It pays to be prepared. Just as the first arctic blast of the season steamrolled into Chicago last weekend, I was ready with my fail-safe winter survival kit: a pocket full of sheckels, party invitations, and air tickets to Los Angeles. A brief recap of a memorable 48 hours:
Saturday AM: still groggy from the previous night's flight, headed to Monrovia for breakfast with my pal & diesel guru Gale Banks. I learn that Gale is in the midst of a couple of big projects involving military applications of his hot rodding know-how. Horsepower for the Troops! Over pancakes we discuss another critical national defense project - my 1959 El Camino. If all goes to plan, Mr. Banks and I will be teaming up to coax that sucker back to life.
Gale has stuff to do at the shop, and I've got reservations a few miles away at the annual Mooneyes Xmas Party Car Show and Drag Races at Irwindale Speedway. Now this is what I call a holiday party:
Tommy Ivo's FED, check. The ChiZler, check. Wild Willy Borsch's Winged Express, check. Plus 1000+ of SoCal's finests rods & customs, music, and purty gals. More pictures here. During my rounds, I run into a bunch of my no-goodnik hot rod buddies like Chris Casny, Alex Gambino, Church Magazine proprietor Coby Gewertz, and Mad Fabricator Piero DeLuca, who now works for customizing legend George Barris. Sweating in the record high 85 degree temps, I feel a slight twinge of sympathy for my suffering comrades back in the blizzard-wracked Midwest. But I must not let it distract me from my hedonistic duties, and thus I press on.
Next stop: the Heath store on Beverly Boulevard in west LA, for the opening of House Heath Holiday.
Swanky music, incidentally, performed the Mattson 2. At Heath I meet old pal and artworld juggernaut Coop and his lovely ladyfriend Stephanie, who introduce me to Rich Roat and the fellas from House Industries who have cooked up this tasty design extravaganza. We get a sneak preview from House's Adam Cruz of the 5-window Deuce coupe he is building -- and has completely rendered down to the lugnut as a 3-D CAD file. Shweeet. Brief greeting with Jimmy Kimmel, who turns out much skinnier in person than on TV.
Afterwards, a crosstown traffic battle, up the Glendale Freeway to Altadena for a house party at Bobby Green's mountain retreat, nestled just this side of the Angeles National Forest. You may remember Bobby from my Bonneville Salt Flats adventure, where he set a V4/BGL world speed record in his legendary Old Crow bellytank lakester. Since then he's broken his own record three times, and moved into an incredible late-40's modernist rustic rambler ranch in the upper foothills of the San Gabriels. As I told Bobby's lovely gal pal Carol, it's like Yogi Bear won the lottery.
The party is part housewarming / part early birthday bash for Bobby, and as a professional Los Angeles saloonkeeper he has insured there is no dearth of libations. Nor BBQ. Nor friends like Coop, Banks, Mr. Jalopy, and Lucky Burton. Nor bluegrass music, performed here by American Primitive:
Sunday AM: Unlike my favorite soul-murdering namesake college football team, I do know how to make it to the Rose Bowl. So I decide to putter out to Pasadena for the monthly Rose Bowl flea market. Meh. A huge crowd, but not much to write home about. But I do get a good luck $2 bill in change and a chance to go inside the empty edifice to silently sulk about the Hawkeye football team's collapse.
Mourning complete, I reconvene with Bobby, Carol, and a few other friends at the venerable Roscoe's House of Chicken & Waffles in Pasadena. Everyone is delighted by the delicious soulfood breakfast, and the fact that nobody remembers anything incriminating from the party last night.
Next stop: downtown LA, where I will accompany Coop and Stephanie to the Charles Phoenix Retro Holiday Slide Show. A Southern California institution, Mr. Phoenix might be described as a mashup of James Lileks, Martha Stewart and John Waters; his show is a narrated journey into the hysterical dark heart of family Kodak slides from 1945-75. An absolute laff riot, and highly recommended. Mr. Phoenix is also a whiz in the kitchen, as witnessed by his amazing holiday desert creation, the Cherpumple:
Bon Appetit! After the show, Coop & Stephanie stop for a photo op in front of the lobby Christmas tree, patriotically flocked in red white & blue by Mr. Phoenix himself. What a flocker!
Next stop: across town to the digs of hostess-with-the-mostest Ruth Waytz, who has conjured up a delicious supper of Coq au Vin. C'est magnifique! Joining us are Armed Liberal Marc Danziger, his lovely wife Grace and wisecracking son Isaac. After clearing dishes, all of us head west to Barney's Beanery in Santa Monica for what will be the last fun stop of my weekend: beers with Andrew Breitbart and Adam Baldwin, star of NBC-TV's "Chuck." Imagine my delight to see the bar festooned with Iowa Hawkeye pennants.
Most of our table - myself, Ruth, Grace, Breitbart and Baldwin - shared some kind of Chicago connection, so we were tickled pink to eventually be joined by young Joel Pollak and his lovely wife Julia. You may recall Joel from his valiant congressional campaign against Chicago commie dingbat Jan Schakowsky in the 2010 midterms. He is renowned for his intellect, but with all respect I can tell you Julia is the real brain of the Pollak household.
Topics of conversation? That's wingnut top secret. This ain't no Wikileaks!
See you again in February, LA!
