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(Not) Prepping for Sacramento Bug A Rama Memorial Day Weekend (May 1991)

As the cooler months of Spring made way for warmer days, it was now coming down to "proving its worth" (it being the 94 x 74 motor that has been so much of the focal point of this story so far. What were, just less than a year before, random parts that were living their lives separately, some in glass display cases, some ratholed away in dark corners, and some sitting idly on my desk next to gum wrappers, Black Sabbath cassettes and a stack of dog-eared Hot VWs)- by hopefully making me proud at the quarter mile event. At this point I had never formally driven my car in any sort of organized, sanctioned competition. And as we will see, that was pretty obvious with my haphazard and slothlike approach to prepping the car. In hindsight I see it as pretty comical, all the effort, all the resources spent getting the engine stuff together in one place, and then built. And then splitting the motor wide open so needlessly to replace the W125 Engine with the VZ35, just to, a mere week later, go back to the W125, but then when it came to any sort of checklist, even a very rudimentary one, I completely blew it off.

Simple things, that may take the effort of getting an 8mm open end wrench out of my tool chest, to confirm a gas pedal fully home meant carbs were 100% open... naw too much work. Or making sure brake shoes are not dragging at all when hot. Or getting handbrake to work to help stage the car. No, all of these simple tasks were probably too simple, and returned no glory, so why bother. Right?

I don't know if it was part of the early posts, but it was around this time, on a whim, a girl I had met through a former job (the pizza place, before the Buggy House) and I decided one early morning to hit I-5 south (in my Fiat X19, not the Bug, and God no, not the 1970 Bus) with our ultimate destination being Gene Berg Enterprises. I wanted a curved handle, 4-speed GB6710 shifter. They were advertised occasionally in the back of Hot VW's for $69.95. Sure, I could mail order one, but it's only 6 hours each way to drive.
And so we did, leaving before dawn, a full tank in the Fiat and the blue 1990-91 copy of the Berg Catalog (there was a map on the back cover- this was the days far before Apple Maps or Carplay, which I don't think my X19 had anyway). By mid-day and 350 miles+ later, we had been down I-5 with all its off-putting smells of agri-chemicals and its weird exit names, up and over the Grapevine pass, past Magic Mountain, through the snarls of East LA freeway traffic, and now headed east on Ball Road, looking for the left turn on N. Lime. All this to buy a gearshift, but we all know it wasn't just a transaction. I was 20 years old and was living on a strict diet of the old Bill Fisher HP book, Hot VWs articles on anything to do with hot rod stuff, and all of the tech stuff (that I could actually digest, which really was the limiting factor) that Mr. Gene Berg did such a thorough job at in his catalog and other articles in price sheets, etc. To actually enter the building where all this was originating from was far from just "buying something", this was entering a sacred tabernacle.
Once we pulled into the parking lot, just a bit north of the entrance, I had to get myself together. I was nowhere near prepared to explain to anyone in there why I was buying this shifter. I imagine walking from the car, into GBE, I probably resembled a dog on its way to get its nails clipped, head down, ears flat back and my tail squarely between my legs. Maybe I should have just mail ordered it. They'd blindly box it up and send it out UPS, not knowing it was a lowly 20 year old kid, daily driving an X19 that was purchasing the shifter.
After a few deep breaths and futile attempts to gain some composure, I walked in with my female companion. We turned left and approached the counter.

Oh No.
Gene is running the counter. I recognized him from all the pics I'd seen. He was talking to someone not in view about something they both saw on TV the night before. I kept my distance from the counter, out of respect, not to interrupt the TV discussion. But he saw us and redirected his attention towards me. "Help you?"

I was terrified and amazed and terrified. This is the guy that made it clear do not call and place orders unless you know your customer number. Do not ask to cancel special orders for 90mm waterboxer cranks after the order's been placed. Do not run a oil strainer on ANY performance motor. Do not call and ask his team for advice on anything they do not sell nor prescribe. Do not use a cast frisbee with any high rpm, wait no, wait, cast what? What was I supposed to not do there? Oh man,

Somehow I kept it together and said "Hi, how are you? We just drove down from uh Bay Area and I want to buy a shifter. The GB 6710." He just sort of looked at me, then my friend, gave her a playful wink and smile, and then said "I think we sell those."
And so he walked out of view and was back in a moment, with a gleaming real-deal Gene Berg shifter skin-packed on a black and white cardboard backing (the black being a silhouette of the black '67 drag car and the 'Gene Berg Has it All' verbiage). Folded into a light blue square, tucked behind the shifter was what I guessed would be the instructions to install.

"That what you were looking for?"

"Yes sir, yes it is, thank you" (Please don't ask me anything else!!!)

"What year car is it going into?"

(OH GOD, no no more questions) "Uh a '67. A blue one."

And the conversation went, we began talking about how long I had owned the car and what else I had done to it. With each of my answers, my companion would get another wink and smile from Gene. I even grew comfortable enough to let him know the motor was made with 94mm pistons and was running IDF carburetors. And was ready to run. But he was a kind man, he listened intently and seemed sincerely interested. The fear of death mellowed and I think I may have even smiled.
We finished our business and he wished us a safe trip home.

Once we got back to the car I blurted out "I could buy some of those technical instructions he writes!! I mean, we're here, I should buy them while we're here!", my friend not knowing at all what on Earth I was going on about and just nodding in agreement.

So we walk back in. Gene is still at the counter, mid-conversation with the unseen voice.
"Back so soon?"

"Yeah, uh yes, us we, I mean I, I wanted to buy some of your technical instructions, the tech writings, please..." (mouth getting dry, throat constricting, temples pounding...) "The uh valve spring one and the cooling one and the cylinder head one, please"

And in a moment Gene slid a stack of stapled documents across the counter "That'll keep him busy", he says with a glint in his eye to my companion.

"Thanks, what do I owe you?"

"Get on outtta here, I never saw you in here" and now I got the playful smile.

"Gee thank you sir, thank you so much!" (in my Beaver Cleaver voice).

And so it was. The man behind the legend was just like some of the other guys I knew in the industry. They were in it because it was what made them the core men they were. Gene wasn't this towering deity that would lay waste to my mention of 94mm cylinders, he was a guy helping the industry perpetuate.

It was just that past summer, July 1990, it was me, driving back from Costa Mesa, from first OC VW show I had ever been to, it was then that I decided I wanted to, no, I had to- become the best VW parts guy I could be. It wasn't about any type of ego trip or healing wounds from the past. It was a calling that hit me like a Greyhound bus, flat out. It was beyond a love for what I knew about the scene and the industry. I wanted to be part of what all these guys had worked to become. It all made sense now.

The drive back to the Bay Are that night was a cloudy thought-stream of ET's, pics of the black Berg car launching, what the new shifter would feel like, and upcoming Sacramento event.

Those blue instructions that came with the shifter. We will see (soon) I should have actually read them.