Kickin' Rocks

with Don Pennington

The Stuff on the Nail... Bye Bye Auntie Mabel

Have you ever gone to a car guy's house and didn't see any car parts? This is okay if you are a  golfer and rose grower type (not that there is anything wrong with that), but for car freaks this is unacceptable! A hot rod garage without parts is just plain weird, parts are required if you are a car guy. I visited such a weirdo not long ago, actually he's a good guy, parked in his driveway was this killer Chev pick-up, all the right stuff, cool upholstery, one-off wheels from that Foose person and a really rumpy small block guaranteed to fill those perfectly painted rear fenders up with all sorts of projectiles. But there were no parts sitting around.  He has this big shop, but the only thing in there is a car trailer... no parts. Now... we all appreciate being neat and tidy, but not having anything lying around that fits a car... well there is just something wrong here. Giving him the benefit, I thought he probably had a building out back where the greasy stuff is and maybe a special room in the house filled with old oak showcases full or all sorts of one-off rod-bilia. But looking around all I saw was crisply manicured lawns and shrubs carved into great galloping horses and giant cupids, no parts cars, rusty fenders or even a grease spot on the driveway. I think he's a commie.

Collecting parts is the cornerstone of the car hobby, some think they have the cat by the ass with three or four cover cars parked around on one of those shiny Terrazzo floors, but truth be known, the guy we all really envy is Mr. coveralls in his 1948 oil soaked motorcycle boots and washed last month t-shirt shuffling over his dirt floor lean-to (one of several) perusing the piles of parts (mostly NOS) like W.C. Fields and his scissors pulling just the right piece of paper out of a giant pile on his roll-up desk. It's one of those underground deals we all hear stories about like some great 200 year old hermit behind a big board fence and surrounded by chain dragging dragon dogs. We all want to be him but have other worldly commitments to keep in mind, but we can use him as a mentor, a role model if there ever was one... except for maybe the coveralls.   

Hot rodders need their stuff, and they need goals, things to look forward to like car projects. Nothing keeps the fires burning better than cool parts hanging on the garage wall, especially when it's something your buddies would kill for, you hang those right up front where they can be seen.  Finding the stuff can be a challenge but usually doesn't slow a real car guy down much, and getting it home sometimes looks like it might be a big deal but nothing that can't be overcome with a six pack or two for "the boys", but it's the warehousing that can be the real test of a parts hoarders worth. Some guys have "that's okay with me" wives, she doesn't mind the dead Vega sitting in driveway since 1978 because you might use the steering box.... some day, or the canoe on top of the Vega that may get a V8 someday, for the kids to enjoy of course, maybe with a blower and a little nitro. There are two categories for parts that we hoard, there are "keepers"... those things that don't fit on a car but are car worthy, like giant Bob's Big Boy statues, ceiling mounted traffic signals or a urinal from the old garages at Indianapolis Motor Speedway... and actual car parts that go on a car, for that future project.

What separates us from the old guy behind the fence is that we have certain things to consider when "displaying" our new finds. One cast in stone item is where to park the wife's car, she said it has to be within 300 feet of the front door and on the same street as the house. Can do. Another is leaving  a clear path from the kitchen to the washing machine, this of course is good with us because of our unending need for clean t-shirts... jeans and underwear not so much. And lastly, we need to close the garage door most of the way each night so leave a little room there. Parts are usually restricted to the garage, but from time to time you can leave a really good piece just inside the kitchen door, when it appears to be in the wife's way you can... "oh honey let me get that out of your way", resulting in advancement towards it's final resting place. You can only do this a couple of times a year. Sooner than later the garage fills up, all the walls are full, garage sale shelving stuffed full and all manner of creative hanging devices resulting in a nice bow in the roof trusses. When you get a visit from the Fire Department of the City Structural Engineer, you may be close to capacity.

Have no fear, there are other places to store this stuff. We are all pretty creative when bolting parts on a car, here is your chance to use that creativity elsewhere. Build the deck your wife always wanted, with the occasional back-up hot rod motor holding up a new table or a spare frame doubling as a roof truss.  Integrating your stuff with house stuff is a real art form, having the gas pump next to the garage door is a gimmee, not much resistance there but it does start things off in the right direction, and best of all, you have successfully invaded the flower zone... full speed ahead!!! At this point what you "call" your stuff becomes important, instead of car parts, maybe call it "yard art". Wives like it when you help in the yard. You can disguise a whole bunch of stuff in one or two piles of yard art. The real payoff to all this comes at Thanksgiving time. Aside from your unbridled gratitude towards the Pilgrims for discovering Turkey, if you timed it right and have done all your "landscaping" since last Thanksgiving, the impression you will make on your in-laws can be worth a million bucks, assuring they may never return. That "what the hell is that" shock as they slide to a stop in the middle of the street when greeted by your new yard image, maybe a Bob's Big Boy statue holding a traffic light sitting in a model A or ‘32 roadster body with the collectible Indy urinal for a grille shell replacing the standard cement lawn jockey, ...now that's cool!  See ya later Auntie Mabel.

Kick a Rock

DP