Here’s some clips of some of our runs yesterday. Your host wiping out and cracking ribs is at about 6:20. Gnarly dude!
In a rare case of planning ahead, I had a stacked four-day weekend full of learning, entertainment, and adventure. Friday, I did the HQL course to get my license sorted out, as mentioned earlier. On Saturday I was in the car headed down to Southern Maryland to visit with my father-in-law, take him out for some Mission Barbecue, and go through his mail. We sat and talked for 2 to 3 hours, mainly me listening about his history in rural Pennsylvania, and then I drove back home through cold dark rain.
Sunday, we hosted Karean and Zachary to go to see the Lion King at the Hippodrome in Baltimore. This required a ton of housecleaning, which mainly fell on Jen, but I threw in that morning to finish up the last minute stuff for their arrival. We were also finishing up an overhaul of the guest bedroom, following a remodel we did last year where the new color turned out to be a bit too vibrant and a couple of values too dark. It was a nice color but made the room feel smaller. We bought a lighter shade of the original color and I rolled it on three walls, leaving one for an accent. Jen framed two pieces of art we bought in Portugal and bought a third for over the bed. After sewing up the new blackout curtains and building a roller shade for the bathroom door, the whole room really came together. Jen picked out fabrics and colors that accent each other and it really feels great in there now—much lighter, larger, and complete.
Sunday morning we got churched up and drove into Baltimore at noon for the 1 o’clock show. This marks the third show we’ve seen at the Hippodrome and it never fails to deliver. This show was amazing: it’s the traveling Broadway troupe and they do an incredible job. The costumes were breathtaking and the set design is incredible. I would bet it’s even more inspiring on a large Broadway sized stage (the Hippodrome is a smaller, Vaudeville-era venue) but we enjoyed every minute and a double Vodka Matata (vodka, ginger, beer, and lime) made everything even more pleasant. After the show, we drove to a fancy Ramen restaurant in the inner Harbor and loaded up on noodles, pork rolls, and gyoza. Properly stuffed, we headed back to the house, got in some warm PJs and caught up on the couch before getting to bed early for the next day.
Monday’s activity was driving up to Roundtop for a day of snowboarding. Finn declined to go so it was just Karean, Zachary and me. We got our rentals sorted out, accompanied Karean to the bunny slope, and gave her some pointers to practice on before her lesson. After watching over her for a run or two, Zachary and I broke off and hit the blue slope. After he got his confidence under him, we really started having fun. The mountain was pretty empty, which was fantastic: the lift lines were almost negligible and we didn’t have to avoid crowds of people on the way down. The snow was typical manmade Eastern stuff, but there was enough down that it wasn’t a sheet of ice and it was cold enough outside to not be slushy and wet. But after enough people went down the slope it started getting rough in patches as they dug in and started making grooves.
On my third or fourth run, I was switching directions, my board caught an ice ridge and I flipped downward on the mountain landing on my left side with my arm underneath me. It all happened very fast and I didn’t have time to cushion myself, and I got the wind knocked out of me. My ribs felt very sore and tender, but I got up and kept boarding. Zachary and I got about seven more runs in before lunch and the grin on his face got bigger and bigger with each ride down the mountain. We did about five more runs after lunch and wrapped things up at three, meeting Karean up in the bar above the lodge. Zachary is really into snowboarding, and I’m going to redouble my efforts to get him out at least twice a year.
My ribs are very tender this morning. It’s mainly the fifth and sixth, directly under my left arm on the side. Jen found me a Lidocaine patch and I put that on last night before bed; I’m going to keep applying them until the soreness goes away. If I had to guess, they’re either bruised, or possibly fractured, but there isn’t much any doctor could do other than tell me “don’t fall on them”.
Thursday morning I got up early, put the dog out, and got a quick shower. Brian was due to arrive at 7:30 so I made coffee and threw my gear in the truck. After swapping his truck for mine in the driveway I kissed the girls and we hit the road by 8:30.
The drive out was uneventful. Brian and I swapped out turns behind the wheel every 100 miles or so, whenever we were stopping for gas. It added time to the trip but it was also key to staying loose after being in the truck for so long. I still can’t get over 15 or so gallons in the tank without it backing up and overflowing (I filled it up two days before we left and it stank of gas the entire time it sat in the driveway), and haven’t been able to fix that issue, so we just put 10 gallons in every 100 indicated miles—which is actually 113 due to the speedo not being calibrated. Siri directed us north to Pittsburgh and then over to Cleveland, and from there we curved down into Indiana and then to Fort Wayne.
The total trip was probably about 9 hours in total including stops. Aside from the road noise, the Scout is a very comfortable long-distance traveler, all things considered. With modern seats and power steering she’ll do 70mph all day, and the seating position is upright enough that you don’t feel like you want to fall asleep after an hour’s drive.
We got in around 6PM and after checking in the hotel, we found a brewpub nearby for some dinner, then stopped at a DIY carwash to scrub dirt off the truck—the first time I’ve ever washed it before a show—and picked up some beer and supplies for the weekend.
The show details weren’t explained very clearly on the website, so we had to ask some other IH folks at the hotel what time to arrive. On Friday morning we got a free lobby breakfast and made it to the grounds at about 9:30, and by then a lot of vehicles had already arrived. We were put at the end of a mixed line of trucks facing a wall of IH road tractors from the ’80’s and settled in to our camp. The nice gentleman who parked us told us we weren’t supposed to put up a tent but we waited until he was gone and did it anyway; the sky was dark and cloudy and the forecast showed a lot of rain for later in the day.
This show has a different vibe from Nationals. The volunteers were out in force and were very helpful; many of them were retired IH workers who were happy to see all the trucks. There was no real organization for vehicles so we were next to a couple of Scouts, a big A-series pickup, and backed up against a D-series pickup. Across from us sat a Scout 800 and a tractor. The variety made for an interesting walk around the show; there was something new on every row. A giant tractor, then a Scout, then a fire truck, then a couple more Scouts, then set of Cub Cadets on the back of a flatbed. We got out and walked the side we were on, then did a loop around the back to see the vendor booths.
There weren’t as many used parts vendors as Nats. Coonrod’s had a big trailer full of goodies, and there was another guy with a Scout, a C-series pickup, and a trailer full of parts for sale. Most of the Light Line vendors were there, but some of them had clearly scaled back their displays. In all, it felt smaller than Nats.
I was hoping we’d be able to drive through the Engineering Center like they did for the first couple of Homecoming events, but it turns out the building has just been sold and will likely be torn down for something else. The museum where they were displaying the older trucks had to be moved from that building to storage, their fate unknown.
In the afternoon it started to sprinkle, so we re-adjusted our tent and moved it over the truck. Soon, it was raining more heavily, and we realized we were stuck in the middle of a circling derecho directly over Fort Wayne. We held the sides of the tent down while the wind gusted and it downpoured, waiting for a lull, and when that came we quickly broke the awning down, shoved it in the truck, and hightailed out of the show. Luckily the wipers were functional, and the Rain-X on the windshield did its work, so we were able to make it to the hotel drenched, but with no problems. After a soak in the pool we got showered and waited for the rain to taper off so we could get some dinner. We found a nice brewpub down the street and settled in for a beer and some pizza. On the way back it started raining again after some shakes at the local ZESTOS! and didn’t let up until 9PM that evening.
Saturday morning we got up and out the door earlier, aiming to get a better spot in the rows. We stopped off at a little bakery we’d spied for coffee and donuts, avoiding the hotel lobby food, and drove the long way around the factory to the main entrance where the International tower stands for a photo opp.
It’s looking run-down and sad over there. It would have been amazing to see the place in the ’60’s when it was going full-steam and was being cared for. We shot a bunch of photos and I set up the tripod for some timer shots. That was worth the time and effort.
Then we drove in the back way to the show and got a great spot next to our new friends from Pittsburgh. This time nobody warned us against the awning, so we set up camp and made ourselves comfortable. The second day was much busier than the first, because more people could show up on Saturday—so we were pleased we’d gotten there when we did.
I made a beeline over to the used parts guy to haggle for two things I’d seen on Friday: the first was a C-series instrument panel with later-style indicator lights on the outside. My panel is OK but I really like having indicators I can actually see; the early-style panels had a very small horizontal slit through which the lights are barely visible during the day. As a bonus, the gauges are all matching with black faces. As I mentioned in a video last month, the ones I’ve got in the Red Bus are three different colors: silver, black, and gold, having been swapped out at different times. So wiring this one up and making things match will be an improvement.
The second thing I found were a set of C-series reverse lights: glass lenses with heavy chrome bezels. I don’t have reverse lights on the red bus—it came with a giant spotlight on the roof which may have been a reverse light, but I tore that off with all of the other junk lights up there, so this sets up a future upgrade after I get her on the road.
Coonrods had a set of pretty black Scout II door cards at their booth—patterned vinyl stretched over masonite board—that I considered briefly, but wisely decided I didn’t need. There was another used parts vendor on the backside who had a bunch of C-series metal laid out on the grass; one thing that was very tempting was a complete front cowl in better shape than the two I’ve got for $200, which was a screaming good deal. I hemmed and hawed over it for a while but noticed the shape of the grille opening is a later style; mine is concave on the sides to fit my grille while this one was straight. My cowl needs serious help, and this would have been an easy swap, but I’d like to keep the truck as close to a ’63 as I can. So I passed on that too. In hindsight I could have kept it and resold it later, but decided against dragging more parts home.
The sun was much stronger on Saturday so we spent a lot of time under the awning in the shade. That being said, we also spent a lot of time walking through the rows and checking out the trucks. Being further west geographically, there were more trucks we hadn’t seen Nats or other shows, which was refreshing. We met a bunch of new people, including the couple from Pittsburgh who were showing a freshly restored Scout II in a mint green color. He was already talking about his second truck and eyeing the lift on Peer Pressure.
At 4PM we’d had enough of the heat and broke down the awning; by that time several of the long-distance vendors had already left and the rows were thinning. We headed back to the hotel to load in the gear, take a shower, and find another place to eat. This time we found a brewpub closer in to the center of Fort Wayne and had sandwiches and cold beer in the air-conditioning. While we ate, we talked over plans for engineering and producing a DIY electric steering kit for the Scout 80/800, which several people at the show had expressed an interest in. I’m also interested in doing this for C-series trucks, with mine as the prototype.
Sunday morning we checked out early, topped off the fluids in the truck, grabbed a McDonald’s breakfast, and hit the road. The first couple of hours through Indiana and all of Ohio were temperate, even comfortable in the sunlight. Pennsylvania up through the hills was cool and dry. But as we descended towards the Maryland state line it got hot and sticky, and then we hit the only traffic on the whole trip on Rt. 70. Thankfully these slowdowns were only for ten minutes at a time, so we avoided sitting still. And I’m happy to report that as hot as the engine got, the needle on the gauge never climbed above its normal spot on the left side. I did smell oil on heavy acceleration, so I’m going to have to track down where that leak might be coming from—my guess is the valve covers are weeping somewhere.
We finally rolled into Catonsville at about 6:30 and I sent Brian on his way home with a couple of cold seltzers; his fancy Ford has A/C so I’m sure he cooled off quickly. I dragged my basic gear inside and left the rest of it in the back of the truck to worry about later.
The final mileage tally was 1041 indicated on the gauge, which works out to 1182 miles true, which checks out (Siri pegged the trip from home to the hotel at 548 miles one-way).
We had a great time, mostly because Brian and I got to hang out together for the whole weekend; but it’s a different vibe than Nats. I think the big thing missing from this show is the feeling of community; every year in Ohio there’s a huge party in the parking lot at the hotel each night, and on Saturday there’s a barbecue and food and an auction with all kinds of things donated to raise money for charity. It goes from 6PM until whenever and it’s a really warm, cooperative experience. In some ways it’s better than the show; last year Brian and I stood out late with a group of people, including the owners of three of the better-known Scout shops in the country, just shooting the shit over beers and laughing. That’s really hard to replicate. This is a good show but it’s over at 4PM every day and it felt like everyone just went their separate ways. So we’re both thinking we’ll go back to Nats next year and maybe Harvesters in the Holler if we can work out the timing; the former is in June and the latter in September—but right around Finn’s birthday. We’ll see how it shakes out next year.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
Last week, while considering the two trucks I’d learned about in New York, I got a text from Bennett:
The owner is a friend’s family and they wanted it gone before it collected more tickets from the local constabulary; I told Bennett I wanted it and asked for his help in going to get it. He got in touch with his brother for the towing rig and a plan was hatched.
Sunday morning I met Bennett over at his storage yard so that we could pull the Hudson off the trailer, park it, and use that for hauling. Before we could leave, we had to replace the hot lead to his trailer winch, which took some surgery and delicate tinkering. Moving the Hudson was pretty easy (we’re used to this procedure by now) so we were on the road north by 9:30.
The truck was at the bottom of a tricky driveway at the end of a fast curve, so I stood outside and stopped traffic while Bennett expertly backed the trailer up the hill (digging the bottom lip all the way up) on his first try. He backed it down the lane to stop at the rear bumper of the Travelall.
She looked worse in person than in the photos (big surprise!) Like she’d been at sea for years and had been beached in a storm. The owners of the house came outside and watched as we busied ourselves setting up the ramps and unloading tools.
The first issue was that it was on four flat tires: two of which were questionable and two of which looked like a dinosaur had been snacking on them. I put my compressor on the “good” ones and got the passenger’s front to fill and hold, while the driver’s side rear would fill and empty at almost the same rate. So: it was up to the winch. We aligned the ramps and yanked the truck backwards up to their edges, and realized the trailer hitch would never clear the deck of the trailer. But we’re pros at this: we stacked up some scrap wood and propped them with 2×4’s to lengthen the ramps and make the angle work better. I put a long board between the hitch and the trailer, levered it over the edge, and we were quickly up on the deck. Turned out the one good tire was bolted to a drum which had frozen, so it was effectively useless.
We pulled it back as far as possible but knew having the engine over the rear axles was dangerous, so we made a plan to flip it around as soon as we found a good-sized parking lot. After strapping it down tightly, we said our thank-yous and I went back out to the street to cover traffic. Bennett got up a head of steam and came down out of the driveway at an angle to avoid getting high-centered, and we were soon on our way.
Down the road we found an empty restaurant parking lot with a couple of steel posts that would be perfect for our next trick: pulling the truck off the trailer, then loading it on facing front. He backed it up to a post which we fastened a strap around, and he gently pulled forward to pull the trailer out from underneath the truck. The front tire—the one with air—still wouldn’t budge. We used the strap to pull the truck backwards to clear the post, and Bennett turned the trailer around to meet the front of the truck.
When we’d gotten the Travelall about 1/2 of the way up the trailer he remarked that he was impressed with how well the battery was holding up on the winch; fifteen seconds later the winch began to sputter as the power dimmed. We dicked around with ratchet straps and a come-along that was definitely not strong enough, and finally unhitched the Ford, pulled it up to the front of the trailer, and used jumper cables to juice the battery enough to get the truck winched all the way forward.
From there it was easy to strap the truck down and get on the road. After a quick lunch at the diner up the street, we drove back to Maryland through howling wind and snow showers to my house, where I’d moved the red Travelall backwards to make room.
Here we used a similar method to get the truck off the trailer: we hooked my tow strap to the telephone pole and the tow hitch on the truck and Bennett simply pulled the Ford forward. We quickly threw a tarp over the carcass to hide its beauty from my neighbor, who is coincidentally trying to sell his house—sorry!—and packed things up. Then we drove back to his storage lot to help get the Hudson back up on the trailer. We got everything covered and strapped down, and took off for home.
I haven’t had a ton of time to look the truck over, but here’s what I see so far:The outside sheet metal is all Pennsylvania-good. Meaning it has rust in many of the same places the red truck does: in the front fenders at the bottom and over the eyebrows, in the front grille below the marker lights, behind the rear wheels at the bottom of the arches, and in the bottom corners under the taillights (mine is solid here). There’s good chrome trim around the outside which looks like it might all be intact. There’s one good chrome rocker trim on the passenger side—the driver’s side was ripped off at some point. Both bumpers are in excellent shape, and the rear bumper has a set of inset reverse lights. There’s a beautiful roof rack and luggage rail setup on the roof. It’s a single-tailgate model but we can’t figure out how to open it—there’s no handle anywhere, and this truck came without a key. The drip rail is in excellent shape given how long this truck had been sitting. There’s a lovely patina of the original IH green, buffed down to red primer, splashed with yellow lichen across the whole truck.
Inside, it’s a 4-speed stick, and the furnishings are all Custom—it says this on the dashboard. Fabric door cards, fancy steering wheel, padded dashboard, and deluxe headliner. The front bench is shot, and the rear bench had been folded forward, so I can’t see what shape that’s in. Water has gotten into the truck from the driver’s door seal so the front floors and seat are wet. In the far back, there’s what looks like a heat or A/C unit sunk into the wheelwell on the passenger side, and a square toolbox on the driver’s side. The chrome trim for the headliner inside is all intact, and there are two visible dome lights.
A quick look under the hood revealed a V8 with power steering, and a large brake booster, as well as a mount for an A/C compressor. It’s IFS up front, which means there’s no leaf springs for me to grab, but I can definitely pull the rears to have them re-arched.
So, the next steps are to do an inventory of what’s good and what’s not, and start pulling parts off the truck. I have no title and no bill of sale, although the owner said he’d look for the former. Our cursory inspection showed a lot of rust and I’m sure it’s deeper than it looks, so stripping this truck down to the shell won’t bother me too much. Jen doesn’t want it lingering in the driveway, and neither do I, so I think I’ll sell some Scout parts to make room for Travelall parts. I’ve already dug two spare fenders out of storage, and I can sell one set of spare doors to free up a lot more space—Bennett said he might be interested in them, in which case they are his for the asking.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
Six years ago, I was facing a very serious battle with cancer in my abdomen, and at that time we had no idea how serious things would be. While I faced radiation and chemotherapy, Jen set Finn up with friends who could watch her while she shuttled me to and from the hospital for treatment. One of the fathers of those friends knew what I was up against and offered her homemade marijuana candies to help keep my appetite up and pain levels down, and I gratefully accepted them (we only just got legal weed last year). They were a godsend when the radiation completely fucked up my digestive system and my body was expelling chemotherapy four or five times a day. I never forgot that, and I don’t remember if I ever properly said thank you. That’s been on my mind intermittently for the past year.
We found out he passed away suddenly last week, and I’m kicking myself for not having followed up on that thought.
The beginning of the week was quiet, but I put almost two full days in over the weekend.
With the glass and other stuff out of the back of the Travelall, it’s much easier to start some of the preventative maintenance I’ve wanted to do to the rear frame and crossmembers. Saturday afternoon I lifted the rear bench seat out and pulled up the plywood floor. Then I put on some ear protection, fired up the compressor and the needle scaler, and got to work. Starting from the back I took as much scale off the unpainted metal as I could find, making my way to an area over the rear axle. Then I brushed on Rust Converter to everything I’d cleared and let it sit. I started around 4 and finished when the sun was setting, so there’s still a lot more to do—and I haven’t even touched the underside yet—but it’s already looking much better under there.
Reorganizing the garage a bit, I stumbled across an extra box of weatherstripping and realized it was doing me no good here. So I put it up on Marketplace and got a pretty immediate response from a guy in Washington, who was also interested in my old brake booster until I did the research and learned it would be something like $80 to ship it out to him in Washington. So the windshield gasket is on its way to him, and the brake booster remains in the Heavy Metal corner of the garage next to the old starters, spare Dana 20, and other stuff.
A brake has been instrumental to the plans I drew up for the doors on the seat base, because I wanted to bend a quarter-inch of metal along the edges on the three sides to add structural stability and make it look better. My Harbor Freight brake is woefully unprepared to bend 18 ga. metal at the measurement I need. On Sunday I met up with Bennett over at our friend Brian’s shop to get a couple of projects done. Bennett was there to clean up the carburetor on his Hudson project as well as tinker with Heavy D, which has been sitting there for several months waiting for a windshield replacement. I was there to use the heavy-duty finger brake Brian inherited with the pole barn shop on his property.
I started messing with the brake and putting a couple of scrap pieces through it to learn how it worked and where the sweet spot was. There was only one finger clamp on it, so the first long section of metal I bent didn’t stay still and bent unevenly. I took a break, had a donut, and Bennett suggested looking around the shop for the other fingers. I found them along the back wall and installed three of the fattest I could find, then put another long test sheet through. When those results looked much better, I marked out some new metal and started bending. We had to do some creative adjustment to the brake, because the bending plate was so close to the lever plate it wouldn’t release the metal when I’d bent the second side. This involved unscrewing the plate from the bottom to release my metal, but it worked. After I got two doors bent and test-fitted, I helped Bennett mess around with Heavy D, got it started for the first time in forever, and installed a choke cable before we both headed for home.
Back at the house, I investigated how I could bend the short edge with the tools on hand. I’ve got a cheap wide vise I bought from Harbor Freight back in the day, and after some testing I realized I could bend the width I needed with that and a pair of vise-grips blocked into place, keeping the entire width of the metal on basically the same plane. After making the initial bend, I had to hammer the center sections flatter with a combination of deadblow hammer, wood blocks, and metal scraps. When I had it flat and straight, I welded the corners up, cleaned them up with the flap disc, and trimmed the length of each to allow for the width of the hinge knuckles.
When those were in place, I tacked the hinges in place and test fit the doors; all my cuts looked good. So I flipped the hinges, cut some tack holes in the doors, and welded those into place. If I had to do it over again, I’d have put the weld on the underside, but I think it looks pretty good either way.
So the doors are in place, and next I need to cut and install a pair of stops opposite the hinge side for the doors to sit on. I’m going to wait until the locks come in next week so that I can design around those. I was originally going to cap off that gap in the middle, but now I’m considering adding a plate underneath to make it a shallow tool well to utilize some dead space.
The other thing I spent a bunch of time looking for last week was a hinge of the proper size for mounting the seat to the box. The hinges on the seat base are beefy; the pin is 3/8″ in diameter and the knuckles are thick. I found a lot of hinges with the right pin size but nothing with a leaf the proper length—the interlocking sections of the hinge I’ve got are 1.5″ wide, and most industrial hinges I’ve found with that pin size are only 1″. While I was at Brian’s, I was looking at his scrap pile and found a beefy hinge with a 3/8″ pin and a 2″x2″ leaf—exactly what I had been looking for. I texted Brian about it and he told me to take it with me.
Monday I had off for Columbus Day, so I got back outside and kept rolling. First I cut two hinges down to the right size, trimmed the knuckle widths, and test fit them on the box. When I liked what I saw, I tacked them in and fit them to the seat. With that confirmation I burned them both into place and cleaned up the welds. The plates will get two bolts through the square tube for extra structural support, but I like where things are sitting (literally) now.
Then I got out the needle scaler and wire wheel and continued working on the chassis while I had the rear floor out. Before finishing up for the day, I brushed on some Rust Encapsulator. I’ll finish coat it with chassis black when it’s all ready, but there’s a lot more to go.
Meanwhile, I’ve tried removing old upholstery adhesive on the vertical surfaces with every chemical I can think of and a rubber eraser wheel with no success. Frustrated, I tried a small patch with the wire wheel and found that with a very light touch I could get most of the old crust off without going through the paint to metal—there are a few places where the paint is very light—but it mostly came off with little damage. I was always going to respray the inside anyway, so I’m not worried about patchy areas. It’s nice to have that stuff cleaned up, for sure. I’m going to see if Hobo Freight sells a plastic bristle wheel for an angle grinder and see if that’s more gentle on the paint.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
Saturday morning, the family rose early and walked down the street to help sort and assemble boxes of foot for two local food pantries. We’ve done this for a couple of years now, and we’re getting to be pros at it; this year’s date was a month or so early, so the amount of food donated wasn’t as large as we were used to. But we all pitched in and made ourselves as useful as possible. At events like this, with decentralized leadership, we’ve found it’s always best to stand back and let someone else explain how things are going to work and what needs to be done, and I think we’re all very good at staying out of the way but pitching in where needed.
We walked back home, let the dog out, and then drove into the city for a tasty sushi lunch in my old neighborhood at the foot of Boston street. It’s boring and repetitive to write about how much things have changed down there, but it’s good to see some things are still similar. After filling ourselves on lunch I bought the girls our first PSLs of the season at the Starbucks up the street, which were…underwhelming. For $16 I was really expecting a lot more flavor. Then we drove up to my other old neighborhood and stopped in to the MICA bookstore for Finn to find some art supplies. I picked up a new watercolor pad and some window stickers to replace the one that crumbled on the Accord, and while I was there I spied a big retrospective book they produced a couple of years ago:
Thumbing back through the years I stumbled on a page about Portfolio Review day, which is (in an oft-told tale here at Lockardugan Central) where Mom and I drove down to Baltimore, I showed them my work, and was offered admission to the school on the spot. I took a picture of the page because this is exactly how I remember it—sitting on the steps in the Main Building to visit the various desks. Thankfully my friend Jeff and I had already attended a series of other Review days at Pratt and Cooper Union so we knew what to expect and how to set up our work.
On Sunday I got up and drove over to Columbia, where I met up with Scout friends and helped Bennett get the Hudson off the trailer and moving under its own power. We really didn’t have to do much, other than unstrap it and get it started; the accelerator pump is shot so it bogged down when he got on the gas, but it ran enough for us to take a few short drives up and down the lane.
Then we headed back to Bennett’s house to help demo a trellis on his back deck, which has been leaning drunkenly under the weight of a 20-year-old wisteria. We strapped it to an adjacent tree and used various power and levering instruments to remove most of the wood and stacked in in the back of his truck. Then we paused for some lunch and cold beer, and by 3PM were packing up for home. The rest of the day was pretty relaxed and we were all tucked into bed by 9:30.
My friend Bennett went out and found himself the high bidder for a 1950 Hudson Hornet at an auto auction last weekend, and asked the boys if anyone could help him get it home. I love an adventure, so I met him at his storage facility and we drove down into D.C. to pick it up. He’s got a good hauling truck and a heavy-duty trailer with a winch, so the actual recovery was pretty drama-free.
When we got it back to the storage lot, we had the first real opportunity to look it over, and realized it was very complete. Someone had pulled the original Hudson straight-6 out and put a Chevy 350 in with an automatic transmission. It was done well as far as we can tell, too—they put time and effort into the wiring, welding, and engineering. It has a new gas tank, driveshaft, and exhaust, so we figured what the hell and tried turning it over. With a new battery and some gas in the bowl of the carb, it fired right off. So we put some extra gas in the tank and kept it running long enough for the fuel pump to draw from the tank, and it idled on its own happily. Bennett tested the transmission, which appears to shift cleanly.
So this brings our record of dragging-shit-home-from-an-auction-and-getting-it-to-run to 2 for 2; the plan for next weekend is to bring a couple of guys back over and see if we can cruise it around the parking lot.