A Visit To Legendary Turner Auto Wreckers – The 100 Acres Of Cars And Parts Are Amazing, But Jerry Turner, Age 93, Is Even More So

Old timers.

A Ford section.

A Mercury “Montchero”.

Jaguars and other Europeans.

Looking across the irrigation ditch to another vast tract of cars over there. Too much…

This Lincoln had “Do Not Part” written on it.

As did the matching coupe.

An older Lincoln coupe.

No, I didn’t walk the south 40.

I just held up my phone to share a sense of the vastness of the place with you. A golf cart would be just the ticket.

The irrigation ditch is dry these days. That’s the office way off in the distance.

Corvairs.

Chryslers

Mish-mash.

A fine old DeSoto hardtop coupe.

I was spent. It’s just overwhelming. And as I was walking out to the gate, here comes a new arrival.

A Mercedes W126 that looks to have had an engine fire.

There’s a whole other large yard across the street, that seems to have only vintage cars. I didn’t go in. I should have; look like mostly 60s and 70s cars. Next time…

You should go see it for yourselves.

I headed back in, seeing it was about nine now. Among the many pictures on the wall, I noticed this one, signed by the legendary race car driver, Bill Vukovich. From Fresno, Vukovich started out in midgets and quickly worked his way up, winning the Indy 500 in 1953 and 1954. He was killed during the 1955 500 while in the lead, due to a chain reaction crash started by a spin out by Roger Ward. Many consider him to be the greatest American race car driver. I read about him as a kid in the 60s.

 

I asked Jerry about the picture, and he immediately launched into a story about Bill and his two brothers, whom he knew very well. He grabbed the pile of papers from his desk and told me that he had been sent what he considered the most definitive analysis of the crash that killed Vukovich. The pile was tall, and about half way through of sorting through them, keeping some and discarding others, he gave up and just told it to me verbally, as well as some of the early history of the Vukovich brothers.

I was in the thrall of a man who could undoubtedly tell compelling stories all day long; every day, for that matter, as he’s lived a very full life and seems to remember every detail.

But Jerry has work to do, as the phone rings regularly. I took this very short and random video of him doing what he does, although that’s hardly all he does. He has a wonderful phone voice, and from the first time I called him about my transmission, he was extremely courteous and warm. Everyone gets that same treatment, including some tourists who walked in asking if they could tour the yards. Most certainly! But not before he insisted on giving them each a bottle of water from the fridge.

Jerry told me he’s had busloads of 20 Swedes show up, as well as other Europeans. And in the last 20 years, the business has become national and international, with some 50% of parts sold being shipped out.

Here’s Jerry in 1950, when he was 18. Motorcycles were obviously a big part of his life. I wish there had been more time to hear more of his life story.

Lots of pictures on the wall, and above the fridge there was something of a memorial to his son that died quite some years back. I did hear one of the yard workers, Kip, call Jerry “gramps” on the radio, and I saw him briefly in the office, and noticed a certain family resemblance, so presumably the torch will be passed to him when the time comes. But a tremendous amount of knowledge will be lost when that happens.

Jerry had one of his most capable guys take the overdrive off my transmission and mount it to one from the yard with a broken O/D case, due to a broken U-joint.  Jerry inspected the insides carefully and called it good. It was original, which actually makes me more confident, since mine had been “rebuilt” by a transmission shop, but obviously they made a mistake assembling it, as some of the little roller pins from the bearing that failed had fallen out. I had found them in the bottom of my pan when I changed the oil in it two years ago. I posted about that, and a number of commenters told me it was likely just a matter of time before that bearing went bad. It did just that, two years later.

It’s a more involved job than I might have anticipated, and it took a couple of hours. Jerry popped in several times to see how it was coming and to offer advice and help as needed. There was a bit of a hitch near the end, and Jerry took charge at that point. His knowledge on just this one transmission was as if that’s all he ever did, work on old transmissions. Not so. It’s rather mind-boggling, actually.

Jerry is a living legend, and made a vast number of friends over the decades, quite a few of which are no longer alive. It was a privilege to meet Jerry, and when he said “goodbye my friend”, they were words that will resonate with me for some time.

At a time in my life where I sometimes feel like I’m getting too old to take on certain jobs (like changing my transmission) and ponder how to prioritize my time and ponder whether “retirement” has any relevance to my life, meeting Jerry has given me some fresh perspective and put some new spring into my step. I’m 25 years younger than he is. You don’t stop living fully, working and doing things until you do…by choice or necessity. Like Jerry, I’ll take the latter.

We loaded the transmission into the van just before noon. I had anticipated having to stop somewhere on the way home for another night. But I wanted to get home, so I gulped down a quick sandwich and pulled out at exactly 12:00, and hit the road home. 660 miles later, I pulled into our driveway at 9:55 pm. Just under ten hours, average speed 70. Two quick gas stops.

Now to get that transmission back in.

 

 

Pages: 1 2 3