Hooked on classics

Back in the day there was a used book store on Quebec Street in Guelph, right by the alley that separated it from the Woolworths store.  The old bag who ran it had a steady clientele of aging perverts trading in their pervert magazines. She also recycled textbooks and novels and virtually every embodiment of the printed word that you could imagine.

Including car magazines. Car Craft, Hot Rod, Car and Driver... you name it, they were all there for a quarter of the cover price, and often not more than a month or two old.

The old bag had an inherent suspicion of anyone walking into the store not wearing a trench coat and a week of stubble. She'd be sitting behind a pile of books at her desk, chain-smoking unfiltered cigarettes and doling out toxic stink-eye to young customers like me.

One day I left her store clutching a new purchase that had a 1966 Comet  Cyclone on the cover. As I blinked my way into the sunlit street I suddenly froze; there in front of me was a 1966 Comet Cyclone!

Red with a black vinyl roof. Twin scoops. 390 cubes under the hood.

And it was running! An empty car just sitting there, its rumpa rumpa rumpa idle making my hair stand up. What a moment!

That was still a couple of years before I was a legal licensed driver. When I hit that age I was shopping for cars that had the rumpa idle. I was working at John's Supertest at the time. The Leader boys at the Gulf station down the road had a couple of cars for sale.

A 65 Chevelle and a 64 Chevy II.

The Chevelle was out of my price range, but I figured I could manage the cost of the Chevy II. It was a 283 four speed and it went like stink. I hemmed and I hawed and by the time I got around to making a decision it was sold.

To Kipling.

I made do with lesser cars for awhile, all the time keeping an eye out for the right purchase. I almost had a 413 Dodge but Earl Vollet beat me to the bank. Finally I gave up and factory ordered a brand new 340 Plymouth Duster.

That was the first of a run of 340's. My Mopar string was occasionally interrupted. Once by a 348 Pontiac convertible with a four speed. By a 1967 Impala SS with a 327 and powerglide. By a 1973 SD 455 Trans Am.

Kipling meanwhile went from strength to strength. From that Chevy II to a big-block Cuda to a big block Chevelle that had been on the SS/D drag racing circuit the year before, and then that hemi Charger.

Other friends had other classics. Barney had not one but two 396/375 Novas. One was a no option bench seat four speed with 4:56 gears in the back. The other was an automatic. Power steering, vinyl roof, black on burgundy.

Johnny had a Super-bee with a full race 383. Kenny had a 327 Chevy II that could outrun any 340 Mopar in town in the quarter.

The quarter mile we ran on most was out on the Highway 86, right in front of my house. That was the favored local dragstrip from the time my parents moved there in 1967. A typical meet in the late sixties involved dozens of cars, hundreds of spectators, look-outs with walkie-talkies.

A guy named Rinehart lived one concession over and had a 68 Mustang with a 427 side-oiler. He had a couple of younger brothers who were making a name for themselves in local hockey circles. One of them eventually became a big deal in the NHL.

Rinehart used to run on the 86 with open headers. Rumor had it the car had been on the NHRA Super Stock circuit the year before. I could hear his car from the moment he fired it up a concession away. That was a low 11 second car - maybe even high tens.

The racing would go on until the OPP arrived.

Alas, times changed. Some of the drag racing guys got into the drug dealing culture.

Most of them got into the family & jobs & mortgage culture.

Fast cars went away.

When I stick my foot in the Mustang fifty today I can only leave it there for a few seconds. 100mph comes up much too fast, and I have no desire to go any faster.

You can go to your local Subaru dealer today and buy a new Subaru that will beat most of those old school muscle cars in the quarter mile.

But it totally won't give you that rumpa rumpa big block idle that made your hair stand up back in 1966.