I’d always assumed that someday, I would build a hot rod.
I’d been reading Hot Rod magazine since I was in high school. Not to mention Street Rodder, Rod Action, and Rod and Custom. During freshman year I found an auto-related book entitled, How to Fix Up Old Cars, written by Leroi “Tex” Smith. I knew who Smith was because he was a contributor to Hot Rod magazine. This book had a lot of good advice and lots of tech info presented in a basic and easy-to-understand manner.
I also checked out lots of “how to” repair manuals. These explained how engines, transmissions, and other mechanical systems worked.
Henry Gregor Felsen wrote a series of young people’s novels that concerned the hot rod experience. I first read the novel “Hot Rod” when I was in the fourth grade. Of course, I identified with the book protagonist Bud Crayne!
My life as a young gearhead spanned ten years from the mid-60s through high school and a bit beyond. It lasted until I bought my first car in 1974. So, did I grow up during that era surrounded by cut-down coupes, and roadsters powered by rasty flathead V8s, or ground-scraping Mercs?
No. I never saw an actual hot rod being driven on the street until the late 1980s! I have been interested in cars since I was a little kid. New cars, old cars, stock cars, custom cars, and …hot rods. Yet, the only place that I’d ever seen them was in magazines. I had primarily been interested in learning about the new models as they debuted each year. My interest in motorcycles eventually overtook and supplanted my interest in cars, but it was always there in the back of my mind.
By then, I had owned a lot of old cars over the years, but never made the move to hot rods. Truthfully, I always found old Cadillacs and motorcycles more attractive and interesting. But just like the idea of owning a Big Twin Harley, over time interest in a hot rod waned, and the prices for projects went way, way up. Yet the idea remained dormant until the spark was fanned into a flame.
When I was in my late 40’s I was given a Rhino CD anthology of early Rock and Roll and Rockabilly music as a Father’s Day present. It was housed in a box that resembled an old plastic model kit. Four CDs plus a small paper-bound book. The book had a lot of pictures of early hot rods. Those cars were really basic and pretty rough. Back in the day, most car guys didn’t have the knowledge, experience, and most importantly money, to build a well-finished car. They did have the ingenuity to mix and match used car parts, and they certainly knew how to weld!
That little CD booklet reignited the idea that I could build my own hot rod, and my interest in customs had increased during my ownership of my ’66 Riviera.
So in the mid-90s I found myself listening to Rockabilly music, reading Rockabilly hot rod magazines, and going to vintage Rod shows like Billetproof and the West Coast Kustoms Nationals in Paso Robles. Many of the cars that I would see were customized ’50s models. But there were also Old Skool primitive hot rods. They were derisively labeled as “rat rods.”
By then, there was a growing backlash against the sanitized street rods being built by older and more experienced enthusiasts. These were highly detailed, well-crafted, somewhat homogenized vehicles. The young guys couldn’t afford them, but they could cobble together a bunch of cast-off parts into an old-timey rod. In fact, many of these cars were built from vintage parts that had been discarded by the guys building modern “trick” machines.
Of course, I also wanted to make one of my famous “end runs,”Β to avoid having to pay the current high prices.
While at a local vintage car swap meet, I found a copy of a classified, penny-saver-type newsletter. The logo was intriguing, a crudely drawn sketch of two guys carrying a stretcher with a tired engine on it. The paper was called “The Scrounger!” That sounded promising.
What did I find? There was a hot rod project listed for sale in Madera and the verbal description sounded promising.
A hand-built rectangular steel tube frame with many early Ford components came attached. A Model A beam front axle was mounted “suicide style.” That meant that the axle was located ahead of the front frame crossmember. The rear axle was a banjo differential suspended by a transverse Model A spring held by a kicked-up crossmember. The transmission was an early Ford V8 unit (just an empty case), connected to the rear end by a torque tube, and carried an adaptor plate to bolt up to a small block Chevy engine. Which was also just a core. A radiator sat over the front of the frame. The front brakes were empty, missing the internal components. Likewise the rear axle. The suspension was secured by the necessary radius rods. A steering box with a drag link was connected to the spindles, but there was no steering column.
The body was the front half of a ’22 Dodge touring car, which is similar to a roadster. It was slightly channeled as mounted to the frame. It wasn’t very rusty, but there wasn’t that much body included to be rusty.
Could this mess be assembled into an actual running car?
A car of this type was a very basic, inexpensive build in its time. It was called a Lakes Roadster, the forerunner of the ubiquitous T Bucket, which became popular in the 1960s.
I needed a lot of parts to complete the project, a steering column, a complete brake/ clutch pedal setup, along a master cylinder and brake system. A running engine, a usable transmission, clutch set up, lighting, some floorboards, and an electrical system. Not to mention the interior.
I started seriously going to vintage swap meets to try and source the needed parts. I should mention that many, if not all of these parts were available new from restoration sources, as early Fords are favorites for restoration. Being a cheapskate, I balked at some of the prices being asked by vendors. My first inkling that it wasn’t going to be a bargain project was that the engine/trans adaptor required a specific, one year only Mercury clutch assembly, and it wasn’t cheap.
It also turned out that a welding rig would come in handy. There were lots of mounting brackets and tabs that were needed to locate and secure the various components. I learned how to weld at a night course after high school and I even bought a cheap wire welder at Harbor Freight Tools. (I was always worried about starting a fire in my garage trying to use the welder and that’s why the welder is still sitting in its box).
I went to a few more swap meets at Early Ford Parts in Campbell. That’s where I found a good transmission, some King Bee headlamps, a vintage heater and a Model A grille shell.
Keeping an eye on Craig’s List, I found a running 327 Chevy engine at a good price. Lacking a truck of my own. I used my minivan to haul my engine hoist to pick up the engine and loaded it through the side door. I was careful to lay down protective materials;Β that van was my family car!
I found a steering column from a Datsun truck at a wrecking yard, but I was stumped on how to set up the brake and clutch pedals. This is when knowing how to weld comes in handy. I also realized that the number one tool for a rod builder is a pickup truck! It would be needed to haul the frame to a shop that could fabricate the mounting parts.
So why did I lose interest in the project?
Well, it was more work and expense than I had anticipated. Practical considerations also started to intrude on my vision.Β For one, “How would I lock this thing up, if I ever drove it to work, or to the store, or even in my driveway?” There were no door locks, side windows, or even a top.
Eventually, I decided that the project just wasn’t worth finishing and I put it up for sale. This was one of the rare instances where I actually walked away.
This was obviously something that would require “the right buyer.” My task was to locate this elusive creature.
I advertised in CL for a while with no takers. Then I took it to a Good Guys event in Pleasanton, and that adventure required renting a truck and trailer. That alone resulted in a Boondoggle that my son will never forget, but is too long to include in this account! I spoke with a lot of people, but there wasn’t anyone seriously interested in buying it. I started dropping my asking price lower and lower, with no takers and towed the car home in disappointment. I have tried to sell several cars at Good Guys with equally bad results.
I gave CL another try, and this time found an interested buyer. He was serious. He came with a truck towing an empty trailer. We quickly came to an agreement on price. He was a younger guy who bought it as a Father and Son project, and he was the son! After the sale, I forgot all about it.
A couple of years later I got a phone call from the buyer, who told me that he had completed the car and sent some pictures. It was nice to see it completed, though it still needed a lot of finishing. The car sat very high, which looked very old-fashioned compared to current Rat Rod thinking.
A lot of car projects move along from one owner to the next, each one adding a little bit of value towards the completion. It takes a lot of determination to see a project like this through to completion.
So I never did build a hot rod, and this experience cured me of the notion. However, I remained unfazed and already had another potential hobby car in mind.
Nice to hear a tale where the ending is like a lot of projects, passed on due to time or money issues. But the journey is the thing as you wrote about the time spent with your son. I’ve caught myself thinking about buying some car from my youth as a clunker and fixing it up but then reality intrudes.
That’s great. I read a lot of the same books and magazines (there’s a CC article on that here)
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/blog/bookshelf-classics-car-books-of-youth/
Unlike you I never made the leap to actually building a hot rod. But it’s super cool that the next owners got it on the road. Also anything in the real world you can get your son to help you with is worthwhile. Working on a hot rod with your son hopefully makes it worthwhile for you.
When I was a kid in Iowa City, the neighbors across the street had two sons who were bitten by hot rod fever. I spent untold hours watching them and a friend or two try to get their various hot rods running. When they succeeded in getting one going, it expired in a cloud of steam not far away. It was my immunization for hot rod fever.
When I was a kid it was hard to avoid hot rods if you were interested in cars; Hot Rod magazine was everywhere as were the Henry Gregor Felsen books. But other than looking at the books and magazines, and an occasional visit to the Oakland Roadster Show, the bug never bit me. The guy who bought your car did a nice job. I still remember those Jag rear ends; no Pinto or Mustang II front suspension yet.
I’ll join the chorus in that I never got into hot rods, and I’ve never cared that much about owning a 600-horsepower car to “show off” with. I do, however, appreciate the mechanical knowledge and metalworking skill it takes to build one, so I enjoy reading about them. It looks like you got a little bit of experience without losing your shirt, which is not a bad outcome. The Rivieras look better anyway. π
Same here. The boundless optimism of youth giving way to the wisdom of experience. Most of us have been there. Just looking at the original heap gives me the willies (and not the good Jeep kind, either).
Still, as stated, I enjoy reading of the adventures of those who make the attempt but end up abandoning it, as well as those who see their dream through. I applaud and admire them all.
Not to mention that a ’22 Dodge is a nice change of pace from the typical T-bucket hotrod. FWIW, there’s actually a work of art called ‘Back Seat Dodge ’38’ that was quite scandalous back when it was first shown in 1966.
The next owner did a fine job (completing a good starting effort by you). The car is not self-consciously a βrat rodβ, nor is it all polished and chromed out. It seems to land in that middle ground where the real world lives, and how real old-time hot rods seemed to typically turn out (well before my time, but I am making assumptions here).
Because it is not entirely a Ford Model A/Model T, the car has added interest to me.
This sounds like a saga and I guess it predated your pickup. I used to read the H.A.M.B. and dream of rat rods and traditional rods but lacking time, money, garage space, and a welder my idea for a mini rod built around an Austin 7 remains a dream. On the other hand the guy who built a rumble seat into the bed of his Model A pickup is a hero
I must confess to loving hot rods…the ingenuity and craftsmanship shown by many ameteur builders is impressive and the professionals bring it to amazing+. Look at what Kindig does, or Steve’s in Oregon – Riddler winners, both. But I also love the “rat rod” end of things, too and the VW scene allows me to do a modest bit of rodding.
Hot Rod Garage and Roadkill are not only fun to watch, but teach one so much.
I wish I could weld and do bodywork – when I have time I would like to learn these skills.
I saw a ’55 Buick in matt black with flames and lakes pipes yesterday evening and the young guy driving it was having a ball.
And Jose, what do you think of the Stray Cats and Brian Setzer?
Very good write-up – it does a great job delving into the agony and ecstasy of ‘roddin.’ I have to say, good on you for knowing when to let go. People watch these Hot Rod shows or read success stories in magazines, and the scale of the time and effort required is always minimized. Those TV shows involve professional shops and a team of people (some of whom you’ll notice cutting corners, if you pay close attention and know what they’re doing). The DIY effort usually involves someone working evenings and weekends for years, maybe a decade, to produce a good result. It’s very difficult to convey accurately – especially to someone without a strong foundation of mechanical and fabrication skills – how much of an commitment building your own hot rod is.
I bought my first car, a ’64 Fairlane two-door post, with the intent to build it into a full-on restomod. Well, I got it going, eventually put a rebuilt motor in, and put 75,000 miles on it, then parked it in semi-operable state and still haven’t really got started on it. Meanwhile, I did a paint job and mechanical refresh on another car, did some major mechanical work on a couple other vehicles, and recently performed a resurrection on a Porsche – that still needs an engine rebuild and transmission work, not to mention body and paint. My twenty-odd years of wrenching hasn’t deterred me, but I’ve learned that the first few steps into a project are very easy, but running out of time, money, or commitment is just as easy. That’s why it’s not uncommon for car guys to pass with a collection of derelict projects, and I realized a few years ago that half my time spent on cars would be wasted, trying to get things done in inadequate facilities. I’m now close to finishing a 900 sq-ft shop, which isn’t all I’ll ever need, but a big step up. The goal is to get the seven vehicles I’ve got into my desired end state, probably sell one or two, and then limit myself to a number of vehicles that ensures all get some use, and the maintenance and upkeep aren’t an undue burden. ‘Roddin,’ in some ways, is the kind of thing you just have to jump into to have some idea where it’s going to go. It’s sort of like “I’m going to build my own house!” It’s probably attainable for the average non-professional with enough time and money, but there’s a reason that, like hot rods, a lot of those projects end up scooped up by someone more able. I guess I bring up the house analogy because that’s me too, still slogging away at finishing a house that I started seven years ago.
Anyway, going back to the roots of hot rodding, there was a lot of back-yard engineering that went into that, and the masses of more dubious results are almost entirely forgotten because they weren’t on the streets very long – let alone gracing the pages of Hot Rod. Someone should do a coffee table book of those hack-kneed projects, but finding pictures and stories of such cars would take some work. The essence of hot-rodding was a pursuit of speed and bragging rights, constrained by the challenges of making a fast car out of something not meant to go fast by swapping parts from newer and more powerful, but also bigger and heavier cars you could get your hands on. It took skill just to get those frankenstein creations to function, and the guy who could figure it all out well enough to win races against other builder/racer types, not to mention rich kids with whatever the fastest thing off the lot was, deserved the status they won. I wasn’t there, but I suspect a lot of that died out in the mid-60s: at that point, you could buy quite a bit of speed right off the new car lot. Then, when that got beat, you had a bevy of cams and carbs and headers at your disposal – largely being sold by the companies the guys who were winning races in the 40s and 50s started. The rich kid advantage at that point was often enough to swamp the ingenuity that it took to be the fastest a decade earlier. It’s too bad, because there’s nothing better than a hobby where throwing money around takes a back seat to passion and know-how.
Finally, not to get into a “kids these days” ramble, but I think we need a movie along the lines of Ford v. Ferrari focusing on the heady days of hot rodding, where guys like Ed Iskenderian and Vic Edelbrock did more to advance engine technology and win races than Detroit’s combined engineering departments. It’s also a time when people thought nothing of doing 100+ MPH in an open car with no seat belts – and many paid the price. Those guys, and the cars they built, were infinitely cooler than the belly button hot rods that most people think of when you say “deuce coupe.” Ford v. Ferrari is a great story, but what’s hard to convey is how much of the know-how that went into the GT40 directly descended from those hellbent-for-leather average Joes, driving cars that looked cobbled together but went like lightning. A lot of their innovations enabled cars like the GT40, and even Ford realized they were out of their depth and hired people like Carroll Shelby to get it done.
3 random observations…
1) When I was the age for something like that Henry Felson book, I for some reason fell into an equally magnetic attraction to Nicky Cruz. For me, it had the same kind of illicit teen age thrills (although I was certainly several stops short of being a teenager), albeit without the damsel on the cover. So, rather than wanting to build a hot rod, I became fascinated with the concept of building a “zip gun” from purloined car antennas. Fortunately, I did not actualize that obsession/fascination.
2) I miss the days when “How to Fix Up Old Cars” could be a marketable book title. I would have loved that book, I’m sure.
3) Apparently the current owner of your partially-finished hot rod has installed brakes that would be right at home in El Salvador (as one would judge from many of the photos posted by Rich B π )
4) The fact that you and your son worked on this car…and the next owner’s experience involved son-father bonding as well…is terrific. Some part of that vehicle has excellent car-karma.
Ok, that was 4.
Great post, Jose!
The Rodders Journal is a quarterly magazine which pretty much died during Covid, although they just published another issue. They had a t-shirt and a cartoon which depicts a Dodge roadster which have been made into rods before.
I am late, but had to share that I remember checking the Smith book out from the library. I was probably about 12 or 13 and quickly discovered that it was a bit over my head.
I am impressed that you got as far with this one as you did, including how you learned to weld!
This was an episode of getting in a bit over my head. Fabrication skills are called for. I was comfortable with the mechanical aspects. I guess that I could have had a shop handle the brake and steering set ups, I looked, but actual Hot rod shops were nowhere to be found locally. This story ends as many of mine did; I just didn’t want it enough to make the commitment. Another thing that concerned me is the safety factor, these hot rods don’t offer much in the way of occupant protection. In fact they could be considered occupant adverse in a collision. This has also recently held me back from buying a 1940 vehicle that I was really attracted to. It’s funny because I was an avid motorcycle rider for 35 years, but there is a lot of collision avoidance techniques with a bike, and you’re not trapped inside an inhospitable environment like an old car.
In regards to music, that Rhino set led to an interest in early Rockabilly music. I discovered a band, Hot Rod Lincoln that produced a fantastic album. I’m a big Stray Cats fan. When Brian Setzer transitioned to Big band/Swing music, I followed along. That led me to an interest in vintage Big band music and I have a big collection of old LPs. Back in the ’50’s, there was a change to the “High Fi” LP format and many older 78s were re-released in the new format.
When I was growing up, every kid on the block could tell a Chevy by the sound. Of course, that was before 1955. Things changed after that. Big time.
Mr. Delgadillo ;
Thank you for this open and honest story .
I’m not a Hot Rodder but I grasp the hows and whys very well having begun assembling running vehicles using parts culled from junkers scattered around the farm in the 1960’s .
Especially cool is that the car was finished and you had a hand in making it so .
Too bad those King Bee headlights didn’t make the final cut .
-Nate
Yes, I too love Rockabilly music and have since I was very young .
I have a stray Cats CD I like to play when traveling .
Brian Setzer too IMO makes good music .
I guess I sort of like Hot Rodding as almost every vehicle I’ve owned gets massaged to go faster safely .
-Nate