Steve Caballero's Coupe

Steve Caballero's old model A, built by Steve and Alex Gambino. This is just one of those hot rods that looks fun as hell to drive.

Salinas Olympic Coupe

The funny thing about this pic is it sucks. No matter, though, the car speaks for itself.

I'd only seen the Cole Foster built '36 Ford for Kirk Hammet in pics on the internet and in magazines. When I came across it a few years back at the Hot Rod Reunion in Bakersfield, it wasn't in display in the car corral with the other cars. I had jokingly asked a friend if the car was ever going to show again and he told me, "It's here."

It was in the pits with the trailers and vendors, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. I don't recall staring at a car as long as I stared at the Salinas Olympic Coupe. The lines are pure perfection. That's saying a lot as '36 Fords are perfect from the factory, yet somehow, Cole topped perfection.

'53 Chevy

This '53 Chevy has always been a favorite of mine. Once owned by Todd Gravelle of Salinas Boyz fame, later by Rob Fortier, it has an early '50's vibe, a heavy, yet stylish chop (a roof swap from a '49-52 Chevy sedan, so I'm told), and one of the best tail-light treatments ever!

Pic of the Day

I'm starting something new for Suffocation Nation, a pic of the day post. The main reason is to go through some of my old stuff that I may have forgotten about or some of my favorites and bring them to light again. Some may be historical cars, some of great importance within our culture, or some that are just cool. I'm sure this idea will evolve, so watch for updates and send me some feedback on what you like.

The Sam Barris Merc is going to start us off. This car is an obvious choice for me as it's probably the most historic custom of it's time. It's widely regarded as the first chopped Mercury (although many debate the Quesnel Merc was chopped first), but that's not why I'm putting it up here. This photo represents something more. The restoration of the car was completed by Brizio's shop just in time for the West Coast Kustoms show in Paso Robles, 2007. The Daryl Hollenbeck paint-job was so fresh the vapors could be smelled when approaching the car and the tail-lights and interior had yet to be installed. This was one of the greatest moments in recent custom history as the younger generations had the opportunity to see what started it all, yet it was also one of the worst as it marked the last Paso. The show has continued in Santa Maria, but much of what made Paso special is gone forever.

So take a close look at this picture, marvel the profile of this beautiful 1949 Mercury and the mile-deep paint, but also check out the background....the Paso Robles Inn and the people tell a story as well.

Bring The Noise

Or don't.

My new Canon 40D in action at the 2010 California Hot Rod Reunion...







I definitely could put a macro and a better zoom lens to work, but I'm pretty stoked with how these turned out.

Full coverage from the event coming later this week.

Payback

"Their solutions are our problems..."

"They take away our freedom, in the name of liberty..."

"They make us feel indebted, for saving us from hell. And then they put us through it....it's time the bastards fell!..."

"...don't be bitten twice..."

- S.L.F.

I Hate My Car

Well, not exactly...I hate it in it's current state.

Something happens when you put paint or primer on a car. It's not just that the highs and lows show up, it's that it starts to become the sum of it's parts. A whole.

No longer are the new tail lights a focal point. The bare metal spots cease to be noteworthy repairs. The chopped top doesn't stand out. The frenched headlights just become part of the fenders. All of this fine, in fact it's the point we builders strive for, but it all had better work. And the color better be right, which in the case of this '51 Chevy, it is not.

I made this realization after we sprayed it that late Wednesday night before the show in Santa Maria. Yesterday I made the realization why.

Cole Foster, famed custom, hotrod, and motorcycle builder, wrote something several years ago that stuck with me, "...customs are spooky bad guy cars."

Here it is, April, 2010...


May, 2010 at Santa Maria...





Spooky it is not. The words that come to mind are safe, industrial, nice, and innocent. Yeah, no. It must be dark.

More from Cole, "...and dosent make me want to build cars to please the masses, or I would build some tangerine double bubbled fagsled, it makes me want to park them across the street from the show. I had a great time, saw my friends, show was steller and even got a 2 dollar trophy, not bad."

That basically summed up my weekend at the show, minus the trophy.

Aaron's Tank

Check out these pics of Aaron's new tank...






Props to Blue Moon Kustoms for this bad-ass layout and flake-job. Can you imagine how many layers of tape this took?? This bike is gonna rule.

Nutrition

Ecouraged to gorge on a diet high in virtual relationships, fortified with 9 non-essentail vitamins and irony, I find myself drowning in the sea of anti-social networking.

My Lunch

I was supposed to take my friend Max to lunch for his birthday today. Max decided to go run some errands rather than take me up on my offer, so I decided to treat myself to Subway at the corner of Stockton and Broadway.

Now I've been to this place several times before and I'm usually pretty good at ignoring the gangsters and beggars that seem to buzz around this area. Today was a little different. A homeless black woman in her fifties walked up to my truck as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. Her attire was inappropriate for the temperate 75 degree weather we've been having in Sacramento, a dirty wool coat, long shorts, and what looked like someone's discarded house slippers. She delivered the typical request, "Got any change."
And I responded with my usual, "I don't have any money."
I guess I've thought about this scenario quite a bit, and I've come up with a retort that I believe garners the least amount of additional interaction with the subject.

Today my response worked. But as the old lady sauntered off, I wondered when she had last had something to eat. Even if she was just scrounging for enough change to buy a cheap bottle of vodka or King Cobra, she still required sustenance. And how did I know what she was going to use the money for, it's not like she'd tell me the truth if I asked? You see, I have these things figured out.

Anyhow, I went against my better judgment and caught up to the lady and asked if I could buy her a sandwich instead. Without skipping a beat, she motioned toward the Jack In the Box across the street and said, "I'd rather have a burger." Now I know how bad fast food burgers are for the human body, which is precisely why I was at Subway in the first place. I told her to take it or leave it.

As we waited in the long line, I played the 2- questions game of determining just what kind of sandwich to order for my guest. While I pegged her for the meatball sub type, she started off with a request for pastrami and ended up, after several direction changes, deciding on the Italian BMT (Big Meaty Trio, or something lame like that). "It's like a drink," she said, "You've gotta try something new." Whatever.

She was fine with the standard fare, mustard, mayo, lettuce tomato, onion, and of course, green and black olives. "You know, the green ones with the red inside," she requested.
"They don't have green olives at Subway," I said, "just black ones."

"Fine, I'll have the black ones with the red inside," she quipped. Dammit! This is the point where I started questioning this act of charity. I asked the lady to take a seat and told her I'd bring her the sandwich.

The other patrons were finding this whole ordeal a bit humorous. Some stared inquisitively.
I prayed that the line would move faster and that there wasn't someone breaking into my truck in the parking lot while I waited.

As I finally reached the point of placing my order, the lady got up from her seat at came up to me again. "Will you buy me a soda too?", she asked.
Now I can appreciate the relationship of a tasty beverage to a footlong, but I wasn't buying myself a soda as I've been trying to cut back, so I told her I'd get her a water. She huffed and disappeared back to the area where she'd been sitting.
Of course the lady ringing me up said, "Oooo, an Italian BMT, would you like to make that a meal with chips and a drink?"
I managed not to ad the F word to my response and she quickly bagged the two sandwiches. As I pulled out the BMT and walked it over to the lady, I wondered to myself if she was just going to go to the corner and pander it for cash. I handed her the sandwich to which she instantly said, "I guess I'll get my own bag."
Stunned, I said, " You're WELCOME.".
Out of obligation, she did manage to thank me as she walked out the door, sandwich bag in one hand, water in another. Her lazy eye was distracting, but her smile was distinct.