Where, baby, I don't care
As long as you take me there
Somewhere to clear my mind
The days are getting shorter and the first snow is right around the corner. At least in our area. So, there's nothing better than grabbing a cold one and figuring out if we shouldn't rather be down in the shop working on our projects for next summer. Here's a little inspiration for those among you who like it a little lower.
Seeing the Matranga Mercury clone pulling into the fairgrounds in the early morning was the perfect start to a great weekend in Santa Maria. Another highlight was the chopped 1949 Buick Sedanette "Art Deco" below, built by Justin Hills from Australia.
I spotted both of these Ford coupes at the Cruisin' Nationals 2011, Santa Maria California. They are the start to a series of previously unreleased photos I took during the warmer days of twenty-eleven. RIP summer.
Leaguered in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouettes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And, halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,
Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,
That, balked, yet stands at bay.
Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day
In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,
A wan Valkyrie whose wide pinions shine
Across the ensanguined ruins of the fray,
And in her hand swings high o'erhead,
Above the waste of war,
The silver torch-light of the evening star
Wherewith to search the faces of the dead.
Lagooned in gold,
Seem not those jetty promontories rather
The outposts of some ancient land forlorn,
Uncomforted of morn, Where old oblivions gather,
The melancholy unconsoling fold
Of all things that go utterly to death
And mix no more, no more
With life's perpetually awakening breath?
Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,
Over such sailless seas,
To walk with hope's slain importunities
In miserable marriage? Nay, shall not
All things be there forgot,
Save the sea's golden barrier and the black
Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,
Shall I not wander there, a shadow's shade,
A spectre self-destroyed,
So purged of all remembrance and sucked back
Into the primal void,
That should we on that shore phantasmal meet
I should not know the coming of your feet?
Dirt track fever keeps spreading all over Europe. The UK's Hot Rod Hayride may have started the madness, but there are now several smaller events in Germany, Sweden and Spain keeping the spirit alive and kicking. Swiss hot rod builder Marcel Moser blew up some dust as well. Together with fellow ACES and Shoplifters members, he raced an old dirt track approved 1933 Ford coupe during the last two years. But since car sharing is the second best solution to car owning, Marcel decided he wanted to possess a race car of his own.
At the 2011 Hershey swap meet, he came across this old sprint car.
It was built on a narrowed 1937 frame with a model A rear end and a 1932 Ford front beam. The engine was a four banger, the body was homebuilt.
After the car had arrived in Switzerland, Marcel replaced the tired engine with the twin ignition flathead he had built for the 1933 coupe.
Metal man Raphael Schaub rebuilt the track nose and fabricated a higher cowl in order to line up perfectly with the grille shell.
Next on the list are a new hood and a belly pan.
The french flathead is a tight fit between the frame rails.
A nice pre-war style A roadster bears company with the sprint car.