1960-61. I was 14 with a permit to drive farm vehicles. In the fall, I turned 15, and got my drivers license. Ahh freedom, I thought, not knowing then that I would become a slave to the internal combustion engine. What a invention. It changed the world. For better or worse, we have all been affected by this phenomenon and continue to be so. I had worked all summer for a farmer baling alfalfa hay. I spent from morning to after dark on the haywagon behind the baler, stacking 125 bales to the load. These bales weighed 85 to 100 lbs a piece. By the end of the summer, the counter on the baler read 5000, and I had filled out to 165 lbs. My arms had developed. I would be walkin' around the county fairs in a cutoff t-shirt and I got no shit from anyone. Anyhoo, that summer the farmer had parked his 2 DR Hardtop 51 Ford Victoria that he had owned since new, and bought one of the UGLIEST Fords ever made- a 1960 4-door GALAXY! I wondered if he would sell me the '51. It was all I would want! Soon the summer was over and it came time to collect my wages. It was the last day of work. Labor Day Weekend was coming, and it would be back to school....”Let's eat”, the farmer said! After a great meal, he offered me a Grain Belt beer. He said “I'm broke. I would like to make you a offer- the 51 and that old Lincoln Arc Welder, and you can fill up from the gas tank for the rest of the fall. I've got the title and keys here.”
By then we were on our second beer. My hand was shaking as I signed the title as the buyer. My DREAM had come true. I had gotten more than I had wished for- It was all I would want! We loaded the welder and filled the Vicky with gas. After telling me he would need me for silo filling that fall, I drove my first car home. It was a time in my life that I would feel truly happy!! Fuckin' Aye!!
I told my Dad. He already knew, as the farmer had asked his permission to give me the car. “So take it Easy now, okay son?”
“Pop, I'll be back later. I'm going to town”.
My first stop was Butch Williams garage and gas station. Butch had grown up friends with my two older cousins and was a stock car racer and motor builder. He would become a member of the 200 mph club on the Bonneville Salt Flats ten years later. I was showing off my pride and joy to him when a couple of my hoodlum friends stopped in. We did what was a common practice in 1960- we got a case of beer.
In those days, little towns usually had a part-time constable. County sheriffs would only come out to the villages if called. The night would change my life for better or worse. An automobile - along with the beer - became another addiction to go along with my smoking. I had no idea how these three things would have, and continue to affect my life.
Now with wheels under me, I quit riding the school bus. From that day on I drove to school daily and with it I had troubles from the first day! I knew then I wouldn't be around for long. Minnesota state law was that a
16-year-old could drop out. I was big and strong. I could work hard. I didn't need this crap. I was going to school with kids. At 16, I would get my chauffeur's license and I would drive a truck. School didn't make a lot of sense to me. At 16 I would quit. Until then, I would stay in school and play the game. I still had a little over a year to do.
Meanwhile, I skipped school a lot, working at Butch's garage, trading him my labor for the use of the stall with the lift after his day was over at 5 pm. It was great. I had given him the Lincoln Arc welder- the garage was wired for it- and I got good at welding up pipe. I put dual-exhaust on my Vicky and did exhaust work for Butch. I had my eye on the '53 Merc flathead- what was called a FULL RACE motor, Offenhouser aluminum heads, a two-carbed Manifold, with Stromberg Carbs. Cam. It was all I would want.
By that spring, Butch knew I would soon go back to work as a farm hand. “Well, when are you gonna put that full race flathead in your car?” Butch would ask.
”Fuckin aye!” was what I said.
After cutting and bending up a pair of headers, I purchased a heavy duty clutch. I hooked the three-speed overdrive tranny with the new JC Whitney floor shift onto that fast little flatty. It found its new home in the '51. I would win many drag races until 1961 when Chevy brought out the 350 HP 327 motor, and the one The Beach Boys sang about...THE BADASS 409! New cars like a '62 could be had by Sept 1961. I heard that Ray Korker who lived in Watertown bought a 409. I went looking for him. Wasn't until after dark that I found him.
“What kinda 'clunk' you got now?”I asked Korker.
”A Ford beater!” he said.
”Lemme see.”
“All you're gonna see is my tail lights!”
He said ”Show me! Meet you out on number 11.”
As we lined the two cars up, I heard his motor rev. I couldn't hear my Flathead. I revved my motor higher. As the starter dropped his arm, I heard his tires break loose, throwing hot rubber that looked like sparks from them15” tires. His exhaust drowned my exhaust out. That big Chevy was gone so fast, I thought I killed my motor. I heard him hit 2nd gear. I rolled to a stop. All I saw was those 6 taillights a quarter-mile down the road. HOLY FUCK!!!I had been beat once before, by a 327 chevy Impala, but only by a fender. I slowly drove home. Depressed. I knew what Butch had been telling me: the day of the flatheads being the fastest on the road wasover! Overhead valve V-8s had more power. That Dual Quad, four speed positraction 409....It was all I would want! Rat
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