1990-1993 (FORMERLY 4 YEARS- NOW CONDENSED TO 3)
alex d:
great writing like always! can't wait for the followup ;)
Jim Ratto:
Summer months of 1990, or more specifically, The Weekend It All Changed
Ok back to summer of 1990, 8)
So when I realized not only was I missing a suitable merged header and mufflers, but also a gearbox which would live, I had to accept none of what I was planning was going to happen in any kind of hurry. Luckily my parents hadn't been on my case about the mess in the garage, with the old engine gutted and spewing oil onto the floor. In addition to the black-green Fiat X19 I had been driving around, I also picked up a 1970 Kombi Bus for $300.00. It was cosmetically not the greatest, with an original wine-red lower and white roof, but it supposedly had a fresh rebuilt in it and mechanically seemed alright. I thought it would be good for camping and hauling parts around in, though the Fiat had worked ok for both conditions as well (yes seriously). A few weeks later, when driving the bus, I noticed the oil pressure light glowing more on than I was comfortable with. I figured, optimistically, that the guy before me probably had 5W30 or something in it, and I'd just drain it and refill with Kendall 40W. But when I drained it, the oil twinkled and pooled in a shimmering metallic blob in the catch pan. Obviously now the Bus needed a motor too. So it would sit while the stroker was attended to for the '67.
I asked at work about what to do about my trans. I got conflicting opinions, of course. Mark, the manager at the time, thought I'd better go full tilt with axles, gussets, etc. Jerry, who seemed to never take anything I did seriously, thought I could get by with a snap ring Super Diff and "some good god#mn mounts, you're not goin to Indy!". In the end, I talked to the guy that did the shop's off road trannys and got his advice. He merely said "I know what you need, no problem kid." (This was Mike Collins, later he'd be the same guy that tried talking me out of running 48IDA's on my street car, but then caved in and sold me his for $400.)
And in a day or two, Mike pulled into the back parking lot, in his yellow Mitsubishi pickup truck, with a swingaxle trans, complete with axles, tubes and boots. He walked up to the counter, quietly approached me and almost in a whisper said "Kid, your tranny's in the back of my truck. Don't let Jerry know it's yours. He's still waiting for me to get his stuff done. Where do you want it?"
I blinked in disbelief. (How could this guy I barely know moved me "up the list", even ahead of Jerry?). "How much do I owe you?"
Mike: "Four hundred bucks. Not now, whenever you can. Don't starve over it." .
Wow. How come that went so easy? Nobody yelling at me. Nobody making me feel dumb. Nobody trying to get rich off a dumb teenager. Only problem was trying to figure out how to get a swingaxle trans home in a Fiat X19....
Oh yeah, Frank to the rescue again, he had a 1973 Ford Courier truck.
So now it came down to the header. What to do? I believe it was this week, on Friday morning, Mark the manager said "You hear about that show tomorrow in So Cal? Cost Mesa fairgrounds? VW Jamboree?"
I replied "yeah I saw something about it in Hot VW's last month, why"
Mark: "Jimmy, take the day off tomorrow, go check it out. You should see one of those Orange County shows. It'll blow that little mind of yours. Go ahead buddy, take tomorrow and head on down..."
I stammered out "You sure that's cool? They have swap meets down there too? Think I can find a header?"
And Mark didn't say anything, he just did his typical big wide grin, squinted and put his shades on. I learned soon what that meant.
And so the following day was The Day. It would be the day my aimless teenage life went from flopping around between dead end girls and dumb ideas, towards a real sense of focus and accepting who I was and was about to become. It would be the day I stopped caring about the trivial and started to give a crap about making the most out of what I could do. I would start noticing detail. I would start listening. I would start to weed through bullsh*t.
The next day I quietly threw a change of clothes into the boot of the Fiat, stuck a wad of cash in my shorts pocket and pointed the Fiat towards Los Angeles.
More soon,
leec:
Loving the stories. It makes me think I was born too late and in the wrong part of the world :)
Nico86:
That's the kind of things I'd like to read in a car magazine :) Thanks for sharing!
andrewlandon67:
Holy hell, Jim... this is incredible.
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