While waiting for Liv to finish the shopping I usually wander into the mag aisle at the supermarket. I flip through Hemmings and Hot Rod and see what's up in the world of cars I can't afford, but I was happily surprised to find Vintage Motorsport in stock last summer. The Javelin cover story didn't light my fire, but I did a double take when I flipped past this pic in the middle of the book... Ernie McAfee was one of the original California hot rodders- he ran modified Fords at the dry lakes in the thirties and developed into quite a mechanical engineer. Either poor eyesight or his aviation industry work kept him out of the army in WWII- he was busy developing his speed technology while a lot of his buddies had to take a few years off. Post-war he got involved in road racing, engineering a modified MG that became his calling card for bigger and better (and faster) things. He and John Edgar kept tinkering with the car, including adding a cool custom body. (Sadly the car was wrecked for the racing scene in the 1959 film On the Beach -which you need to see if you haven't already!) Until I saw that photo I hadn't realized that McAfee was ever affiliated with Crosleys. I knew that he raced and sold Siatas, (above he's ready to take off in one in the Carrera Panamericana) but he specifically ordered non-Crosley engined cars. He was getting the largest motors available in those tiny beasts, making what were in essence micro-Cobras now that I think of it. The article doesn't go into any detail about the HotShot other than that the photo was taken at Palm Springs in 1951. McAfee was at one time affiliated with Bill Devin (who got his start racing Crosleys) so that may have been the connection. In any case, it was a happy surprise to find- especially in the grocery store. The bummer part of the story is McAfee's death at age 37 in a nasty wreck at Pebble Beach in 1956.
VM keeps a backstock of most of their back issues- you can order a copy online if you're interested in getting the full story...
A little late (OK, a lot late) but a fine design by Richard Hansen and interesting content covering the 25th Anniversary West Coast Meet and Clan Liebherr's assault of the salt. And for those of you who are NOT members of the West Coast Club, here's a teaser of the classified ads you're missing:
I recently stumbled across this picture, labeled 'pride of Mr De Giorgi', on my friend Davide De Giorgi's Facebook page.
The photo stopped me in my tracks, not only because it's a tremendous shot, but also 'cause I love Volvo P1800 models- I might well have bought one instead of the Savoy had an 1800 been able to hold four sets of buttcheeks. There were a few more pics showing Davide with the car on a European roadtrip. I admit it, I was jealous.
Davide is, like me, a car nerd. But where I feel compelled to own one of everything (especially if it hasn't run in decades), he has so far refined the art of appreciating someone else's car. This is how Davide lives comfortably in the heart of London with his bicycle, and why my house looks like the Joad family microcar farm. I knew he was on the verge of getting married, that he was a not-quite-starving architect, and that London is not an easy place to park a car every day; I really wondered how he'd managed to swing this.... I met Davide in Sicily on the first day of an Italian tour that had been booked for my rock and roll band. The promoter had booked us with an Italian group so that we could share equipment, and he assured us they were great. They were. The Introducers turned out to be four college kids from Turin- Davide was one of the guitarists. We spent two weeks traversing Italy with 8 band members, a promoter, 2 pals and a ridiculous amount of vintage guitars, amps and drums crammed into three cars. It was one of the best times in my life. Davide and I hit it off right away. All of the Introducers soon became extended family, but Davide and I had the car thing in common. I think we figured it out when he and I both went apeshit at the sight of a Siata sedan sitting seemingly abandoned near the docks when we took the ferry from Sicily to mainland Italy. It was surprisingly solid for a car sitting that close to the ocean (actually all of Sicily is pretty close to the ocean), and I was fascinated- I'd never known that there were non-racing Siatas! Davide knew about Siata's racing heritage, but was surprised to learn that some had been built with US made Crosley motors. I took some pics (Davide's the guy in front- my pal/bassist/AMC Marlin-owner Stan's in the back) in a hurry since we were supposed to be getting on the ferry. It wasn't long before I helped the Introducers come stateside for a tour of the West Coast. My house was tour HQ and we often travelled in my then-daily driver, a '62 Plymouth Valiant wagon, which Davide always referred to as 'she'. He enthusiastically pitched in when I had to do an emergency brake job before leaving for a San Francisco gig- the other guys were pretty nervous, but we got 'er done. One day we were driving around Sacto in the Valiant when a street rodded 50s panel truck pulled up next to us at a light. 'The motor sounds great,' Davide said admiringly. 'Probably a 350 Chevy,' I said. 'How do you know this?' Davide said, skeptical. 'Ask him,' I said. Davide rolled the window down and asked what kind of motor it had. 'Chevy 350,' the guy says. '350 tranny behind it?' I leaned over and asked. 'Yup.' Light changed, he drove off and the guys looked at me in total wonder. I never told them that pretty much any car the color of an Easter Egg has a 350 under the hood.
I emailed Davide immediately when I saw the Volvo. I couldn't believe he'd been holding out on me! Turned out he hadn't... not really. He had bought the Volvo in England- and driven it to Italy- but not for himself. He'd simply facilitated everything for his brother Mauro, who is an even bigger car nut than Davide. It was Mauro's very clean MGB-GT that had changed my mind on those cars- they look awkward in pictures, but are oh-so-cool in person- especially when you're tooling around Italy in one. Here's Mauro at the wheel of the MG: The De Giorgis' hometown is Torino- the Detroit of Italy. That everyone in Turin isn't a car nut is sort of astonishing to me given that it's the home of both Fiat and Carlo Mollino- one of those amazing 20th century industrial designers who drew up everything from lounge chairs to Le Mans racers. I got to see Mollino's bizarro asymmetrical racecar, the Bisiluro, in a museum show of his work when Liv and I visited Turin on our honeymoon. It's an amazing car, with the engine on the right side of the car, and the driver on the left. It was apparently hell to drive due to the weird offset, and retired fairly early in the 1955 Le Mans. Still- an amazing concept. Looking at the Bisiluro's small motor got me thinking, of course. I can't find it now, but I did turn up an early design for the car with an engine that looks an awful lot like a Crosley. At the time Mollino initially started the project, a Crosley-based powerplant (maybe with a snazzy etceterini dual cam set up and the billet crank) would have been a very logical engine choice. The Crosley motor would certainly match up with a driver's weight better than most others, even Italian iron. Davide still doesn't have any vintage tin of his own. But, he surfs Bring a Trailer daily, and often sends me odd automotive tidbits that he turns up in his other webtravels. It's funny to me that he and I have bonded over car stuff when we met halfway around the world for a completely different reason. Given the bad rap that car guys often get as knuckle-dragging morons, it's great to find the Davide De Giorgis of the world to keep the record straight. A salute to you and yours, my friend!
I usually stick pretty close to cars here, even if I do drift a ways from everyone's fave 26 point five mighty mite. Today, I'm going way off topic. Django Reinhardt was born one hundred years ago today. One of the greatest jazz musicians who ever played, Reinhardt developed a signature guitar style that set the standard for those who came after him. His life was a series of triumphs over adversity; at 18 he survived a fire that left him with several useless fingers and a paralyzed leg, leading to a unique fingering approach that allowed him to play with the use of only two fingers on his fretting hand. Django was on tour in the UK with the Hot Club of France when war broke out. Though he was a gypsy, and thus under threat of immediate deportation to a Nazi concentration camp, Reinhardt returned to Paris. Paradoxically, Reinhardt thrived under the occupation, playing and recording constantly with little trouble from Nazi authorities, probably due to the influence of a Luftwaffe officer who was a secret jazz fan.
Reinhardt died of a brain hemorhagge on May 16, 1953. He was 43 years old. He left behind hundreds of recordings and a legacy that is unmatched by any other guitarist.
Also today, I turn 44 years old. As I look back on a life spent with neither the tragedies nor majesty of Django's life I'm just glad that I can still hear him play.
Dale Tholen was one of the crop of specials builders that did Crosley proud back in the fifties and early sixties. His first build (currently owned by Bonneville racer Gerald Davenport, I think) was not only a terror on the tracks of 1955, it was one of the best looking homebuilts of all time- good enough to show up on the cover of Road & Track!
As great as the first car was, Tholen soon began thinking of improvements, and had another car built and on the track by the early sixties. That car was the ThunderMug, another good-looking hmod special, currently offered up for sale here. Once again Tholen created an elegant design, although the ThunderMug appears to be much more of a stripped racing thoroughbred than the comfortable boulevard racer the first car was. Tholen's 24 pound fiberglass body appears to owe a nod to contemporary Jabro designs, especially in the rear.
This time out Tholen foreswore the Crosley motor in favor of a handbuilt engine assembly largely based on parts from 3 Maico single cylinder motors. I'm assuming that engine was problematical since the car eventually received a Crosley powerplant, although the original engine is included in the sale.
If the custom powerplant perhaps underperformed on the track, it was responsible for the car's singular name- the engine's unique gurgling sound supposedly mimicked the sound of a flushing 'thundermug' (old-timey nickname for a toilet)!
I spend somewhere near 40% of my waking hours obsessing over old cars. Usually, this obsessing revolves around an improbable American micro car from the midcentury period-- the Crosley. My fascination began with a quest to strip down my life by driving the world's simplest car.
Turns out that nothing is as simple as it seems.
Ernie McAfee was one of the original California hot rodders- he ran modified Fords at the dry lakes in the thirties and developed into quite a mechanical engineer. Either poor eyesight or his aviation industry work kept him out of the army in WWII- he was busy developing his speed technology while a lot of his buddies had to take a few years off. Post-war he got involved in road racing, engineering a modified MG that became his calling card for bigger and better (and faster) things. He and John Edgar kept tinkering with the car, including adding a cool custom body. (Sadly the car was wrecked for the racing scene in the 1959 film On the Beach -which you need to see if you haven't already!)
Until I saw that photo I hadn't realized that McAfee was ever affiliated with Crosleys. I knew that he raced and sold Siatas, (above he's ready to take off in one in the Carrera Panamericana) but he specifically ordered non-Crosley engined cars. He was getting the largest motors available in those tiny beasts, making what were in essence micro-Cobras now that I think of it. The article doesn't go into any detail about the HotShot other than that the photo was taken at Palm Springs in 1951. McAfee was at one time affiliated with Bill Devin (who got his start racing Crosleys) so that may have been the connection. In any case, it was a happy surprise to find- especially in the grocery store. The bummer part of the story is McAfee's death at age 37 in a nasty wreck at Pebble Beach in 1956.
