Bolus

Professor Jonathan's French Letter....

...from Prius.

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Professor Jonathan:

France:

Burge Brain Guide

Just a quickie before I self-medicate myself to sleep this A.M. here in Prius... I came across this revolutionary new system while slogging around on the Intertubes and immediately thought of the plight of Burge's kids, Hawkspawn and Hawkette, desperately trying to understand the often bizarre and erratic behavior of their strange Papa Iowahawk... 

Is Burge's Brain Hitting on all Cylinder(s)? 

Must be some kind of a Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance thing going on here, thought Professor Jonathan, with Burge simultaneously playing the role of the young boy and the diversely-obsessed psycho father.  Not an easy situation, but one which the Good Professor is presently going to rectify by explaining how this new scientific method - originally designed to be used for understanding "the under-developed brains of teens"  - can also be employed for getting through to adults whose brains have yet to mature.  In a word, people like Dave Burge.

Let's take a closer look here....

By gum, looks good to me already: this is the kind of banner-ad I always click on without hesitation - especially when I see the word stiff in it. A sure sign that something good is sure to follow!

Now just take Professor Jonathan's advice and do a bit of creative editing on the contents: every time you see 'teen' just think 'Burge' and each time there's a reference to the mischievous things teens aren't supposed to do, like setting up a meth lab in Mom's kitchen or lighting up a doobie in math class, just substitute the three basic Burge 'H's: hooch, hoopties and hooters.

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The careful study of this method will enable you to learn why Burge acts the way he does – and how you can help him make healthy decisions, avoid dangerous risk-taking, and prevent substance alcohol abuse. Videos of teens and a parent management expert, along with helpful tools, show kids what to ask, what to say, and what to do.  See, you don't even have to think any more, since they've done all the thinking for you. 

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This ribbing of Onca Dave aside, Professor Jonathan's Lesson of the Day is exactly that: beware of people who've done all the thinking for you - no matter how good or noble the cause.  This is actually one of the subtler points of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" - and one which most people miss, since to put it as politely as possible, parts of the book are fucking unreadable for average idiots like us. In addition to being really dangerous - in this case, the poor bastard in the story literally drove himself nuts by using his reason to try to map existence out to the last nanometer - you have to avoid people like that at all costs if you want to preserve your own sanity.

And even if this is neither Burge's nor my problem anymore, try and make sure it doesn't become yours.

Class dismissed.

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Now get the hell out of here and let me have some quality time with Poopzilla the Pigeon. 

Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em

Ah, Spring; when a man's fancy turns to thoughts of... rocket-powered muscle cars.

It was that primordial biological urge that drove me to Indianapolis last weekend for the Mecum Muscle Cars & More Auction. Over 800 drool-inducing classics went up on the auction block, but only one really mattered -- the immortal Zach Reynolds "Tobacco King" 1964 Galaxie 500. You might say this is the ultimate hybrid car: up front, 427 cubic inches of Latham-supercharged Side Oiler. In back, 900 screaming horses of Thermolene-fueled Turbonique Rocket drag axle power. In the pantheon of automotive crazy this car is Zeus, Thor, Leviathan, and Shiva, a hydra-headed Destroyer of Worlds clad in Detroit sheet metal.

As some of you know, I set out with the confused intention of bringing it home with me. Alas, it was not to be. But the good news: I got to drive it across the auction stage. Come along with me for a little ride.

Those of you watching the proceedings on the High Definition Theater cable TV network this weekend might have caught a quick glimpse of Yours Truly struggling to keep the Tobacco King's drum brakes engaged against the irresistible force of the 427. Current Tobacco King owner Eddie Krusch unwisely invited me to pilot the car across the red carpet, and, without a doubt, it was the most awe-inspiring 5 mph ride I've ever had. As they say in North Carolina, day-um.

Here's how this bizarre turn of events went down. Friday I bombed downed to Indy with a quick stop for provisions at Krazy Kaplan's Fireworks in Gary. Oy vey, such kabooms!

Then a quick stop at the Brownsburg, IN shop of my ol' buddy and upholstery guru Dave Martinez.

Dave's shop is in an area lousy with race teams. A couple of the neighbors - John Force and Don "The Snake" Prudhomme.

After dinner at Steak N Shake, headed over to the Indiana State Fairgrounds to check out the auction action. Some amazing iron (like the ZL1 Camaro below that fetched $800,000) and equally amazing neon.

But nothing like the Tobacco King. Owner Eddie Krusch and I have been trading emails and phone calls for a while, so I thought I'd be prepared before I saw the car. My 30 minutes of uncontrolled mouthular frothing said different. Complete and unrestored, the car has only 3166 miles on the clock.

After catching 80 winks at Days Inn I headed back to the fair pavillion Saturday for the big auction doings. More great cars, more great neon.

As the designated hour, Eddie and his mechanic Ken cranked the Tobacco King's 427 to life, eased it out of its display area and back through to the auction staging lanes. Even among the jaded crowd of muscle car pros, jaws were dropping like anvils.

As the line of cars moved forward into the building, Eddie says: "can you do me a favor? I'm sort of conflicted about selling it, and don't want to be in the car during the bidding."

Hokay, says I, trying to control my bladder. I slide in the seat carefully, turn the key, and the side oiler  blap blaps to life. I stomp my right boot down on the brake, careful not to hit the rocket button with my knee (the fuel tank is empty but I ain't taking chances) and pull it down into drive.

30 yards later I'm on the red carpet and the bidding starts: $200,000. $300,000. $325,000. $350,000. $360,000. $375,000. Gavel bangs. Roll 'er off.

Driving it away, I struggled mightily with the urge to peel out of the building and head down 38th Street. While I was conconcting my getaway plan, Eddie sticks his head in the car. "Hey man, look who's here!"

I glance sideways, and it's "H.W."

H.W. is a former Turbonique engineer and machinist, a current mad-genius-farmer, and a key source for much of my research on the Turbonique story. This is the first time I've met him face-to-face; Eddie and he have just met for the first time despite living in the same area of North Carolina. Cooler still, HW was one of the small team that built the Tobacco King in Florida back in 1966, and this is the first time he has seen the car in over 40 years. He's brought along some spare impeller parts for the rocket motor. And, maybe coolest of all, he's driven all the way here in his crazy, crude-oil powered, air-cooled diesel 1970 Ford F-250 pickup. After parking the Tobacco King back in its display space, I go out to the parking lot for a gander.

Forget bio-diesel and recycled fryer fat, HW's pickemup actually runs on from-the-well crude oil  (tho it's happy to burn sunflower or other vegetable oil as well). Power is from an experimental air-cooled diesel that he obtained from GM in the early 70s, with modified injectors of his own design. It is to economy what the Tobacco King is to power; HW criss crosses the country in the truck, and whenever he needs fuel simply stops at an oil well, and, with the permission of the well owner, adds a few gallons of crude to the big 330 gallon tank in the bed. It's an astonishingly cheap way to go; HW once made a NC-to-California round trip spending $3.50(!) Yesterday he returned to North Carolina with the same $1.66 in his pocket he left with Saturday. After 500,000 miles on the engine, no major mechanical problems.

After the truck tour, HW and I got back together with Eddie for final goodbyes. Long (happy) story short, the Tobacco King is going back home to North Carolina, and Eddie still owns it. With luck I'll be going there before long to see it again. The legend of Turbonique continues!

More Pictures Here

Cross-posted at Iowahawk

Grand National Roadster Show: Holy Crap!

Austrian physicist Wolfgang Pauli was once asked for a second opinion on a paper written by a less-than-stellar student. Pauli took one look at the paper, and replied wearily, "It is not even wrong."

After seeing this... whatever it is... on display at the Roadster Show, I think I know just how Herr Pauli felt.

I have no doubt that this truck is well-constructed. Certainly whoever is responsible shows a high degree of skill in the disciplines related to building a custom car and/or hot rod. That said, never before have so many contradictory and just plain bad ideas been combined in one vehicle.

This is the classic example of what goes wrong when you do not have a clear vision of the final product before you begin.

Is it a "rat rod"? A lowrider? A bed-hopping minitruck? What?

To paraphrase another Austrian, Jeffery Jones' Emperor Joseph II, from the 1984 film Amadeus, this truck was composed with "Too many notes."

Of course, in the film, the Emperor's opinion was ultimately shown to be a foolish one. Mozart is now considered one of the greatest composers of all time, and the Emperor Joseph II merely another pale fop in a long line of hemophiliac cousin-fucking European royalty. So perhaps I too will be shown up as a buffoon when this... whatever it is... is one day heralded as the zenith of the 21st-century coachbuilder's art.

I won't be losing any sleep worrying about it, though.

Reposted from here, in honor of the upcoming 2008 Grand National Roadster Show.