hell it can't be money, they have yours and a couple of other guys too. How about a 44 Magnum clicking in their ear reminding about the due date, or a free membership in the deadly-snake-in-your-mail-box-once-a-week club. I really don't think you can "inspire" these people, all they want is for you to leave them alone (after they get your bucks) so they can go do whatever it is they do with the twenty two hours a day they aren't in the shop.

After it's all said and chewed on, the best thing is word of mouth, or one of those laws. Here's your chance to be a poet and a social activist at the same time. Murphy says "If you only get three strikes in baseball and the Good Humor man is here at noon,  the fume sniffers should always be open on Saturdays". (I don't understand it either, my brain's a little slow because of all those years of mask free lacquer painting).    

Kick an EMPTY paint can

DP