It’s hit, middle-age. And we’re not talking the middle-ages with daring knights, villainous kings, roguish Sherwoodian outlaws and monstrous castles built on the backs of the working class. Well, maybe that last part is still a thing but I’m realizing I’m not King Arthur, Lancelot, or even a knave; I’m the guy trying to fix the wooden wheels on his fifty year old donkey cart to go faster in the furrows.
When was the last time you picked up the reprinted work of the medieval Leofrick the Balding, where he humorously regales reshaping his wheels to make better corner time at the farm field’s row end?
Exactly, you haven’t.
When you read you want to be transported to an ideal, not reminded of
the daily grind; you’re already living the minutiae, why would you want to be
reminded of it?
When was the last time you picked up the reprinted work of the medieval Leofrick the Balding, where he humorously regales reshaping his wheels to make better corner time at the farm field’s row end?
Exactly, you haven’t.
When you read you want to be transported to an ideal, not reminded of
the daily grind; you’re already living the minutiae, why would you want to be
reminded of it?
Have you seen the TV show Roadkill? Those guys do some fun
stuff! In the last episode I watched, the stars paid slightly more than I paid
for my daughter’s peddle trike in exchange for an ex-Baja 1000 AMC race car
which they then thrash through the desert for several days without breaking anything.
See the Roadkill AMC show here – Youtube
stuff! In the last episode I watched, the stars paid slightly more than I paid
for my daughter’s peddle trike in exchange for an ex-Baja 1000 AMC race car
which they then thrash through the desert for several days without breaking anything.
See the Roadkill AMC show here – Youtube
But it’s an ideal, Roadkill is only a dream; it’s a dime
novel in the latest opiate-for-the-masses form, television. There’s no way in
hell I could buy an ex-Baja racer for the same price, let alone one that could
be flogged unmercifully.
novel in the latest opiate-for-the-masses form, television. There’s no way in
hell I could buy an ex-Baja racer for the same price, let alone one that could
be flogged unmercifully.
In reality, if I found an ex-Baja race car in my price
range, it would be from 1976 (the worst year for cars ever), lacking everything
but the numbered door, which would serve only to verify that I should be
charged too much for it. If it did run,
it would last approximately 200 yards before exploding, showering me in a
drizzle of burning brake fluid which would
sear upon me that I am a partaker in Adam’s allotment (work, work,
work).
range, it would be from 1976 (the worst year for cars ever), lacking everything
but the numbered door, which would serve only to verify that I should be
charged too much for it. If it did run,
it would last approximately 200 yards before exploding, showering me in a
drizzle of burning brake fluid which would
sear upon me that I am a partaker in Adam’s allotment (work, work,
work).
What am I whining about?
I own a BWM M3 and a Lotus. But I
don’t. If I was on Roadkill I would, but
what I own is a BMW on blocks, and a very fake Lotus tribute.
I own a BWM M3 and a Lotus. But I
don’t. If I was on Roadkill I would, but
what I own is a BMW on blocks, and a very fake Lotus tribute.
And then, I, the modern Dorkfrick the Aging, tries to write
a story to entertain the masses? No, no, no.
Maintaining the M3, and building the Fakey are stories of the grind, not
the ideal.
a story to entertain the masses? No, no, no.
Maintaining the M3, and building the Fakey are stories of the grind, not
the ideal.
Perhaps I should embellish; it worked for Twain – My M3 is supercharged, and certified to race
at top levels, although street legal. My Lotus is real, with 50 years of
outstanding race history, still commonly outpacing modern cars on the Portland
Race… wait, no, Monaco circuit. Yeah, that’s it. Twain would than make an
entertaining tale out of the premise.
at top levels, although street legal. My Lotus is real, with 50 years of
outstanding race history, still commonly outpacing modern cars on the Portland
Race… wait, no, Monaco circuit. Yeah, that’s it. Twain would than make an
entertaining tale out of the premise.
I used to dream of being Peter Egan, the venerable Road and
Track author. When I was 22, writing
blogs that thirty people read, I had hopes and dreams of growing my reach,
capability, and output. Now I’m 35, with
thirty five people reading my blog, and I’m questioning my trajectory. Plus, I’m a Conservative, so it’s only a matter of time until Antifa burns my house down and Google deletes all mentions of me from the internet; readership will then go to zero.
Track author. When I was 22, writing
blogs that thirty people read, I had hopes and dreams of growing my reach,
capability, and output. Now I’m 35, with
thirty five people reading my blog, and I’m questioning my trajectory. Plus, I’m a Conservative, so it’s only a matter of time until Antifa burns my house down and Google deletes all mentions of me from the internet; readership will then go to zero.
I was just reading through old Peter Egan articles, and
realized that when he was my age he was driving a Ferrari across the U.S. in
January snowstorms, and hanging out with F1 racers who stayed at his house
while visiting California.
realized that when he was my age he was driving a Ferrari across the U.S. in
January snowstorms, and hanging out with F1 racers who stayed at his house
while visiting California.
I found some Grand National seats laying on the side of the
road.
road.
Seriously, that’s my big news since the last blog.
Oh, and I mounted my $300 motor in my $300 Fakey car. These
are tales of the grinding (literally), with little humor.
are tales of the grinding (literally), with little humor.
And I do not have an F1 friend drinking beer and cracking
jokes next to the BMW as I change the center driveline support bearing under
the M3; no, it’s just me and sounds of my cursing as I lay squeezed between the
car and concrete floor with crusty road grime falling from the many
skid plates, into my eyeballs, despite my fogged and ill-fitting
“safety” glasses.
jokes next to the BMW as I change the center driveline support bearing under
the M3; no, it’s just me and sounds of my cursing as I lay squeezed between the
car and concrete floor with crusty road grime falling from the many
skid plates, into my eyeballs, despite my fogged and ill-fitting
“safety” glasses.
But let’s come back to the Grand National seats. Finding the
seats roadside was strange. I called a former law enforcement officer, a.k.a. my Dad, asking
him the legal ramifications of taking property left roadside. He encouraged me
to find the nearest home and ask if they knew about the seats.
seats roadside was strange. I called a former law enforcement officer, a.k.a. my Dad, asking
him the legal ramifications of taking property left roadside. He encouraged me
to find the nearest home and ask if they knew about the seats.
The nearest home was around the corner, and surrounded by an
eight foot wooden fence, entirely, with a large imposing wheeled gate just cracked open. I tentatively snuck through the portal,
approaching the deeply shadowed front door porch of a rundown shack. My light knock was answered by a barking,
“What do you want?”.
eight foot wooden fence, entirely, with a large imposing wheeled gate just cracked open. I tentatively snuck through the portal,
approaching the deeply shadowed front door porch of a rundown shack. My light knock was answered by a barking,
“What do you want?”.
“Uh, the Grand National seats, are they yours?”
Then the voice changed to friendly, and I learned about his
Monte Carlo’s new Corvette seats, and that the Grand National seats were filled
with as many farts as they could take, and were ready for a new home.
Monte Carlo’s new Corvette seats, and that the Grand National seats were filled
with as many farts as they could take, and were ready for a new home.
Have you heard C.W. McCall’s song “Classified”? It’s a fairly accurate representation of most my used car/parts buying
experiences.
experiences.
Of course the Grand National seats don’t fit the
Locost. Neither does the (supposedly)
“narrow” racing seat I tried. So I’ll have to make my own fake seats
for my fake car. More manual labor for
Hippledork the Balding.
Locost. Neither does the (supposedly)
“narrow” racing seat I tried. So I’ll have to make my own fake seats
for my fake car. More manual labor for
Hippledork the Balding.
I tried to order adjustable A-Arms from Circle Track Supply for the Locost. A cool product, but it led to one frustrating email stream. They emailed a picture of their ball joint mounts, with measurements.
I then did six pages of geometry to determine what size arms I needed.
Here’s the last portion of our conversation, after I’d received different ball joint mounts than the picture:
Me: The packagers didn’t send me the ball joint mount we had
been discussing.
been discussing.
Them: No reply
Me: Because the ball joint mounts your team sent me have the
ears welded on in a different spot then the one we discussed, one of my arms is
not long enough. We have two options: 1.
Exchange the ball joint mounts for the ones we discussed. This is what I’d prefer… or 2. Trade the
legs out for ones that fit. I’d like to get these on the car ASAP.
ears welded on in a different spot then the one we discussed, one of my arms is
not long enough. We have two options: 1.
Exchange the ball joint mounts for the ones we discussed. This is what I’d prefer… or 2. Trade the
legs out for ones that fit. I’d like to get these on the car ASAP.
Them: WHAT LONGER LENGTH LEGS DO YOU NEED?
Me: The shorter rearward arms/rods needs to be 1″
longer to make it to this tab; the ear sits farther away from the frame on the
ball joint mount I received, then the one we discussed. Which means I need two five inch rear arms.
longer to make it to this tab; the ear sits farther away from the frame on the
ball joint mount I received, then the one we discussed. Which means I need two five inch rear arms.
Them: OK YOU CAN RETURN THEM TO US AND WE CAN REFUND YOU
ORRDER.
ORRDER.
Me: I don’t want a refund, I want the right part that fits
my car which I would have had if you’d sent me what was in the drawing we
discussed! How about you send me the
5″ arm and I’ll send you the 4″ arm?
That would solve this.
my car which I would have had if you’d sent me what was in the drawing we
discussed! How about you send me the
5″ arm and I’ll send you the 4″ arm?
That would solve this.
Them: No reply.
Me: I’m about to order the arms on ebay and tell everyone I
know how silly this transaction was. Do
I not have all the info? Did you send me
the longer arms?
know how silly this transaction was. Do
I not have all the info? Did you send me
the longer arms?
Them: So sorry we have many different ball joint holders you
may pick from these as well see attached link.
may pick from these as well see attached link.
Me: I was sent 56296 and 297; these moved the mounting holes
out about 1″ from the ones we’d been emailing about. 56290 and 292 would
work and are the ones we did the measurement on. Please send these.
out about 1″ from the ones we’d been emailing about. 56290 and 292 would
work and are the ones we did the measurement on. Please send these.
Them: No reply
Me: It’s been almost a month and I haven’t received
these. Did you send them?
these. Did you send them?
Them: CAN YOU SEND ME IMAGES OF THE 56296 AND 56297 SO I CAN
THEM PLEASE AND GET THE CORRECT PARTS FOR YOU
This is when I went to Speedway Motor’s website and ordered the correct length arms and received them several days later.
Well, you know where I’ll be, laying on concrete in the garage, putting skid plates and exhausts back on the M3, while Roadkill thrashes their affordable race car
masterpiece into the desert sunset. I want to be Roadkill. At least my oldest child is getting to enjoy some dune buggy driving –
THEM PLEASE AND GET THE CORRECT PARTS FOR YOU
This is when I went to Speedway Motor’s website and ordered the correct length arms and received them several days later.
Well, you know where I’ll be, laying on concrete in the garage, putting skid plates and exhausts back on the M3, while Roadkill thrashes their affordable race car
masterpiece into the desert sunset. I want to be Roadkill. At least my oldest child is getting to enjoy some dune buggy driving –
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