It’s been a good week in Fort Stockton. But then, someone once told me, “If you don’t think every week is a good week, just try missing one.” Cooler temps are becoming the norm, even dropping down into the sixties at night. I have a greater appreciation for the sixties than I used to, whether that involves temps, cars, or people.
Rex Hall, owner of Rex Hall Drug here in town, visited some relatives up in Nebraska and brought back a big ol’ bag of rhubarb and gave it to Lucinda. That’s a treat that isn’t available down here in God’s country. She and Delgado used it to make a bunch of strawberry rhubarb pies from a recipe her mother had passed down to her. They sold out in no time because there are only a couple things better than strawberry rhubarb pie. Well, really only one, Rice Krispie Treats. But only a fortunate few have ever sampled Lucinda’s version of that delicacy.
There was plenty of fan news this week. HairlessB29 is in the midst of celebrating his 60th High School Reunion. If there aren’t some car related stories to go along with that auspicious occasion I will be severely disappointed. If 1964 wasn’t at or near the peak of automotive nirvana for a senior in high school, I’m not sure when that might have occurred. I’m hoping the MGA that has been in the Bald Bomber’s family since new and is still in his stable played at least a small part in the festivities.
We hadn’t heard much from Marty Roth for a little bit. Turns out he’s been up at Hershey. He sent pictures of some of the venders and cars he encountered while he’s there. He sent pictures of CMC caps distributed around the swap meet. I like to think there were dozens of them in attendance, but the reality is I think it’s just his strategically placed in different locations.
The boys from Arizona who were going to swing by for a look at the Fairlane 500 on their way to Michigan to pick up the 1959 Ford Custom 300 with the new Coyote power plant under the hood ended up flying instead of driving. Maybe they’ll catch me on the trip back. I got pictures of the progress on the Ford. It’s close to being finished and a thing of beauty. I promised I’d wait to show the car when it’s completely done, just for the full effect.
I got you up to speed on AngusHopper gifting a Mileage Maker Six, should I need it. I got a picture of the truck that is the actual project the doner truck was acquired for. Maybe I’ll get some more info and pictures as that project continues to develop.
Marks65shelby shared a video from his YouTube channel, one of several detailing the efforts of bringing his ‘66 Shelby GT 350 back to life. Apparently there are a lot of us with old Fords in the garage that are in the process of being brought back to life, a lot of them from the 60s. (Or 1959, which is close enough.) If you missed it, here’s the link to his channel:
https://www.youtube.com/@garagegrandpa66shelby
With all the emphasis on cars from our youth, dream cars we’ve always wanted, or first cars we’d like to have back, I couldn’t help but wander over to this week’s Mile Marker on Bring a Trailer when I saw that it involved Sludgo possibly selling his MGB after 45 years. I was startled by the irony. He’s contemplating getting rid of his first car after 45 years at just about the same time I got mine back after about the same amount of time (okay, not the actual first car, but as close as I’ll ever find).
I get the impracticality of keeping and maintaining an old car. But getting rid of it seems like something that could be laced with regret down the road. While not quite there yet, I can appreciate the arguments of fixed incomes and limited resources, something I am beginning to think more about than I used to. But the relationship Sludgo has with his MG B has outlasted two wives. And my understanding is that former wives are more expensive than most MGs. Luckily I have no experience with that. I guess we’re all on different paths. I did enjoy reading the comments of regular followers of the CMC blog as they related stories of their own first cars on MM 179.
Indeed, every car is a story. And a touchstone for most of us.
After finishing my large wedge of strawberry rhubarb pie over at the Grounds for Divorce, I asked Lucinda who was going to be awarded Comment of the Week this time. I wasn’t really prepared for her answer. “The whole thing exhausts me. I’ve got my hands full with pies, and running this place. Hell, the Bunn-O-Matic shit the bed earlier this week and cost a fortune to get fixed. Parts for those are more scarce than fuel pumps for a Fairlane 500. And sometimes Delgado is like having a toddler. Granted, he’s a tall, attractive toddler who possess talents that are unique and appreciated. I mean the man knows his Rice Krispie Treats. But, damn.” She seemed a little out of sorts. “Besides, it seems like every week someone comes in and complains about who got the award.”
Anyway, I didn’t press it. Maybe next week. I’ll have to agree that this week would have been tough to choose. Especially with the comments generated by OKAY, BUT WHY? Some darn good insights offered by many of the CMC readers.
Somehow, don’t ask me how, tomorrow starts another seven part series. I have no idea how that happened, other than the fact that something inspired a story involving several non-related cars and characters that somehow all ended up coming together at the end. Enjoy.
In the meantime, remember: No matter how good the soap smells, don’t exit the Men’s Room sniffing your fingers.
12 responses to “FROM THE BACK OF THE BERMUDA, 10/13/2024”
Reunion Blues
The anticipation was great for my 60th HS reunion as I had mentioned to the Captain a couple weeks ago, but as was made crystal clear to me last evening on so many levels, we’re all subject to the vagaries that life permits us to experience, or conversely, withholds from us.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
This was to be a special occasion as my closest high school friend had managed to clear his normal mid-October calendar of European river cruises, fishing trips with the grandson and spousal dictates that often required visits back to her Indiana hometown. He was also anxious to attend the reunion, but it was not meant to be. Hurricane Milton had other ideas, and he had to cancel. My buddy was left waiting for restrictions to be lifted on accessing his home on one of the barrier islands off Ft. Myers so he could assess the wind and storm surge damage. He’s dodged the bullet several times weather-wise, but it looks like this time was different. When CBS News uses your neighborhood as a horrible example of devastation , it’s not a good thing.
As an early baby boomer, I attended high school at a time when the Student parking lot only held about 20 cars and most of the time wasn’t even full. There were a couple hot rodded cars out there, but this wasn’t an especially affluent group of guys and there was not much of a car culture, per se. More of a beer-drinking culture and one that I studiously avoided. In an unhappy confluence of circumstances, several of the car enthusiasts were also beer and liquor enthusiasts who never made it even to the 25th reunion, having failed to meet the minimum physical requirement, namely of maintaining a pulse. This is all to say that I detected zero talk of GTOs or ‘63 split window Sting Rays among the attendees, despite the Captain’s optimistic conjecture of what was sure to occur. Sorry to disappoint, Cap’n.
Over the years, the “normal” array of physical maladies cut down several in our small class, male and female alike. Then there were the ones who “refuse” to attend due to past slights real or imagined that they can’t or won’t bring themselves to overcome. A few of those apparently involve racial animus that, frankly, I guess I was too dense to pick up on back then. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing I personally didn’t contribute to whatever slights they may have perceived from other classmates. Most painful, perhaps were the attendees who were there last night, but not completely. We’ve already lost a few in our class to dementia or Alzheimer’s or however one wants to classify it; looks like there’ll be a few more before long.
Alas, the MGA was not to make it to this reunion. Even though it’s street-worthy, I would have hesitated bringing it to the downtown Italian dive on the wrong side of the tracks where the party was held. Street parking? No thanks. To top it off, there was no opportunity for any kind of highly visible “grand entrance” either, so what’s the point? I also passed on arriving in the Golf R for much the same reasons, although yesterday morning it did get a real good workout driving up to the foothills for a nice breakfast. For the reunion, it was the dirt-brown SUV, hosed off in deference to the special occasion.
My absent friend encouraged my significant other to use his prepaid event reservation so his expenditure wouldn’t go to waste. Normally, the Sugar Plum would not have attended. We’ve just never made it a point to reciprocate on each other’s reunions, and that seems to have worked out well for both of us over the last quarter century. So, along she came, and true to form, she dazzled everybody she met, including, presumably, those who may have long suspected I actually was living solo under a bridge abutment next to the river. I may not have wowed the audience by attending in my “64-Year Family Owned MG” as BaT might headline one of their auctions, but at least several in attendance were likely amazed that old Hairless inconceivably ended up with such a gorgeous and vivacious age-appropriate gal.
Thus, despite the disappointments served up this last week, as the Captain observed up top, each and every week has to be considered a good week, especially in light of the alternative. Sometimes it doesn’t seem at all fair that such a dullard as I has been granted as long a life as I have thus far, and in relatively good health. This I attribute to some basic behavioral realities: no kids, two almost ideal long-term relationships, virtual total autonomy in my professional career, with no one reporting to me, and — finally — only one bad habit, one that’s never involved having to show an ID to engage in. Lucinda would know, as would Sister Thelma.
I’ll comment here, cause it’ll get lost in all the falderall (I’ve never typed that word before).
I don’t have a clue what clubs Marty Roth belongs to…but they certainly sound entertaining.
…which is a segue into my real comment: In the future when the trillionaire who invents life-like robots that you can buy, I’m going to put in a recommendation for a Lucinda.
Imagine when the day comes when the BAT comments are about: I’m trying to decide if I’m going to sell my Lucinda, or keep her to just look at.
Good Morning, Captain,
and all who start their day with this amazing blog.
Thanks, Cap’n, for the mention. This, my 41st continuous, and probably 48th or 49 Hershey, was excellent with picture perfect, Chamber of Commerce weather, a fantastic RM-Sotheby’s auction, slightly fewer but mostly excellent vendor offerings (along with my own – but mostly an opportunity to visit, to renew friendships, and to create additional ones. I especially enjoy my judging responsibilities, and have been teaching Professionalism in Judging as a part of AACA’s Continuing Judge Education (CJE). Once again, and as ever, I was fortunate to be part of an excellent judging team – this time judging amazing Brass-Era cars. When was the last time anyone saw three 1911 Oldsmobile Limiteds and a pair of 1911-1912 Locomobiles side by side with a 1912 Rambler Cross Country, a ’12 Abbott Detroit 44, a ’10 Stearns, 1912 Velie, a 1911 Pierce-Arrow 36-UU, and a 1909 Rolls-Royce 40/5 Silver Ghost. My friend Charles was judging the big ’30s Classics (no drooling allowed).
As is so often the case, the car corral was huge, varied, and excellent – but the real highlight is the Eastern Fall Nationals, more commonly known as the Hershey Meet. The show was down a bit more to slightly fewer than a thousand vehicles, as a dozen years ago it was around double that number.
On the swap Meet Field, my friend’s 1927 Packard was sold, brokered by another friend – to yet another of my friends, neither buyer nor seller having known one another, and I’ve known even the prior-prior owner, going back to the 1970s. That one will be toured extensively by her new caretaker.
Disappointingly, no one seemed to notice, or maybe just pay attention to my Captain-My-Captain Ball Cap, and yes, that was mine in multiple pics. Maybe they just didn’t want to be seen as knowing ME, but I’ll assume everyone was simply too engaged looking at parts, cars, and the occasional spectacularly attired young ladies who accompany guys with a briefcase (presumably cash-filled) chained to a wrist.
The two vintage unassembled metal Hubley 1:22 scale 1930 Packard Roadster and Sport Phaeton, and the 1:12 scale 1937 Cord S/C ANT/ERTL, as well as the Danbury Mint 1957 Retractable and the 1932 Cadillac V-16 Sport Phaeton all immediate found new homes, as did the round-top Packard trunk and the pair of S&M yellow lens Driving Lights, and virtually all of the toy cars which went free to young kids whose parents didn’t buy the expensive restored stuff from my neighboring vendor.
Safely home, and with thanks to our daughter and grandson, I’m back caring for my bride of 55+ years as we prepare for her next round of MRIs, CT Scans, tri-weekly chemo, and her 2nd cataract replacement surgery. When all goes well we’ll head to Tucson in the ’54 Caddy convertible to drive VMCCA’s Western National Tour, and then hope to support the AACA Louisiana Region’s annual Thanksgiving Week Progressive Tour.
By the way, our simple directions from New Orleans to Tucson:
From Lake Pontchartrain, go south on Clearview Parkway, bear right on I-10, exit at Tucson and hrad to the Desert Diamond Casino, stopping just long enough to enjoy a cuppa’ Folgers from Lucinda’s Bunn-O-Matic, and hopefully visit with the folks at the big round table –
heading out just before the first full week of November, and back maybe 10 days later – or maybe take a side trip and drive with a few friends from St. George, Utah to Santa Fe, New Mexico before heading home.
Hello all,
Just wanted to share a little something from myself and The Little Woman. Not sure ifin’ the link will work, but It just might be worth the effort. If it doesn’t work I’ll sign up for some computer courses and try again.
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1GauRY_k-CV48rqyjxYfVGjV4VZ-2pim_/view
Have a good week!
Benard Marx
I’d say, there aren’t many things better than a good strawberry rhubarb pie. Mrs. Motcat has an aunt back in the buckeye state that makes a strawberry rhubarb pie that can bring a man to tears and fall on his knees. While I of course appreciate a Rice Krispie treat, with a strawberry rhubarb pie I can eat 1 slice after another with no rest or recovery in between slices.
There is something to be said for being able to overindulge at will. No disrespect to Rice Krispy Treats, obviously.
Hey Cap’n! Thx so much for the shout out this morning! Was surprised to see it as I caught up on things Ft Stockton! Always an interesting visit….
peace and health your way…s
You just never know who’s going to roll through Fort Stockton. I should have recognized the sports car out front of the Grounds for Divorce.
Count me among those who hope it stays in the Sludgo garage. You can put a price on what it will sell for. You can’t put a value on what it’s worth.
In a strange way, I’m glad you found Lucinda a bit out of sorts, Captain. I’ve come to believe that you can’t trust those who never are.
Glad you heard from Marty, too. I was starting to wonder if hurricane aftermath caught up with him.
Looking forward to the next multiparter!
Thanks much for the plug, Cap’n! I confess, I missed the latest Mile Marker on BaT, but I wholeheartedly agree with your sentiments. My own project is a continuation of ownership (though not with the same car) that was interrupted twenty eight years ago. You can’t beat the nostalgia of owning and sharing your passion with family or complete strangers. In fact, our family had its own encounter on our way to a football game this last Friday. With two grandkids stuffed in the backseat (about the only size that will fit back there) and their dad in front, an admirer pulled up alongside asking how much for the car? When told it wasn’t for sale, he literally began flashing wads of cash – made for a funny story after the game at the local Steakburger. Well, turns out the real highlight of the evening was said grandkid making three touchdowns and two interceptions, and the car in the background like a faithful servant, where it ought to be.
Thanks again for link – looks like I’ve got some ground to catch up on with my CMC cap and shameless plugs in upcoming vids!
Keep up the good work. There’s nothing like an old car from our youth or grandkids. Enjoying both at the same time is priceless!