The seasons are changing. Not sure how many more times I get to take this shot. I think bikini season is gone too :-(
Update: This picture showed the fall colors better then I thought it would. Since February I’ve posted seven of these shots from Big Creek Lake. I hope I can get at least one more before the snow flies and the lake is once again covered in ice and snow.
fasthair
Not having been able to take a vacation of any kind for a couple of years now I decided that since this one job didn’t show up for the work that was planned that I was going to make a long four day weekend out of the Labor day weekend. For years I’ve heard of the Davenport Labor day weekend antique swap meet and races. Hell I even tried to go last but as some of you might remember I made a wrong turn and didn’t make it. Read that as I was an idiot and didn’t pay attention to where I was going.
Not this year though. I not only made it to this event and had just a bang up time at it. The weather was perfect for the whole event to boot. So nice in fact that I just rolled the sleeping bag out next to Whiskey for the night with no need for the tent. The swap meet was large with some real gems hidden here and there with some real junk thrown in for good measure. There was even an real nice" “ride in” bike show in one of the buildings but I’m sure most if not all made it there in a trailer. Which is in no way a slam on them because some of these restored bikes were very nice in deed and the ones in original condition still showed all of their time worn marks of pride. All in all a bunch of great looking bikes from a time most of us have never seen.
My only issue was my damn digital camera. Oh I was prepared for taking pictures. I had fresh set of charged batteries, a spare set of charged batteries and even a freshly formatted memory card. So what went wrong? The dang memory card took a dump and the camera was unable to format the card no matter what I tried. Heaven only knows why but it worked at home before I hit the road. Got to love the digital adventures… not. So for that reason all of the photos are once again from the phone that despite not having a flash took some pretty good photos in the night time lighting for being just a phone cam.
Back to the races though. For me the real fun was watching the antique motorcycle dirt track races. What a hoot to watch these men, and one lady, race these old machines around this half mile dirt track. Forget about the riders taking it easy on these bikes, some being well over fifty years old and older. They drove them just as hard as I’m sure they once raced back all those years ago. The real highlight for me and I’m sure others was the old board track racers. Most of these bike were a hundred years old or older. These bad boys of yester year were still very fast. About ten bikes were in this class and to watch them roll off the banking of the short inner track for the rolling start was very cool in deed. Since these real life board track racers have no clutch, or brakes for that matter, it require that they make flying starts. Watching these riders handle these bikes with nothing more then springs on the seats for suspension and handle bars hung down low with skinny little tires was quite the thrill. As they came to the green flag for the rolling start it was like being transformed back to the time these were a main stay of any county fair grounds of the times. Hearing the sound of these engines with their short 10” long pipes, watching the riders three and four wide elbow to elbow joust for the front spot as they head for the first corner to disappear from sight heading for the back straight. Then as they come out of turn four with the rider all but laying on the gas tank to squeeze ever last bit of speed of their machines they fly by again dropping their left foot to the ground shooting off sparks from the steel shoes as the flames belch out of the pipes when the riders close the throttles for the corner. The crowd in the full grandstand roar with approval with each lap. After a few laps one of the old engine expires in grand fashion in the middle of the front straight as it blows the cylinder completely off the engine causing the real wheel to lock up as the rider slides it skillfully to the side of the track. Just then the old blue Harley with the white tires who tried but failed to make the start of the races comes cruising off the banking of the short track to join the race. Again the crowd roars it’s approval as the rider heads off in to turn one. I’m sure for most of these racers it’s not so much about winning as it is just to be there racing. To enjoy a thrill that can’t be had in any other way or time. Maybe getting to keep the checkered flag and make the victory lap with it held high to cheering crowd proved that they were the best this evening was what is all about for some. But as I talked to the rider who hauled all the way from Los Angeles put it best when he said “damn it that was so much fun!” I’ve got to bet that is what it is all about, the fun. Just as when I helped Frog race his nitro Harley it was all about the fun, winning was just a plus. And this was fun for all, riders and spectators a like. The cheap fifteen dollar admission fee was worth every penny. Even the crappy race steaks (hot dogs) couldn’t kill the great time I had at these old timer races.
The rest of the weekends races where fun but nothing compared to the fun and races I had this evening. Enjoy the slide show, and Dave there is even a 1937 Crocker in there for you. Yes there was one at the bike show and I thought of you instantly. Got to admit it was the first time I’ve even seen one, pretty cool. Sorry the photo isn’t any better for you.
I’ve been lacking at getting to everyone's blog lately so I’ll work on making thee rounds and catch up with what all of you have been doing.
fasthair
Thank you for using Picture and Video Messaging by U.S. Cellular. See www.uscellular.com for info.
Thank you for using Picture and Video Messaging by U.S. Cellular. See www.uscellular.com for info.
Thank you for using Picture and Video Messaging by U.S. Cellular. See www.uscellular.com for info.
In the past couple of weeks I’ve watched as two of my customers with high miles and years of service work leave the shop for the last time. While one of them really kind of leaves a hole in my heart it was time and I actually made the call on both of them.
I’m going to start with the one that I am probably most proud of, Mrs. Clay’s 1984 300SD Turbo Diesel. I’m not really sure when I started to work on her car but I know I have been working on it for over twenty years. Phil and I opened PT Service in February of 1987 and it wasn’t too much longer after that this very nice (dare I say old?) lady showed up wanting to get some work done to her car. 
Over the years Mrs. Clay became one of my most loyal and valued customers. There were times when she would winch at the cost of a repair but always fixed the car because she knew it was worth the investment from a reliability point of view. She loved this car, it was one of the last things her late husband bought her before he passed away. The one owner 300SD had around 75,000 miles at the time they bought it and over the years she drove this car everywhere and I mean everywhere. Mrs. Clay was never one to fly somewhere when she could drive. There was a time when she had so many speeding tickets she had to take driving school to keep her drivers license.
I really never knew when she would call or where she was at when she did call. As she often does sometimes she just shows up to either ask me questions or to show me something she deemed important. On two of those occasions she stopped by just to show me the odometer on the 300SD. The first land mark mileage she stopped in front of my shop with exactly 400,000 miles showing on the odometer. Again some years later she stopped in to show me 500,000 miles proudly displayed on the odometer.
But likHowever like all cars they really don’t last forever in these parts of the country. Our winters and all the salt they use on the roads slowly eats away at the metal. Even though Mrs. Clay had fixed all of the rust as it popped up and even fixed it from running over Bambi, twice, other things are not as easily fixed. This was the occasion the day she showed and as soon as I seen the car I knew things were bad.
This day was already a bad day for me. First thing that morning a gentleman walked in to my shop “pissed because my car don’t run” as he put it to me. You see I had just spend the last three months putting the motor in his car back together after some other “shop” had “fixed” it. This car had 200,000 miles when it drove in that day wanting me to check the cam timing on it because he didn’t think it ran like it should after this other placed worked on it. I’m not going to go into that long story now but let’s just say I spend sixty five hundred dollars on this car and had it in prefect shape for him and the drive back home to his place in Washington state. When he walked into my shop and said those words my first thought was now what the hell is wrong with this thing. I was never so glad to see a pair of tail lights in my life as I was when this 400E left. It wasn’t until he reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of photos of the car that my heart really sunk. Yes he walked away from this mess of twisted metal.
Now I have Mrs. Clay in the drive and I knew before I even looked in the left front wheel well I knew what I was going to find. The rust had chewed away at the front suspension and broke front anti-roll bar. While that may not have been that big of a deal on other cars this was a major deal on this Mercedes. Without going into major how-to’s and why-for’s I’ll just say this part helps locate the front wheel and is a major job to replace. Now completely deflated at the end of a pretty crummy day I had to stop and take stock in what was going to happen. I got Mrs. Clay into a rental for the weekend so I could stop and think about what the next step was. But I knew in my heart that the 704,000 mile 300SD wasn’t going to get repaired this time. I was broken hearted, Mrs. Clay was broken hearted, but I knew it was time. Time to find her a much newer car for which she could start her high mile adventures again. It took some time but I did find her a very nice one owner 2001 E320 (gas this time) in Los Angeles, California. When the seller asked me about getting it shipped back for her I told him there is no way she would even think of not driving this car back. So a few days later after, as she put it, “a very nice train ride” to the west coast she pulled up to the shop to show me her new car.
While we were both sad that the ol’ 300SD was no longer on the road she was delighted with her new car. While I had lost the shop high miler to rust it’s heart will still live on. You see Mrs. Clay sold the 300SD to a nice older gentleman form Sioux Fall South Dakota. He builds custom hot rods for a living and has a 1949 Ford pickup that he is going to put the motor and drive train in. How cool is that? A Mercedes five cylinder turbo diesel in a old Ford pickup.
This is the last time I will see this great ol’ car in this form. It has taught many, many thing over the years. In a small way I will miss seeing it as it rattles up to the door and looking at the odometer to see how many more miles it has rolled up. But a small part of me finds comfort in knowing that it’s heart is still going to be giving life to something else even older. Maybe on of these days I’ll hear the familiar rattle that only a Mercedes OM617 five cylinder turbo diesel has and look up and see this noise coming from a 1949 Ford pickup. One can hope and dream can he?
fasthair
Update: Thought I would post a picture at a different time of day at the lake. After grilling some chicken grillers with corn on the cob the little Road King and Whiskey set out for some ice cream and to catch the sunset. After spending Friday night and Saturday afternoon at the race track with too many people and lots of loud fast race cars this was a the perfect way to end the weekend.
fasthair
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