(2007, updated 2026) As a boy in the pre-internet early sixties, I became obsessed with unveiling the secrets of that inexplicably alluring object of male interest. I had a general notion of what transpired: the rhythmic in and out motions, the frenzy of moving members, the rapid inhalations, the (hopefully) synchronized explosions, and in their wake, the murmur of exhalations. Yes, life’s most intimate mysteries sang their siren song, and I was powerless to resist.
I finally found the willing partner/victim for my exploration. And so, one fateful summer afternoon in a dark corner of the family garage, well out of sight of adults, I furtively removed the outer coverings. In detaching the final gate-keeper of the mystery, I met unexpected resistance. My clumsiness and inexperience resulted in unnecessary pain. Blood flowed. The rite of passage had already exacted a price. Other sacrifices lay ahead. But for the moment, I savored the sweetness of success.
Crouching down, I gazed lovingly into the oily, shiny bore of the 3hp Briggs and Stratton lawnmower engine, which had yielded its secrets so reluctantly. Oblivious to my bloodied knuckles, I spun the flywheel endlessly, watching the dance of the now exposed enginealia. The abstractions of the Otto cycle were at last manifestly concrete.
The air of fitful excitement during the disassembly process eventually gave way to the somber reality of having to reverse my experiment. In my excitement, I’d quite forgotten the details of the teardown. Despite leaving a pile of surplus parts on the floor, I finally managed to get the mower running– minus the linkage from the governor to the carburetor.
I had to improvise an inelegant solution: a piece of twine tied from the spring-loaded throttle plate to the handlebar. Once this “fix” had been achieved, the mower required endless manual rev blipping, not unlike an attention-starved motorcyclist’s mount at a red light. My father and older brother conveniently refused to touch the nervous-tic afflicted machine ever again; I’d created an entirely unwelcome lawn mowing monopoly.
My mechanical shortcomings were at least partially due to a lack of mentoring. My father certainly couldn’t provide any guidance; a can opener taxed his practical abilities. So I sought out other males as surrogates. I found them in the house across the street, where the two teenaged-or-so resident sons had contracted a bad case of hot rod fever.
Their project was a sickly green 1952 Ford business coupe. It was a fundamentally curious beast; its body style traded off rear seat room for the kind of extended trunk only a Mafia hit-man could fully exploit. I hadn’t chosen well. These boys also suffered from DDFS (Disinterested and Distant Father Syndrome). For all the hot summer days and long summer nights spent in advanced auto-yoga positions under and within the ailing coupe, their results were no more distinguished than mine.
Occasionally, having brought the old Ford to a semblance of life, we would all pile in. Progress was measured by how many blocks could be terrorized by the flatulent flathead until it expired in a cloud of steam or smoke or some other violent and unnatural event. While the boys failed to teach me the rudiments of automotive technology, they certainly stimulated my desire to master idiomatic English.
For example, I was intrigued by their insistence on prefixing every noun with the word fucken. In Tirolean dialect, the word means swine. I was familiar with the practice of combining words to create vulgarity (as in schweinehund). But the boys’ masterful and ubiquitous combinations– frequently aimed at reluctant pieces of metal– left me breathless in admiration.
One day, after they’d pretty much given up on the old Ford, I heard the strangely familiar belabored bleating of an old engine. Running outside, I was stunned to discover a clapped-out Lloyd Alexander sans muffler, stuffed with the sheepishly grinning wanna-be hot rodders.
I’d never forgotten the 600cc 26hp 2cyl Lloyd mini-car my godfather drove back in Austria. Seeing these Iowa beef-fed football players spilling out the windows and sunroof of the baby-blue Lloyd was as much of a car-out-of-cultural-context experience as my first glimpse of the ’59 Caddy back in Innsbruck.
The tortured Lloyd held up to their endless full-throttle joy-riding abuse for most of that summer. In the quiet hot nights while futilely trying to go to sleep, I could hear their un-muffled comings and goings seemingly half way across town, like a pesky, buzzing fly endlessly exploring the house room by room. But one late summer day eerie quiet resumed, and I knew the fly had expired.
The Lloyd had been ditched somewhere near Burlington, an hour away. Some ten years later, driving down Hwy. 34 outside of Burlington, I encountered the unmistakable and immortal Lloyd again. It had been hoisted on top of a roof of a wrecking yard. And thanks to Google Street View, I can confirm it’s still there, on what is now an antique mall.
Paul, the first two paragraphs of this chapter are great satire. Enjoyable and impressive. Keep up the good work.
Totally agree, and Paul- you just keep getting better. I’m not brown nosing, I am the type of man who is not shy to express his feelings, and that’s that.
I desperately want a copy of that, as I collect junk from that period. Off to Amazon! Especially that it’s from the YMCA, pre-Village People, young man.
“Keep getting better” Thanks, but that was written in 2007. I spent quite a bit more time on each article I wrote back then; now I’m just a burned out hack/blogger. 🙁
I knew it was from 07, and don’t burn out on some of us-ok? 🙂
Yes Great satire. Keep up the good work!
I trust you used a new head gasket on the B+S, and torqued-up the head bolts in the correct order…..
In a manner that Robert Pirsig would approve of.
My goodness, at first and second glance I thought Jack Baruth had stolen your identity! I only realized it really was you when I dared to hit the jump! Whew! Back when I had my first car, a 1952 Chevy, my friend and I had to change the side cover gasket on the babbitt-beater 216. Of course we had to yank the distributor, but no one told us we had to mark where #1 wire pointed in relation to the engine. We consulted my A.L. Dyke book, but didn’t quite understand what TDC, “Top Dead-Center” meant, so a call to our family’s mechanic one evening helped us to get things moving again. We learned a lot on that evening in 1968! I still have what’s left of that A.L. Dyke book, too. Plus a 1947 Chevy truck shop manual acquired later.
Great style, beautifully written !
But unfortunately I can’t make chocolate from it.
I think the ford in the picture may be a 53 as the grill has the airplane propeller that extends the full width of the car and wraps back a little. The pictures I find show the 52 grill with a split bar with turn signal or parking lights at the ends. Of course it looks like the grills are interchangeable.
I can relate to this story, my father, to this day, has a “limited knowledge” of the workings of a modern car. In the late 1960s he still thought the emergency brake on his car worked by clamping the drive shaft. An engine with 2 carbs was exotic (my TR3). And what was the big deal about overhead cams in modern engines?
So I can’t even contemplate rebuilding a carb or flushing the brake system on my car, but thanks to good manuals and guys at Navy hobby shop garages who let me watch and ask (dumb) questions….I have done an ignition tune-up on a car with points-type ignition, changed an exhaust manifold, replaced the brake pads on my 280Z, and adjusted the valves on a couple of OHC engines. Yet my lawn mower is in a sorry state at this writing.
Great intro! I almost thought I was on the wrong forum. Whew! How we got started in the whole car thing. For most of us it goes way back. I was born in ’54 grew up during the 60’s. The golden years of Detroit. If you weren’t there you can’t imagine what the excitement and anticipation was like around “new model year time”. It was like the realease of the new I phone, except that almost everyone cared. We were bluecollar. My Dad was a very hands on guy. He had an intuitive grasp of how things worked and he was auto didactic ( self taught, sorry love the term), learned how to fix cars, appliances, radios and tvs. When I was in maybe first grade my Dad took me to see a Model T on a used car lot. Can you imagine that? I sat in that car and begged my Dad to buy it, mostly for me. Of course he didn’t. As he learned more about mechanics he quit buying new cars and started buying used cars to save money since they were no longer a mystery to him. We would prowl the numerous car lots on E14th. St. in Oakland. What a great experience that was. While my Dad checked out the newer cars in the front row I would slip away to the back row where the real gems were. 55 through 59 Cadillacs,Lincoln Premiers, big Chryslers and even a Packard or two. These cars were amazing. They were only around ten years old. Sometimes I found one that was unlocked and I slipped inside awed by the great chrome wheel and dashboard and I would imagine flying down the highway in one of these magnificent beasts. My Dad thought that I was crazy but he would humor me and stop at lots where I saw something interesting. He even bought a ’63 Lincoln partly because he knew that I would like. I helped him do an over haul on that one. In his old age my Dad still worked on his cars and trucks and I’m sure that he still thought I was kind of crazy for buying all the old Cads and Rivieras. But there was a small smile on his face and a gleam in his eye when I would showed him my latest acquisition. A little vicarious enjoyment.
How did you even get that 700+ lb V8 out of there?
Back in the days when cars needed points and plugs with gapping and timing all the time, a sort of introduction to automotive mechanical work for a lot of us. Now (not complaining since they start and run perfectly, need little maintenance, use half the fuel and pollute 1000x less) I don’t touch anything past refilling the windshield washer fluid. I may bother to find the dipstick sometime.
I also don’t have a garage or driveway…..
Pigdog. Now THAT’s an epithet.
Dang Paul…
You had me at the first two paragraphs, just before the 180-degree turn from sex to cars! When I was a teenager, my situation was just the opposite. Even as a minor, my mechanical prowess was well-known throughout my family, my neighborhood, and even my high school. My skills with the girls, not so much. Not at all, actually.
On the other hand, my dad is a superb gardener and landscaper, but just changing a faucet washer taxes his mechanical abilities, and to this day he can’t operate a cell phone.
As a child I was fascinated by mechanical things and fortunate to have a father with some knowledge of engine repair I watched him disembowel and reassemble a recalcitrant Iron horse mower engine many times, my knowledge just moved on from there his had no need to as he bought new cars frequently because his position as company secretary of a GM dealership allowed him to, I bought old bombs to do up because its what I could get and I had access to tools and some other older guys that had knowledge to spare and pass on, neighbour across the street was the local Hillman dealer, I later worked overhauling steam turbines the knowledge bank just kept growing from a start of mere interest.
There is an Antique Mall on 1644 W Washington Street, Mt. Pleasant, IA. It has an Alexander on top of the roof.
https://www.google.com/maps/@40.966893,-91.572733,3a,75y,36.61h,90t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1skPvhmOulJEjqzk8AbTZy2w!2e0
That might be it. I googled once before, and couldn’t find that junkyard. Either this is it, converted to an antique mall, or they moved it down the highway. I’d say the odds are good that it’s the same one.
you could give them a call:
http://www.antiquemalls.com/stores/12094.aspx
How many Lloyd Alexanders could there possibly be in Iowa, aside from those in the phone book?
Iowa junk yards have a thing with German micro cars. There is a yard on 1602 Main Street, Marshalltown, Ia with a NSU Prinz 4 on a pedestal.
https://www.google.com/maps/@42.04923,-92.886726,3a,75y,306.71h,79.73t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sbx53UlUlp-NdXZVRFlDPTg!2e0
It’s still there in 2021.
Check Google Maps street view.
By the way if it was displayed in its homeland you couldn’t see it – street view not permitted there, which is really annoying. Austria allows it though.
Pretty cool .
In the 1960’s and 1970’s American Austin Bantams were worthless and often used like this on junkyard signs .
I remember several dotted around So. Cal. .
-Nate
Well written Paul ;
I too began by taking apart & re assembling a pre war Briggs & Stratton cast iron lawn mower engine , in time I actually made it run .
-Nate
This is fucken genius! I know I read it before, but all I remembered was the part about the Lloyd… somehow “blood flowed” and “the abstractions of the Otto cycle were at last manifestly concrete!” failed to stick in my mind, but I’m sure they will now.
I skipped over the lawnmower latency phase and dove right into automobile engines, ass-backwards of course. There was one time where me and a friend pulled a Sears mower out of the trash thinking we could somehow “attach” its engine to some pieces of wood and that would create a go-kart, but it ended with his dad yelling at us for dragging home garbage. I was always of the mindset that technical knowledge was something you could only acquire through trial and error, and that just like in Back to The Future, falling off a toilet seat and attaching some random circuit boards to a DeLorean was all it would take to create a time machine (for real). All the adults in the world were just lazy and didn’t want to get their hands dirty, like me. They were holding back science and all other manner of totally radical shit with their oppressive physical laws and methodology. That was my mindset when I was a kid, so it took a whole lot of feeling things out and screwing up before I submitted to doing things “the right way” when it came to cars.
A Lloyd Alexander?? Wonder when there were Lloyd dealers in America.
Sean, a friend of mine and I did almost the same thing. And we learned the hard way you don’t borrow another mans’ tools (his Dad) without prior agreement. Or the fact that a real man never borrows tools (later.) There were no excuses for what we did, but geez- no one sat us down and talked to either us of such matters and there were no books or magazines covering that topic. But like with women, maybe there’s wisdom to learning your own lessons and going wrong on your own without prior instruction that would be ignored anyways.
Lloyd Alexander, it sounds like an old man type cocktail or character from Revenge of the Nerds. Those would have been my guesses.
The first engine I worked on was a B&S in autoshop. We had to identify all the parts and get it back together and rotating. It didn’t run, we should of checked before we took it apart, I don’t think it ever ran. He was a tough grader so we only got a C. He use to berate us for calling engines, motors. I took metal shop the next semester.
Technically , ‘ Motors ‘ are tethered like in Ag Pumps , APU’s etc.
I got yelled at as a young ‘un for the same thing .
My buddy took a Marine Diesel Class near L.A. Harbor , they gave him an old & dead Detroit Diesel and he made it run , insisted the Teacher give him a good crank (it was bent) etc. , the whole class was impressed , he wanted to be a Diesel mechanic in the worst way but in the end wasn’t a very good Mechanic after all , now he drives ‘ Honey Wagons ‘ for the Movie Biz and makes at least 2 X what I do so who’s smarter ? .
-Nate
My first “experience” was also with a Briggs & Stratton, but it was only after I made it expire from rapidly revving it up and down too many times! When I dissected it I found I had broken the connecting rod in two!
It is better to burn out, then to fade away. This applies to my first power lawn mower experience, the family bought a house that came with an old 2 stroke rotary lawnmower that had a rope pull start you wound up by hand. I discovered it would start in either direction depending on how you wound up the cord. For a while. Then it wouldn’t start but was a lot easier to spin over with the rope. It was only later I learned about mixing oil with gasoline. Later I had an old 2 stroke Suzuki dual range transmission dirt bike and discovered a VW Beetle tail pipe makes a great spark arrestor/silencer. It also makes the engine seize after a few miles.
A Jacobson maybe ? .
Those were terrific , study and well boilt .
During the Korean Way they built tiny little 400 cycle lighting plants for the Army using that same two smoker lawnmower engine , I think I still have one stashed away .
-Nate
I enjoyed this article! I have a Lloyd, and I’d have to say that one on the sign post is probably in better shape. Mine is a wagon with sun roof.
I knew the theory of engines, but never actually got to work on them until after I married. We had no tools. Dad had been a swaggie during the Depression, and was obsessed with the idea that his (only) son was going to be a professional man and had to take care of his hands – never understood the hands bit. My father-in-law was just the opposite; nothing to be ashamed of in any honest work. Dad never saw this photo…. 🙂
Adjusting the valves on a Ford 2.0, by turning the adjustable rocker arm pedestal. Tightening the lock nut tended to extend the pedestal upward, so you needed to leave a little extra gap in your initial setting.
In the US the 2.0 came in the Pinto/Bobcat and Capri, but neither one used a compound hood hinge so I can’t ID the car.
Mark 3 Cortina. 🙂 Handy design allowed the hood to open back beyond vertical.
My father had a huge, self propelled reel lawn mower, powered by a Briggs and Stratton 4 stroke engine. One day I decided to take the head off, and was astonished to find that it had side valves! I had no idea until this moment that this was the case, having had no experience with cars with this set up. I was born in 1955, and virtually all cars in Australia by this stage had OHV. I screwed the head back on and fortunately the engine started up just fine. Grown up, I purchased a new mower for myself in 1986, powered by the same type of engine, and I still own and use it some 35 years later.
My First Time
I waited breathlessly for this moment ever since I’d laid eyes on her. Blue. And yellow. And she liked to be tied up. I undid the fasteners to her most important part, right above where her legs were. There was a little wetness, but not too much. I grabbed my tool and…
…unscrewed the glow plug to her Cox .049 engine and spun the prop to watch that piston go up and down, nitromethane fuel bubbling as it passed the valve slot leading to the gas tank. Further exploration meant wrapping a cloth around the cylinder and twisting with some pliers, revealing a piston and crankshaft and the inner workings of the engine block. I knew not to explore any further, as that would hinder future enjoyment of her charms. I understood now the intricacies of the internal engine 2 stroke cycle. Putting everything back as it naturally went, I finished by giving her a present of some new rubber bands (nitro degrades them) to secure the wings and landing gear and clean control lines. We spent a pleasant afternoon together, me turning the throttle up more and more as I got used to her ways stepping back to keep the lines taut, me peeking behind now and then to be sure I wasn’t moving towards an onbstacle.
I’ve gotten more joy out of that flying toy than some cars I’ve owned.
Fun juxtaposition! I remember seeing that Lloyd on the Antique building when our daughter lived in Iowa City 2005-2010 before moving to Denver. Didn’t know what that small car was, only that I’d never seen one like it before… or since, still haven’t! Haven’t done the drive out to Denver (by the I-80 route) since then so wonder if it’s still there.
My Dad was the opposite, a mechanical engineering Tufts grad who was chief engineer and maintained the huge diesel on a Kaiser built escort carrier for 3 years in the South Pacific in WWII. But that experience was enough for him and he never touched an engine after that. The car was an appliance that someone else took care of, so no education on the subject of cars was imparted, it was up to me. My interest in automotive technology was totally self-acquired, and he barely tolerated having a son with such interests. Sports were his thing but not mine, so unfortunately from the age of 10 or so we had very little in common. Luckily Mom was more understanding and open minded.
Great stuff, I must have missed this one earlier. Brought back some memories:
The first engine I disassembled was a Clinton lawn mower engine. I used only a hammer and it never went back together, of course. I was disappointed, and my mother was furious about the puddle of oil on the patio.
Speaking of my mother, she had mastered idiomatic english as well. My father told her this was inappropriate in front of us young kids and she should say “My, how unfortunate”. Her part time job during WW2 was to shout “schweinehund” at passing German soldiers, and she was able to deliver the words “My, how unfortunate” just as forcefully as a string of curses.
lol…a classic indeed. 🙂
This is a 1957 Lloyd 600. Similar to the Alexander but with three speeds instead of four. The Alexander also had a trunk lid.
Great setup, I am also mostly self taught as a mechanic, although my son learned from me, which may have inspired his college choice of mechanical engineering. My father liked tools but didn’t use them much, I’m sure if it was aptitude or inclination since he was a would be English professor turned lawyer.
As for Lloyd cars, Central Oregon actually has a few. A bright yellow one used to sit in front of the Ski Inn in Sisters and there was a farm near Powell Butte that had several out back with at least one runner.
Were these teen boys occupants of the house with the pair of 1960 Bonnevilles owned by their parents?
What a brilliant piece of writing – and with a Lloyd as a guest star.
Oh, and I think the aforementioned .049 Cox was probably louder than the Lloyd Zweitakter – I had one on a dune buggy.
I was sadly never as competent at mech. eng. as my father – I was impressed by his ability to drill out a stud freehand whereas I am more ‘Push the Tempo’ and it’s probably cheaper to buy a new component rather than more drill bits and extractors….