Bolus

My Day of Cone Harvesting

 

Yes, SCCA Solo Season finally started here in the Great White North. I headed up to Milwaukee for the Course and lap practice yesterday and had the blast of  the year, so far. The course consisted of a couple hours of lecture, powerpoints and youtube type video. (Many of the drivers races have in car cameras, so there really is some cool POV video out there to check out.) We went over basic tech and safety issues and then had a bar  food lunch that was quite good-tuna salad sandwich and crinkle fries. My how I love Wisconsin.

I sat with a young couple that had a pair of hopped up Civic Sis. They were the EP3 version of said car and I have found that they are pretty hated in the Honda community. I asked the young gentleman and he replied that it is a hated borne out of 2 things, McPherson suspension as well as ride height. His car was pretty tricked out, and he had very little problems creating noise and making some good lap times, however.

At the track, actually The Miller Field parking lot, there was quite a variety of low buck race cars. I was the only Fit there, so I got some odd looks from the Bimmer drivers and the Vette guys. The Honda contingent was pretty supportive and psyched that someone would bring a Fit to break. The coolest car was a Lotus Elise. The rumor was that there is a used one around the are for $35K... Wish I had a pic of that ride.

It was time for me to get my mostly stock Fit on the track as it were. I had to pump up my stock ties to 55psi in the front and 35 psi in the rear. This was to keep the sidewalls from folding. It didn't matter as I folded them anyway. I figure I put a couple of 1000 miles wear on my tires yesterday.

The car is extremely light and toss able. Power is obviously not there, so revving hard to the shift point is imperative. Got to get the car up to "speed" and then roll it through the turns. I was extremely happy with the handling of the wee box at the limit.

My best time was a 32.2 sec. That is a pretty slow time as some of the hot Civics that have similar power were in the 27-28 second range. Of course, they had 1600-1700 lb cars with 800 lb spring rates. The red Civic above was three wheeling in every turn. He had absolutely no suspension travel. He was fast.

Two things that I need to do immediately- buy some new tires and some new wheels! Along those lines, also need an air can and a floor jack... The plan is not to jack the car too much, as that would take me out of H Stock and put me into a class that will be populated with Minis which will kill me.

I am hooked.

Read All About It

En route to your local newsstand: Garage Magazine #17, adorned by the lovely personage of Dita Von Teese perched gracefully upon the ribbed fender of Jay Leno's Bugatti Atlantique. Inside you'll find a smorgasbord of automotive amusement, including a story that almost (literally) killed me: the bizarro lost Mexican treasure epic of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth's Orbitron. More on that below, after you have a few minutes to enjoy the cover.

Where was I? Oh yeah, the Orbitron story. Snag a copy and join me as I travel to Mexico to trace the Orbitron's 40-year lost journey from glory to ignominy to redemption; along the way find out how I escaped electrocution, evaded angry gun-toting sex shop clerks, got drunk at a drive-in whorehouse, broke my ancient family curse, and became El Sapo, the honorary Mexican outlaw biker toad. Also involved: Montezuma, Billy the Kid, Hells Angels, fightin' roosters, Pancho Villa, Black Jack Pershing, and intergalactic aliens. And all of it 99 and 44/100% true. A  wee snippet of video:

Anyhoo, it's a pip. I'll be in Austin this weekend with the Garage Mag crew celebrating the issue wrap, and the fact that I lived to see it.

Home Movies

Haven't posted a home movie for a while, so here's one covering some of my activities since January 1. Locales include Chicago, Indianapolis, Palm Springs, LA, San Diego, Milwaukee, and Detroit. Music: Sonics, A Tribe Called Quest, Little Richard.

The Real Acme

[ed. note - this article was originally posted here, and my much expanded version appears in Garage Magazine #14.]

Update: Welcome visitors from FARK. Feel free to peruse the archives for more crazy junk.

Once upon a time in the postwar, before the advent of EPA and OSHA and the Consumer Products Safety Commission and weenies in bike helmets and multilingual warning stickers on stepladders, crazy people walked this earth. Good, fun-loving Americans who knew that "instructions" were something you threw in the trash along with the empty Falstaff bottles. A halcyon era filled with manly men who savored the wholesome virtues of a rugged game of un-seatbelted automotive chicken.

Where did they all go? Perhaps it was the feminization of culture, or the rise of litigation, or the cumulative toll of various maimings. All I know is that entire industries were once devoted to sating their demand: tether lawn mowers. Home blowtorches and 110 electric welders. Oly party balls. And for the kids, Jarts and clackers and Thing Makers and M-80s.  But there is one name that stands alone at the apex of the daredevilry supply industry: the Turbonique Company of Orlando, Florida.

Though the company no longer exists, mere mention of the name "Turbonique" still inspires a shudder of awe among drag racing enthusiast, the company's principle target market. Even in the Wild West atmosphere of 1960s drag racing, Its products represented the zenith of no-compromise, crazyass crazy. Recall Acme, that enigmatic mail order purveyor of catapults and jet skates to cartoon coyotes? Pikers, compared to Turbonique.

As best as I can determine, Turbonique Inc. was established in Orlando in 1962, reportedly an offshoot of a NASA space program subcontractor who was determined to establish a consumer market for rocket technology. Its founder was a Mr. Gene Middlebrooks, about whom I can find little information except a 1969 book reference. Turbonique's product line consisted of three items: "AP superchargers," "rocket drag axles," and the legendary "microturbo thrust engines." All employed the same basic rocket technology, albeit in stepped grades of insanity.

At the mild end of the Turbonique product line were its AP (for "Auxiliary Power") superchargers, so named because they had their own power supply. Unlike regular superchargers (driven by a crank pulley belt) or turbos (driven by exhaust pressure), Turbonique AP superchargers operated independently of the engine and scavenged no power from it. They appeared to be a spiral turbo with a spark plug, and were engaged with a dash-mounted switch - a sort of prehistoric Nitrous setup. When the driver threw the switch, the supercharger unit would receive liquid oxygen for ignition, and then it was fed a rocket fuel named Thermolene -Turbonique's trade name for N-propyl nitrate.  The exhaust thrust from combustion would spin a turbine impeller up to 100,000 RPM, ramming the engine with such intense boost that it essentially turned it into a giant two-stroke. Turbonique dyno-tested an AP unit on new Chevy 409 in 1963, increasing horsepower from a stock 405 to 835 -- backing up their advertised guarantee to "double your horsepower" -- although it came with a recommendation not to run the unit for more than 5 minutes and only with forged cranks, pistons and connecting rods.

Here are a few photos of Turbonique AP blowers from the company's 1966 catalog. (note "safety" cord. Heh.)

"He's scorching Western dragstrips with his turbonique AP supercharger installations. He's Dr. Gerald R. Guest of Phoenix, Arizona, who turned 146 mph in 10.21 E.T. in his turbonique blown '63 Plymouth"

So whatever became of this enigmatic drag racing physician? I really would like to know, but I have absolutely no idea. But more about him soon.

For those interested in upgraded insanity there was the Turbonique Drag Axle, which appeared to be a center section for a quick change differential - but with a mutant spaceship tumor growing from its hinder. That tumor was, in fact, a rocket engine providing direct drive to the rear axle. When not in use, the car would drive under conventional power through the front drive shaft. When the driver hit the "panic button," the rear mounted rocket would immediately engage and begin channeling One Thousand Three Hundred Thermolene-addled rocket horsepower to the rear skins. All this despite weighing a scant 100 pounds. It was advised that the driver keep his thumb on the switch during operation since, having no clutch or fuel metering, the only way to control acceleration was by shutting off the fuel supply.

What kind of nutjob would put one on his car? Quite a few as it turns out. I previously mentioned Roy Drew, the African American racer who defeated Tommy Ivo's "Showboat" with his Turbonique-sponsored Black Widow drag axle Volkswagen. Here's the catalog shot of the showdown, with the Bug clocking 9.36 ET at 168 mph.

Another: the "Tobacco King" Ford Galaxie of North Carolina. Smoke 'em if you've got 'em.

Okay, so rocket superchargers and drag axles are all well and good, but what if you really needed undiluted, industrial-grade insane? You'd be in luck, because also Turbonique provided microturbo thrust engines. Not rocket powered superchargers, or rocket powered axles, but rocket-powered rockets - pure thrust engines for horizontal speed.

Here's one application: a '64 GTO powered by "twin T-22-A Thrust engines."

Note the page caption, "AUTO JATO,'" and the following:

"The same type JATO (Jet Assisted Takeoff) kits that give aircraft short term, super performance is also applicable to automotive use."

Most of us have, at one time or another, heard the urban legend about the friend of a friend of a friend who stole a JATO motor from an Air Force base, strapped it on an Impala and ran it into a cliff side at 300 mph. If you've ever wondered where that story originally came from, here you go.

Still, even with a rocket there's a lot of weight and inertia involved in moving a large hunk of Detroit steel down a race track. That's why many discerning folks opted for the ne plus ultra of Turbonique insanity: ROCKET THRUST GO KARTS.

If you read closely in the left image you'll see quarter mile time slips in the mid-8.8s with speeds up to 160 mph. You will also see a small photo of our friend Dr. Gerald R. Guest piloting his Turbonique rocket kart, apparently to shake the empty ennui of too many 146 mph passes in a boring Plymouth. On the right, nota bene:

"TOO MUCH: The above cart, which is equipped with T-21-A engines, is considered unsafe for 1/4 mile competition as pictured. The thrust/weight ratio is such that speeds over 160 mph are reached within 4 seconds."

Turbonique, the company where safety comes first!. Such pleas for moderation fell on the deaf ears of "Captain Jack" McClurg, who eventually coaxed his Turbonique kart to over 240 mph in the early 1970s.

But hey, why stop at the drag strip? The fine folks at Turbonique provide all kinds of helpful application suggestions -- rocket propelled boats, snowmobiles, motorcycles, hovermobiles, and my favorite, the unshielded rocket turbine prop go kart:

Good for going fast, and for chopping that unsightly underbrush! Speaking of motorcycles, the '66 Turbonique catalog features this product endorsement story from an up-and-coming Montana daredevil:

"Motorcycle Daredevil Evel Knievel plans to soon jump the Grand Canyon with his Turbonique equipped, "Norton Atlas Scrambler." Many of you may have heard Evel outline his plans for the Canyon jump on the Joe Pine Radio/TV show. Evel is dead serious in his plans for the Canyon jump. He is sponsored by Goodyear Rubber Company and several other large firms. Arrangements must be made for the Canyon jump with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, Navajo Chief Raymond Hokai, and the U.S. Forestry Service. Knievel plans to make the jump next summer, and has both Montana's Senators Mike Mansfield and Lee Metcalf trying to clear the way for him. He's also contacting Arizona's Senators and Representatives."

Chew on that last piece and contrast with our current state of Federal Nannydom. Not only did people do crazy shit back then; actual U.S. Senators cheerfully pitched in to help them do crazy shit. 

Those days are long gone. Turbonique seems to have ceased operation around 1969. Original Turbonique equipment is extremely difficult to find, in part due to their extreme heavy duty use, and possibly because of deliberate destruction to avoid liability judgments. Details are sketchy, but I've heard various stories that the company folded after a series of customer explosions/accidents/deaths and the subsequent lawsuits. Even more depressing: Turbonique's "Thermolene" trademark lapsed, and is now a brand of weight loss pill.

Evel Knievel never got permission to do the Grand Canyon jump; eight years and a hundred broken bones later, Evel Knievel made a disastrous jump attempt at the Snake River Canyon. Would he have made it on the Turbonique Norton Atlas Scrambler? We will never know. His ride that day was the "X-2 Skycycle" designed by NASA engineer Bob Truax, whom Knievel would later call "an egotistical little bastard who burned up Gus Grissom on the launch pad." But that's another story.

That 1974 failure at Snake River Canyon seemed to presage a new era in the American psychological zeitgeist; the rise of safety fetishism, that patronizing nerf-ication of anything sharp or dangerous or cool. Crazy guys eventually discovered an even more destructive device than rocket powered go karts: class action attorneys. In my mind, it was the single event that ushered in the long cold Carter winter.

Will it ever get back to the way it was? I don't know, but I'm an optimistic sort.  A few weeks ago I stumbled upon this:

That there is a complete vintage Turbonique C-2-A rocket supercharger. It's out in my shop now, where I am beginning a careful restoration, and keeping my eye open for a worthy car project to use it on.

Does anybody know where I can get a canister of N-propyl nitrate?

Slots of Doom

During the winter, it takes copious doses of stupidity to keep me from going batshit insane.  That's why I and my youthful companion Hawkspawn headed north Sunday to join a group of like-minded individuals at Lucky Bob's Slot Car shop in Milwaukee, for the 3rd Annual Slots of Doom sponsored by the Primates Car Club. Believe me, nothing calms a Stage 4 case of cabin fever like high speed, 1/24 scale road rage.  Skoal!

Machine Shed of Horrors

After 42 years farming a handsome little square mile of western Iowa, my old man hung up his clodhoppers a few years ago for a well-deserved rest. Like a lot of retirees, Hawkdad decided to take up collecting, with a focus on primative farm equipment and toys. Since then he has amassed an impressive collection of unique agricultural objects; unusual hand tools, planter lids and tractor seats, turn-of-the-century advertising signage, antique toy tractors and horses. It's all interesting, but some of it is "interesting" in the same way an H.R. Giger painting is interesting: cool, mechanical, but indescribably creepy. Hooterville steampunk meets the Tower of London. Rather than try to describe it, here are some pictures I took during a recent visit.

For an unsuspecting ear of corn in 1907, this is how the harvest inquisition began: with cornhusking gloves.

For those ears that put up a big struggle, spiked thumbshrouds to strip the delicate husks.

The victims, splayed on spikes. What fate now awaits them?

You guessed it: the box sheller. Hawkdad owns about 100 of these of various vintage and design.

And for those who really put up a struggle, the dreaded Corn King. Hawkdad has more than a dozen similar floor shellers.

From there, their still-beating kernels are fed into the crucible of the bin separator.

But corn is hardly the only vegetable to face doom in this tableau of the macabre. Pity the poor apple skinned alive by the fiendish cast iron Kleen Kutter:

Or those stubborn pecans who face the wrath of high-leverage nut crackers.

And this is only the vegetable portion of our tour. Let's now turn to the animal devices. Pregnant women, persons with heart ailments and PETA member are encouraged to exit now.

Bull pullers: insert one of these in the snout of a recalcitrant bovine, grip tight, and he will follow you anywhere.

Calf weaners, designed to hasten the transition to solid food. Put one of these babies on a calf's snout, and his momma will be less than enthusiastic about the whole nursing experience.

Are your cattle goring one another in the livestock pen? Nip that problem in the bud with the "Leavitt Dehorning Clippers."

Ham technology: snout ringers, hog pullers, and ear-notchers.

Hog snout bobbers, wire fence cow yoke, and a couple of devices you don't even want to know about. Trust me.

Thus concludes our tour of Hawkdad's Little Dungeon on the Prairie, gift shop is on your left. Sweet dreams, and remember: if your car ever breaks down at night on a lonely two lane Iowa blacktop, be careful whose door you go knocking on.

UPDATE! From Coop (with apologies to Grant Wood), "Iowa Cenobite"

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Originally posted here

I Heart Jay Ward

I don't think anything permanently warped me as much as exposure to the work of Jay Ward, the animator who created "The Bullwinkle and Rocky Show" and "George of the Jungle" (not to mention cereal superstar Captain Crunch). That signature combination of flat, planar UPA art with Tom Lehrer -style intellectual gags made us preteen viewers feel we were part of a subversive, sophisticated club. Even if we didn't get all the jokes about Norman Mailer and Everett Dirksen.

My favorite Ward efforts were some of his lesser known. Obvious top of the list is Tom Slick,  who ran third banana to George of the Jungle and Super Chicken.

Speaking of Super Chicken: The Case of the Missing Rhode Island!

And the immortal hero of the skies: Roger Ramjet!

Boogerballs!

Hot rods, Schmot rods. Sometimes nothing with four wheels can bring a smile like a good old fashioned European clown car. Our pal Cal Spitzer forwards a link to Boogerballs, an awesome site from auto artist Jeff Loughridge dedicated to the wonderful world of postwar Marshall Plan microcars - Goggomobils, Vespas, Messerschmitts, Zundapps, DAFs, you name it. Here's a quick sample --

Volugrafo Bimbo

Fuldamobil N2

Such A Supple Wrist

Mister Jalopy just found a sweet near-mint Captain Fantastic pinball machine, a castoff that a neighbor had set out at the curb for the trashman. (We should all be so lucky!) Captain Fantastic is one of my favorite Bally electro-mechanical pinballs from the seventies, and a sister machine to my Wizard pinball, and both are, along with Fireball, in my all-time top three. All three machines feature artwork by the king of pinball artists, Dave Christensen.

Few outside the world of serious pinball maniacs would recognize Christensen's name, but I consider him a major influence on my own work, despite the fact that I only learned his name less than a decade ago. I grew up in the seventies, and I can distinctly remember playing machines designed by Christensen, and being mesmerized by the blinking tableaus of lowbrow decadence, images filled with lots of in-jokes, eyeball kicks and a heaping helping of big-boobed sexy girls that tantalized my adolescent libido.

There's not a lot of background info on Christensen on the internet, beyond some basic biographical stuff. (I did just order this book, which I found whilst Googling for this post!) Most of the artists of that era worked for the silkscreen company in Chicago (Ad Posters) that screened backglass and playfields for all the pinball companies, but Christensen started at Bally, writing operators manuals, before becoming an artist for the company. He ended up co-designing and providing artwork for some of the best pinballs of the era.

Like the rock star that he is, Christensen is best remembered for one of his earliest hits, Fireball. From 1972, Fireball is generally considered one of the best electro-mechanical pinballs ever, with features like zipper flippers, multiball play (a real novelty at the time) and a spinning rubber disc "Grabber". While the linework isn't as accomplished as his later work, already his trademarks are evident, with sophisticated hand lettering on the playfield, a brilliant color scheme, and a detailed belt buckle worn by the blazing demon on the backglass. Bally tried to make lightning strike twice with Fireball II, but it was an early victim of the pinball malaise of the post-Pac Man era, and sadly not as good as the original.

Fireball was a huge success at the time, and Christensen became Bally's star artist. All through the seventies, Christensen created a series of beautiful machines, all the while developing his idiosyncratic style with pinballs like Monte Carlo, Bon Voyage, Ro Go, Twin Win, Air Aces, Old Chicago, and on and on. Christensen's deft handling of celebrity likenesses meant he also produced art for several cool licensed machines as well, beginning with Capt. Fantasic & Wizard, both created as a tie-in with the film version of The Who's Tommy. Christensen did machines for Dolly Parton, The Six Million Dollar Man, and Bobby Orr's Power Play, a machine I remember fondly, having shoved endless quarters into it at a local bowling alley, when I was a mere pup.

Another favorite of mine as a kid, that I hope to eventually add to my collection, is Voltan Escapes Cosmic Doom. From 1978, it's a full-blown work of mature genius from Christensen, here at the height of his powers. The backglass is unbelieveably baroque, evoking old Republic serials, classic sci-fi pulp illustrations, and the airbrushed faux-Frazetta van murals of the era, combined with a wink of camp, and oozing sleazy sex appeal. Just Fucking Awesome. Despite my prejudice against digital scoring, I would buy this one in a heartbeat.

One last thing, a few years ago, a private collector commissioned Christensen to do a backglass for an X-Rated Pinball, called Big Dick. The NSFW image can be seen here. I'm happy to report that I have this backglass in my collection!