Neat old story. There is this bar a few towns over from me called The Library. Good food, great salad bar. My old guitar teacher had an acoustic gig there weekly. I used to go and hear him rip out some cool acoustic versions of popular tunes. Neat seeing his 6 foot 8 scary biker jacket stance fretting up that Martin. Dude had black hair down to his knees. Scary looking dude, but great guitarist and teacher. Anyway, The Library got it's name because the walls were all lined with books. So getting a decent meal, listening to some tunes, and grabbing a book to past the time was a damn good time. I remember reading a few odd unpopular books, but one stands out. It was about an old green chevy from the 40s that this serviceman customized. I kind of remember chapters but not the whole book. How he raced, wrecked, rebuilt the car. Old school stuff described.
My dad foretold of days in the 50s and taking a trashtruck motor out of wrecked city truck and shoving it into a 51 chevy. Big 6 cylinder and somehow fabbing up 3 carbs to feed the beast in the 3 on the tree. He and his buddies would get what was called "Bastard Torque" at around 500 rpm. It would chirp the tires until they put some type of slick made tire and then it would pull the front wheels up slightly. And like son like father.....My dad shattered the rear axle. The rear had only a few lifes on it and full traction on a one wheel one legger was a recipe for destruction. The car was actuallt registered to his budy, so it was to get fixed after next weekend or something like that and never did. My dad had his 53 chevy and then his 58 triumph. Dad was more preppy than me with penny loafers, flood pants, and collared shirts. Hence the TR3. He eventually went mopar. Thus, had my brother and me doing front drum brakes on the 69 Valiant on a cold Saturday morning (many times).
