Follow along with the F Bomb's adventures!

Watch THIS for a little background on our journey, beginning next week!

It's official. I have a co-pilot

     

As much as I try, I'm unable to really capture Gary's energy, personality, or history with mere words. Here's a guy, that once waited for eight hours with me, at an upstate New York rest area, while I was stranded with a borrowed BMW 2002. But it goes so much farther than that.

     The back story: It was 2003 or 2004. I was asked to drive a friend's car to Hartford CT from Baltimore MD, so that the folks at my destination; “Sports Car Restoration”, could perform an estimate on some minor touch up work. The guys at SCR live and breath 2002s. Since I was having them do all the metal and paintwork on my own car at the time, this was an easy favor. The car was already beautiful...and remains so to this day.

     On the way back, it lost a head gasket. This was years before I owned a cell phone. I called the guys at SCR using one of those “pay phone” thinguses, and they said Gary (who was having them restore his own 2002) was on his way back to New York City, but hadn't left yet. Gary got on the phone, asked where I was, and proceeded to drive about 70 miles to meet me. He then used his phone to call a flatbed truck, and we waited. And waited. And waited. We followed the truck back to Hartford in Gary's other 2002, and arrived around 10:00pm. After the formalities of unloading the car and handing the keys over, he offered me a ride back to New York, where he'd make sure I had a train ticket back to Baltimore. I somehow arrived home, in the back of a taxi, around 5:00am. Longest Day Ever.....and the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

     Now that Gary and I have been friends for a few years, I realize this is just pure, standard behavior for him. It's just what he DOES. I moved back to Western Pennsylvania about six years ago, and (as fate would have it) landed a job about 4 miles from Gary's farm in Evans City (yes, film geeks.... THAT Evans City). I signed a lease and kept in touch with him, occasionally seeing him during visits to the shop to talk about our mutual love of 2002s. Gary still owns the very same 2002tii he bought new in 1972. One day, he offers up this tantalizing statement; “You know, I have another one behind my barn. Are you interested in it?” The rest is history.

     Seven weeks after I dragged the car from the back of Gary's barn, he and I cruised on a seven hour road trip to North Carolina, for “The Vintage”....an annual event focused on classic and vintage BMWs. As we rolled in to the parking lot, there were standing ovations. This car...and Gary... ooze positive energy.

Mojo is its own fuel.

     Along the way, we talked about everything under the sun. Sex, Drugs, Rock N Roll, Movies, Wine, Cars, Travel.... and we still haven't finished running out of things to talk about. We made a superb traveling team.

I'm as flattered by his desire to go with me, as he is for my request that he be my running mate for this high mileage, high speed tomfoolery. He said to me, after he made the decision; “Look! I wouldn't go on a cross country trip with just ANYBODY, you know. I rely on known talent, for such an adventure!”

Me too, my friend. 

Photo Credit: Linda Lovecraft

This is going to be long. Because it needs to be long.

     “Overwhelmed” is the word I keep typing in each and every “thank you” message I write. I've spent the last hour writing them to people that have chosen to offer their support (financially and otherwise) for this insane road trip in a crusty old car.

     I'd like to state publicly and for the record, that choosing a fund raising site for this cause was not an easy task. The world is so full of injured and damaged lives. Inequity. Need. True need, that asking for help in the pursuit of my own ridiculous travel goals seemed almost insulting to those that use such fund raising websites for softening the absolute devastation that comes with life's pain and loss. I've experienced loss. I'm intimate with it. I'll leave it at that, for now.

     While formulating the plan to raise funds for this epic adventure, I decided to do a quick “self Google” - just to see what kinds of things people might find, if they didn't already know about me or this weird little car I chose to save and drive. What I found was heartbreaking in the finest manner imaginable. There, six or seven links down, was a GoFundMe site started by someone I have never personally met, dedicated to raising money so that I could fix up my car. The BMW 2002 community is a tightly knit one. Given the kind of support I've witnessed, over the last few years of ownership of this particular rat, I can't say I was thoroughly surprised by such generosity. Our little group is famous for it. I guess it was just my turn to be on the receiving end. From what I could tell, the GFM site hadn't ever gone “live” and was sort of a pipedream of good karma, perpetrated by a fellow, former 2002 owner. I was floored, and forced to think about a few serious issues, regarding the frivolity of such fund raising, and what I really wanted and needed out of this road trip and why it was important. I'll get to that another time, but here's the thing I need to share with you all, and what became the weight that tipped the scales for me, when pondering the guilt of using a fund raising site for my little adventure.

     The man that started the previous GFM site on my behalf, himself benefitted from such a fundraiser. Organized and perpetrated by the very same 2002 owner group that I consider family. His needs were different than mine. Very different. About 12 years ago, his wife was in an absolutely devastating automobile accident. The impact of her head and brain against the door glass of her own car, left her in a state that can only be described as “shattering”. I cannot dictate with accuracy the condition of her mental, emotional, or physical condition in the days, weeks, and months that followed her injury, but I can tell you I was given a small window, through which to see the emotional destruction, and eventual, never ending process of rebuilding, this event had on her husband and family in every aspect of their lives...minute by minute.

     I am reminded almost hourly, that my problems are so very small. Let me assure you – I have them. And I am not very skilled at asking for help. This later point was made very clear to me in recent weeks.

     The fact that a human being, who himself, had endured such a life eviscerating experience, and who turned to the generosity of others to help heal some of the wounds, chose MY SELFISH CAUSE to champion a few months ago by creating a GFM site dedicated to me, razed me level with the earth. He writes poems about his feelings and frustration and gratitude, that his wife is still alive. The kind of poems that made me cry openly when I read them, yesterday. If he thinks I'm worthy of this generosity, that's good enough for me. 

I'll just leave this here...

This is what $2.2 Million dollars sounds like.

     The car is a 1963 Ferrari 250GT Lusso. One of 350 manufactured between 1963 and 1964. It was Ferrari's attempt at building a "luxury" coupe'. That means it had a heater fan and a cigarette lighter. This machine was purchased by its current owner in 1979, and has been in our shop for nearly five years undergoing a complete nut-and-bolt restoration. Countless hours have been invested in making the sheet metal and body even better than the original product. The interior has been completely re-done, and I took responsibility for building its 3.0 liter, V12 powerplant, and subsequent tuning.

     As an automobile mechanic.... this a dream come true. The task was a mixture of both hilarity *and* terror in building such an iconic engine, complete with three beautiful Weber carburetors. Little reference material is available for these motors. What you learn.. you learn from old skilled hands and kind hearted advice from those well versed in Italia.

I work with some astoundingly talented and conscientious people. The end result of all this earnest work and extreme effort is nothing less than stunning. Hours upon hours were spent making sure the grill fit flawlessly. The door shells were re-made by hand, from aluminum. Even the tapered spark plug looms were made from scratch, as were the clamps holding the foglight rings to the bodywork. Every fastener was re-plated and re-installed in its original location, on the machine. 

     Perhaps the thing I love most about this car, is that it will be DRIVEN. It will not be immediately put up for auction, nor will it hide in a garage, languishing for years. It will be enjoyed. And loved. And flogged. 

   


I'd like to dedicate this post to Mr Walter Spak of Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. Walter specialized in Italian machinery from the 1950s-60s, and was a kind and thoughtful human being. We lost Walt last year and the world is a bit sadder without him. I wish he could have seen and driven this car.

Ferris ain't got nuthin' on me. I get to drive it again today!

I could totally sell the shit out of that shit.

As often happens while driving a boring vehicle down the road, my mind wanders as I start reading the names off the back of various cars on the highway. This morphs its way into a minor fit of ADHD as thoughts clang off the innards of my noggin. I start thinking about the process used to come up with the names of new car models.

How *DO* they figure out what they'll call the next motorized appliance? Here's a few things I picked up that might aid in illuminating my dear readers, and a few thoughts I've added on my own. I figured all I need to do in order to be a successful automotive marketing genius is throw a bunch more hair gel in, wear some metrosexual black T shirts and stop wearing socks with my slip on shoes. Oh...and I have to be completely disconnected from the actual appreciation of automobilia. That's absolutely crucial. 

FIRST: Buy a thesaurus. Look up synonyms for words like "speed", "fast", intimidating", "sexy" and other things we want our cars to be. 

SECOND: Make it a Masculine name. Nobody wants a car named "Muira","Ginetta" or "Fulvia", right? Of course not. Those cars all suck.

THIRD: Get the thesaurus out again. Look up words that promote trustworthy engineering. Words like "precision", "accuracy", "heartiness".

FOURTH: Pick a good country of origin for your imaginary car company. Italy and Germany are good ones. Stay away from tiny Asian or Eastern European countries that get invaded a lot.


FIFTH: Close your eyes and pick up the nearest book written entirely in Latin. Open it up and put your finger on the right side page about 1/3 of the way down. Write down that word. (It doesn't matter what it means, it's not YOUR language after all, right?) Stay away from medical books that discuss things like lung infections and glandular cysts.

SIXTH: Make sure the name ends with a vowel. Words like "turd", "weasel", and "grunt" don't end in vowels... see how this works? Avoidance.

Now.... pick a word from each step. Take three letters from each. Put them together in a random order and make it three words somehow. 

OK I confess. This doesn't really work. I'm just making a point here, ok?

What happens when you don't follow the rules? You end up with names like the "Lamprey Flatus Mk IV" or the "Bowl Clinger 5000".

If all else fails. Pick a city. Name your car after the last native resident kicked out or the first white man to invade it. Never fails. And be sure to mention something patriotic.

So my sideshow has a sideshow!

It's been a busy week! I'm in full speed production mode for a few Art festivals this spring and working out the details on some custom commissioned work.

Here's the latest work as of March 27th:

I had a lot of fun making this one, but almost lost it in the beginning phase.

"Fallen"

For the wine savvy gardener. Stand stakes in to ground or a large planter.

Metalsmith and Jewelry maker Aileen Lampman's presentation concept for the "steel twigs" is brilliant.

To see more of my work, visit
my WEBSITE