Monthly Calendar Report for December 2009
Here it is, AT LONG LAST:
A P-38. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The most dramatic picture of my 2009 Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar: face-on with a P-38 Lightning.
It’s the view a Messerschmitt pilot most feared.
Those four machine-guns and one cannon in the nose would be spitting fire, riddling your Messerschmitt with bullets.
A bullet might puncture a gas-tank, and start a fire; in which case your airplane dropped out of the sky on fire — and if you were lucky, you could get out and parachute to the ground, i.e. you escaped with your life.
This worked both ways.
The Lightning might be in the sights of the Messerschmitt. And the Messerschmitts, being fuel-injected, could execute maneuvers that starved the carbureted American fighters for gas.
The survivability of fighter jockeys was pretty slim. You were as likely to be killed as kill.
The P-38 was an early product of Kelly Johnson, who later founded “Skunk Works” at Lockheed; its Advanced Development Projects.
Everything that came out of Skunk Works seemed to have grace and beauty and speed.
The last I remember is the F-104 Starfighter, the best-looking and fastest of the early supersonic fighter-jets. Although there have been other airplanes since; e.g. the U-2 and the Blackbird SR71.
And his Lockheed Constellation is the most beautiful airplane of all time.
It used the P-38 wing upsized.
Not many P-38s are left, only seven according to my warbirds site.
Compare this to 89 bazilyun P-51 Mustangs (about 150).
I’ve only seen one, pictured at left.
It circled the Geneseo Air Show, and then landed.
The only reason I came was to see that P-38.
I was crestfallen. It looked depressing, badly in need of restoration.
But it was a P-38.
It landed on tricycle landing-gear.
Most airplanes at that time didn’t have that.
They were tail-draggers.
Do that in a Mustang, and its long nose obstructs your forward vision. You have to steer side-to-side to see where you’re going.
What I remember is counter-rotating propellers.
A typical airplane with all its propellers rotating the same way (or a single propeller) has to be trimmed to offset torque-pull to the right or left.
But with two engines (instead of one), the P-38 could rotate one propeller opposite the other; counter-rotating propellers.
This could conceivably be done by -1) setting up one engine to run the reverse of normal, or -2) implementing reverse in the propeller reduction gearing. —I don’t know which.
As the P-38 shut down, I noticed the propellers were rotating in opposite directions.
“Oh yeah, I remember that......”
The P-38 became one of the most glorious fighter-planes of WWII. It had to be called an “interceptor” to be developed, thus skirting the Army Air Corps’ “pursuit” (fighter) requirements allowing only one engine, and limited armament.
The XP-38 had to be flown coast-to-coast for testing, so a speed run was proposed.
The XP-38 set a new speed record — California to New York in seven hours and two minutes — but crash-landed due to carburetor icing.
Controversy continues to fester, calling it little more than a publicity stunt.
The P-38 was superior to what was in the air at that time, but bureaucrats declared it wasn’t a pursuit plane (fighter).
Of interest to me is that nose-mounted armament was more efficient than the wing-mounted armament in a single-engine fighter, which had to be aimed crosswise at a “convergence zone” ahead of the airplane.
If the enemy got out of the convergence zone, a pursuing fighter was wasting ammunition.
With its nose-mounted armament, the P-38 didn’t have that problem.
It could continue to shoot at enemy planes well beyond a convergence zone.
The most dramatic picture Link took. Under the mammoth coaling tower in Shaffer’s Crossing yards west of Roanoke. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
—The December 2009 entry of my O. Winston Link “Steam and Steel” calendar is the most dramatic twilight of steam-locomotion picture he ever took.
Not much of a railfan, Link was depicting the end of an era: the last steam powered railroad in America.
That’s the Norfolk & Western, which stayed with steam for two reasons: -1) It moved rivers of coal, the fuel for steam locomotives, and -2) It had great success developing and building its own steam locomotives designed specifically for its railroad.
The Norfolk & Western was torturous, up-and-down and all over — it crested three mountain ranges. And that’s in the Appalachians; nowhere near as high as the Rockies, but more confined and challenging.
Visible in this picture are three locomotives, two of which are recognizable.
At center is a Y6 2-8-8-2 articulated; compound.
“Compound” means using steam twice.
The boiler charged the rearmost cylinders directly, and spent steam from the rear cylinders worked the front.
It was a principle tried early in the century, but didn’t work well enough for railroads that owned articulated locomotives to stick with it.
Compound articulateds were usually converted to the boiler directly charging both cylinder sets.
But Norfolk & Western made compounding work.
Although its Y6 was more a pusher engine.
Norfolk & Western’s A-class engine (2-6-6-4), which was not a compound, was more over-the-road.
Both engines were stingy with fuel, but an A could boom-and-zoom.
The other engine is the fabulous J-class 4-8-4 passenger locomotive.
In some ways, it’s the best steam locomotive ever built; incredibly powerful and easy rolling.
It had roller-bearings everywhere; even its side-rods. It was heavy, but could be pulled by hand.
But its driving-wheels were only 70-inch — in deference to the railroad’s mountainous profile.
Driving-wheels on most modern steam locomotives were 80 inches in diameter.
Six feet is 72 inches.
80 inch drivers made a man look small.
Railroads usually used smaller drivers to move freight; 69 inches or so. Even smaller to lug up heavy grades. 55 inches were called “pie-plates,” and limited counterweighting, the arc of weights opposite the heavy side-rods.
A side-rod steamer also suffered “dynamic augment;” piston-thrust as the pistons work. You can feel this as a steam-engine accelerates — first one side pulls, and then the opposite. Too much augment and the drivers start spinning. Dynamic augment is why side-rod locomotives can’t handle steep grades; the wheels won’t hold the rail — it’s only wheel-to-railhead adhesion.
Which is why Shay locomotives were developed for logging railroads. They aren’t rod-engines, and can hold the rail in adverse conditions; like steep grades and lousy track.
Counterweighting can offset dynamic augment somewhat, although a 70-inch driver doesn’t allow as much counterweighting as 80-inch.
Still, a J could cruise smoothly at 100+ mph.
To do so at that speed required generous boiler capacity — which the J had in spades.
It was a HUGE boiler, with a HUGE fire grate.
It also had a HUGE firebox combustion chamber that extended well ahead of the grate. This promoted complete fuel burning — ya weren’t throwing unburnt coal out the stack.
Both the A and the Y6 utilized these principles — the Norfolk & Western engine-designers were scientists at this.
But they also developed locomotives specific to their railroad — designed for the torturous profile they had.
Nevertheless, excellent as they were, they were no match for diesel-locomotives. Diesels don’t have dynamic augment; they deliver continuous tractive effort to the railhead.
And diesels don’t need the 89 bazilyun employees required to maintain a steam locomotive; nor do they need so much down-time for testing and certification. —A steam locomotive is a pressure vessel.
Plus a diesel locomotive could run with only one person in the cab. A steam-engine needed both an operator and someone to tend the fire. (Although the train unions resisted only one in the cab.)
And a diesel doesn’t require all the lineside facilities steam locomotives needed; e.g. water-towers.
Yet that massive coaling tower still stands at Shaffer’s Crossing.
It was never taken down.
It’s concrete, and would need a direct hit from a nuclear warhead to remove it.
1949 Ferrari 166/195 MM Berlinetta Touring.
—The December entry of my Oxman Legendary Sportscar Calendar is a blue 1949 Ferrari 166/195 MM Berlinetta Touring.
166/195 because it’s the 166 road car, with a larger 195 engine installed by the factory.
Enzo Ferrari hated doing road cars.
He only did them to support his auto racing.
The 166 Mille Miglia (“MEE-ya MEE-ya”) was one of his earliest efforts, a 166 racer made into a road car.
Only 30 were made (so says this calendar), and they became the darlings of rich European playboy racers.
Apparently the car pictured won the Mille Miglia auto race in 1950.
Its motor is tiny; only two liters.
But it’s a V12.
Most times a motor of two liters displacement is an inline four cylinder, or perhaps an inline six.
But Ferrari was attracted to the V12 engine layout.
He had been swayed by a V12 Packard.
But I’m sure the Packard was much larger.
It’s the Colombo V12 engine, designed by Gioacchino Colombo.
Supposedly the greatest Ferrari engine ever.
166 is the displacement per cylinder, in cubic centimeters.
Essentially this engine design was enlarged later, and produced about 15 years.
This car has some of the marks of a post-war car; like the split two-panel windshield.
But compare that body to a ‘48 Chevy.
The Ferrari looks much better; low and designed for speed.
After college I hoped to some day own a Ferrari.
But -A) Where do I put my dog? -B) Where do I put the groceries? And -C) Where do I stretch it out?
Even looking at this car, I ask the same questions.
Rocket-ship performance is appealing, but I need to get from pillar-to-post.
1934 Ford three-window coupe.
—The December 2009 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a hot-rodded 1934 Ford three-window coupe.
“Three-window” meaning a coupe (two-seater) has only three windows (other than the windshield) as opposed to five.
A five-window coupe has small side-windows behind the door-posts. A three-window doesn’t.
Three or five is the total number of body-windows beside the windshield.
I always preferred three-window.
A ‘40 Ford coupe is five-window. Same year Willys (see Stone-Woods coupe below) is three-window.
I prefer the Willys.
Late ‘40s and early ‘50s Chevy pickup trucks could be three-window or five-window.
But the two extra windows wrapped around the rearmost corners.
(Three-window, please!)
The 1934 Ford was always popular among hot-rodders, I suppose because of its rakish styling, and skirling grille.
The ‘33 had pretty much the same appearance, but compared to the ‘34 was somewhat a turkey.
I myself prefer the ‘32 Ford as a hot-rod. It’s grille is gorgeous; plain and functional, yet attractive.
It’s amazing to think that Ford, despite lack of a styling department, produced some of the greatest looking cars ever.
The ‘34 grille, by comparison, is styled.
So this car isn’t that attractive to me, personally; but comes off fine as a hot-rod.
Best of all is its chopped three-window coupe top.
“Chopping” is to hacksaw 2-4 inches out of the roof posts, etc., and weld everything back together. —This looks like about 3+ inches.
The end result ruins headroom, but looks butch.
I once saw a five-window ‘32 Ford coupe with a chopped top, and ya had to sit on the floor.
Even then the poor occupants had to squeeze in.
They fit like sardines. Their knees were in their faces.
But the car looked great.
A reprise of the yellow Milner coupe in “American Graffiti.”
And this ‘34 is an actual hot-rod; not some rodder’s dream.
It’s a cobbling together of various parts to make a hot-rod.
The engine is ‘49 Cadillac; not a Small-Block Chevy.
The real hot-rods were cobble-jobs; cobbling together various parts to make a hot-rod; e.g. the engine from a wrecked ‘49 Caddy.
The Small-Block Chevy might be a better hot-rod engine; but it wasn’t the Caddy or early ‘50s Buick nail-valve V8s that got shoehorned into early hot-rods.
Or the Oldsmobile Rocket V8.
One nice touch was the use of ‘40s Chevrolet taillights.
They were commonly used, and look great on this car, on the small panel below the trunklid.
The tires are right too; bias-ply from that era. Not some fancy-dan radial from now.
Same with the wheels. Not some glittering chromed mag from southern California.
Two Norfolk Southern Geeps idle in the snowbound Conway yard. (Photo by Kevin Morris.)
—The December 2009 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees calendar is two Norfolk Southern Geeps about to enter the locomotive servicing facility at Conway yard.
A “Geep” is Electromotive Division’s (EMD) four-axle road-switcher, the GP series; “GP” meaning General-Purpose.
Six-axle EMD road-switchers are “SD:” Special-Duty. That’s six traction motors; a Geep has only four.
Electromotive Division is the railroad locomotive division of General Motors, a manifestation of Charles Kettering’s (“Boss Kett”) light-weight two-cycle diesel engine.
Prior to Boss Kett, diesel engines were very heavy and slow.
But Kettering developed a light-weight diesel; large versions of which could be used in railroad locomotives, and smaller versions in trucks or buses.
The Kettering diesel is two-cycle — that is, every down stroke of the piston is a power stroke.
Most gasoline car-engines are four-stroke — i.e. a power stroke is every second down stroke.
Two-stroke gasoline engines are made, but they pollute, because oil has to be mixed in the gasoline. The crankcase is used to charge the cylinder. The crankcase needs oil; and the engine is burning it — plus a lot of gas goes unburnt.
Kettering used mechanical supercharging to blow large quantities of air into the cylinders when the pistons descended enough in the cylinder to expose porting; slots in the cylinder-wall.
The crankcase is separate. That air, though compressed, is ambient — it’s not fuel-charged.
At the same time, poppet-valves were opening in the cylinder-head to allow exhaust gases to escape.
The supercharged air helps blow the exhaust out.
Two-cycle diesel engines are a bit sloppy environmentally.
Most diesel-engines nowadays are four-cycle, with valving like four-cycle gasoline engines.
Even EMD had to develop a four-cycle locomotive engine.
EMD’s diesel locomotives were the best; that is, more reliable than the competition.
They could take abuse.
EMD was dominant for a long time.
Other diesel locomotive manufacturers tanked; Baldwin quite early, and eventually even Alco. Both Baldwin and Alco (American Locomotive Company) had been long-time manufacturers of railroad steam locomotives.
Another railroad diesel locomotive manufacturer that tanked was Fairbanks-Morse, a heavy equipment manufacturer. F-M tried to enter the railroad diesel locomotive market with the submarine engines it had made. —They were locomotive size.
In 1960 General Electric entered the heavy locomotive market with its “Utility” series (“U-boats,” e.g. the U-25B), with significant improvements to EMD concepts — most importantly, a sealed, filtered air-supply.
It was a four-cycle diesel.
GE had previously supplied electrical components to Alco, but then Alco tanked. GE had previously built smaller railroad locomotives, but Alco’s tanking was reason to go for broke.
The “road-switcher” concept became freight road power.
Early freight diesels were just like passenger units, with a full-width body behind the cab; i.e. the same width as the cab.
This made backing difficult; the view backwards was blocked.
A yard-switcher negated this problem by having the body only wide enough to cover the engine. Walkways atop the frame allowed clearer vision around the engine-hood. —The cab was full-width.
But the cab was at one end, so if operated cab-first, it exposed the crew to accidents.
Alco pioneered the road-switcher concept in 1941 with its RS-1, putting a small hood ahead of the cab.
If operated that end first, that short hood protected the crew in accidents.
And the long hood, being not full body width, made backing easy.
EMD responded in 1949 with a road-switcher of its own, the GP-7, essentially the full-width F unit (freight cab unit) mechanicals in a road-switcher layout — 1,500 horsepower.
EMD continued the road-switcher concept with further development, the GP-9 and GP-18, increasing horsepower.
EMD also implemented turbocharging in place of mechanical supercharging; the GP-20. A GP-20 got 2,000 horsepower.
Along the way a cut-down version of the short hood was implemented as an option, that allowed a windshield across the cab.
This increased forward vision, but essentially made the locomotive single-ended.
Most railroads sprang for this, but not all — particularly Southern and Norfolk & Western.
But the locomotive could still operate long-end first, because vision was still adequate.
GE’s U-boat series made EMD do some of the same improvements GE had made; e.g. the sealed, filtered air-supply. That’s the GP-30. But it was only 2,250 horsepower, while the competitor U-25B was 2,500 horsepower.
Later EMD Geeps appeared; the GP-35 and GP-40 (3,000 horsepower, and larger cylinders).
3,000 horsepower was about the limit for a four-axle locomotive — it was all the traction-motors could deliver without spinning.
Four-axle road power became moribund, and six-axle power the norm. Six axles are harder on rail. The center axle wears the railhead, and the axles normally don’t steer — although steering trucks have been developed.
5213 is a GP38-2.
Anything “Dash-2” (“-2”) is updated solid-state electronics, that replaced the antiquated relays and switches first used in diesels.
Dash-2s were introduced in 1972 as an improvement of current models; e.g. the GP-40.
The GP-40 was introduced in 1965, but still had the old electrical controls,
After 1972 it became the GP40-2.
Everything in the EMD catalog became Dash-2.
The GP38-2 is a special model — by request of the railroads.
It’s only 2,000 horsepower, and not turbocharged.
Railroads were a bit miffed at turbocharger maintenance.
Turbochargers are flaky beasts. They operate under incredibly adverse conditions — hot exhaust gases spinning a turbine at incredibly high speed.
Yet everything in the EMD catalog was turbocharged; even the GP-39, supposedly a more pedestrian locomotive, with only a V12 — everything else was V16.
But the GP-39 was turbocharged.
“How about an unturbocharged locomotive?” the railroads asked. “Something we can use in local service, as opposed to the mainline, where horsepower reigns supreme......”
Okay, the GP-38. V16 but not turbocharged. Same mechanical supercharging that was on earlier EMD diesels, but 2,000 horsepower because it has the larger engine.
2,507 were built; a rousing success. 706 GP-38s and 1,801 GP38-2s.
I saw a couple GP38-2s not too long ago.
Many are still in use. They are instantly recognizable by sound; they chuff — a turbocharged engine roars.
“Conway Yard,” west of Pittsburgh, was rebuilt in the ‘50s by the Pennsylvania Railroad as its main marshaling yard.
It became the main Pennsy marshaling yard, replacing Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh”) near Harrisburg.
It’s automated, and could classify 9,000 freight-cars per day.
It was a HUGE investment; and eventually became a linchpin in Conrail, and now Norfolk Southern.
Pennsy merged with arch-rival New York Central as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years.
Penn-Central, and other bankrupt east-coast railroads, was folded into Conrail, at first a public enterprise.
But eventually Conrail went private, and was sold to both CSX Transportation (railroad), and Norfolk Southern.
CSX got mainly the old New York Central lines, and Norfolk Southern the old Pennsy lines.
As such, Conway Yard is now Norfolk Southern.
1970 LS-6 Chevelle™ 454 SuperSport convertible (extremely rare). (Photo by David Newhardt.)
—Supposedly, the car pictured is pretty rare.
According to my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar, approximately only 25 1970 LS-6 Chevelle 454 SuperSport convertibles were made.
The LS-6 was Chevrolet’s attempt to put all other musclecars on-the-trailer.
The LS-5 was more available. But the LS-6 was 450 horsepower (according to the specifications). The LS-5 only got 390 horsepower. —The LS-6 had solid valve-lifters (as opposed to hydraulic), and an extremely high compression-ratio.
My blowhard brother-from-Boston, the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, has a 1971 454 Chevelle SS hardtop, but it’s an LS-5.
But modified so it puts out over 500 horsepower.
He had me drive it once — it was frightening!
Way too much motor in a flimsy old chassis.
My reaction was “people used to street-race these things.”
Its rear axle was solid on springs. —The differential was integral, just like a Model T. Crank some power into it, and it can steer. Torque twists it so that it’s no longer parallel to the chassis.
It quaked and shook with every piston throb.
Beyond that, its heavy cast-iron motor overloaded the front-end. Ya’d plow straight into the weeds.
Of course, ya don’t notice this at cruising speeds, but don’t throw it into a corner.
The “Big-Block” was experimental in 1964.
It was introduced in the 1965 model-year at 396 cubic inches.
It replaced the 348 cubic inch truck engine, but had little relation to it — no relation to the Small-Block.
But it did have ball-stud rockers, which allowed the valves to be splayed almost like a Hemi®.
As first introduced at Daytona Speedway, it was called the “Porcupine Head” because of those splayed valves.
Junior Johnson raced one.
Displacement was enlarged so eventually the Chevrolet “Big Block” was 454 cubic inches.
Crate-motors, for self-installation, are available at 502 and 572 cubic inches.
This is HUGE, but it was also a monster because it breathed extraordinarily well.
So far, the best “musclecar” in this calendar was the 2007 Shelby GT500 pictured at left, the October entry.
That’s 500 horsepower out of a 4.4 liter motor — but supercharged,
I’m sure power output like that would be intimidating, but less so than my brother’s car.
It’s still a solid rear axle, but way better located than a ‘70s musclecar.
It might juke you sideways on bumpy pavement, but it won’t steer you.
Pennsylvania Railroad M1b (4-8-2) Mountain heads freight through Halifax, PA in December of 1953. (Photo by Don Wood©.)
—The December 2009 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is Pennsy M1b Mountain #6750 on the old Susquehanna Division.
The train is en route to Renovo, where it will turn its tonnage over to diesels.
Probably headed for Buffalo.
It’s a Don Wood picture, but not that memorable.
Photographer Don Wood, who died not too long ago, is the main reason for this calendar.
He and Carl Sturner hooked up to produce the first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar in 1966.
They were excellent mountable prints of Wood’s pictures of final steam-locomotive operations on the Pennsylvania Railroad.
My first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar was the second or third.
I mounted many of Wood’s photographs myself, most dramatic of which was two Pennsy Decapods (2-10-0) lugging the heavy Mt. Carmel ore train uphill in the snow (at left).
A giant cloud of steam was thundering out of the locomotives, and it was lit by the sun.
I don’t know if Wood planned it that way, but maybe he did.
In my experience, photography is always a crap-shoot.
I can plan somewhat, but my plans don’t always work.
My best picture at Horseshoe Curve (at left) is somewhat a crap-shoot.
Cassandra Railfan Overlook (below) IS a crap-shoot.
The Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar almost died with Carl Sturner.
There were a couple years it wasn’t published (‘97 and ‘98).
But apparently successors bought Audio-Visual Designs, and brought back the black and white All-Pennsy Calendar.
Audio-Visual Designs also prints color postcards, etc. of railroad topics, mostly locomotives.
They’ve also published books, and railroad Christmas cards.
I’ve never got any cards. They send free samples, and I just pass ‘em out.
The Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar had to go to other photographers. I guess they ran out of Wood photos — and he took a slew.
For a while they were always publishing a color picture for December; e.g. the ex-Conrail Executive E-units painted in Pennsy colors bursting out of the enlarged Allegheny Tunnel.
But no longer. This is the December entry, and it’s not color.
Audio-Visual Designs has also reduced the size of its calendar.
But not much.
They can’t.
But I’ve noticed that recent calendars were a wee bit smaller than previous ones.
The skyrocketing cost of paper is affecting them as much as newspapers.
And not many calendars are printed. They usually sell out.
The snow is what ruins this picture.
That M1b charging out of that blizzard was dramatic, I’m sure, but it’s not that successful as a picture.
Wood took many more-successful pictures, so many I retraced his photo locations years ago.
But things had substantially changed.
Wood’s pictures were in the ‘50s — my visit was 20 years later.
Surroundings that were bucolic in the Wood pictures were all built up.
One of the greatest drag-racers of all time.
I can’t not fly this.
—My Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar, as an addendum, has published photographs of one of the greatest hot-rods of all time, the famed Stone-Woods-Cook Willys drag-racer.
I.e. it’s not a monthly entry.
The Willys had the advantage of being small and light.
It weighed less than the ‘40 Ford coupe, a quintessential hot-rod.
The Ford is five-window — actually six; it had two rear windows.
The Willys is three-window — actually four; it also has a split rear window.
The Ford also had a split two-piece windshield. This car is only one.
This car’s owners (Stone and Woods) surmised a Willys could be a superior drag-racer, since it was light.
They shoehorned a mega-motor into a ‘41 Willys coupe, and started skonking everybody.
Others followed suit. “Big John” Mazmanian stuffed an early Chrysler Hemi V8 into a Willys, and started beating everyone with it.
That’s the car pictured at left.
I never saw the Stone-Woods-Cook Willys race, but did see Mazmanian.
Both burn gasoline, as opposed to “fuel;” alcohol mixed with nitroglycerin. Nitro-Methane; model airplane fuel — extremely explosive.
This is car number two.
The drag-racing sanctioning bodies (the National Hot-Rod Association) allowed fiberglass reproduction bodies, which could make this car lighter still.
The car is probably built from the ground up, and carries that Willys reproduction body as sheathing.
Look at those HUGE rear tires; built to transmit incredible horsepower.
And look at that front axle; a mere tube, just like a slingshot dragster.
It doesn’t even have a radiator; its Hemi is running just like a dragster.
It can run maybe a minute, before it has to shut down.
It was so fast it needed a drag-chute; just like a dragster.
Cars like this were premier until even faster concepts came along; primarily the so-called “funny-cars” — essentially fuel dragsters with fiberglass sheathing that approximated the body of a dealer car, e.g. a Mustang or Firebird.
And “Pro-Stockers,” which still burned gasoline, like the fantastic “Grumpy’s Toy” Vega by Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins, with a Small-Block Chevy.
And the Willys looked so good, I’ve decided if I were to build a hot-rod, I’d build a ‘41 Willys, probably with a Small-Block Chevy.
Especially attractive is that grille-mouth, more modern-looking than a ‘40 Ford coupe; and that it’s three-window, instead of five.
A P-38. (Photo by Philip Makanna©.)
—The most dramatic picture of my 2009 Ghosts WWII warbirds calendar: face-on with a P-38 Lightning.
It’s the view a Messerschmitt pilot most feared.
Those four machine-guns and one cannon in the nose would be spitting fire, riddling your Messerschmitt with bullets.
A bullet might puncture a gas-tank, and start a fire; in which case your airplane dropped out of the sky on fire — and if you were lucky, you could get out and parachute to the ground, i.e. you escaped with your life.
This worked both ways.
The Lightning might be in the sights of the Messerschmitt. And the Messerschmitts, being fuel-injected, could execute maneuvers that starved the carbureted American fighters for gas.
The survivability of fighter jockeys was pretty slim. You were as likely to be killed as kill.
The P-38 was an early product of Kelly Johnson, who later founded “Skunk Works” at Lockheed; its Advanced Development Projects.
Everything that came out of Skunk Works seemed to have grace and beauty and speed.
The last I remember is the F-104 Starfighter, the best-looking and fastest of the early supersonic fighter-jets. Although there have been other airplanes since; e.g. the U-2 and the Blackbird SR71.
And his Lockheed Constellation is the most beautiful airplane of all time.
It used the P-38 wing upsized.
Not many P-38s are left, only seven according to my warbirds site.
Compare this to 89 bazilyun P-51 Mustangs (about 150).
 |
| Photo by BobbaLew, with the Pentax Spotmatic camera. |
| The only P-38 I’ve ever seen. |
It circled the Geneseo Air Show, and then landed.
The only reason I came was to see that P-38.
I was crestfallen. It looked depressing, badly in need of restoration.
But it was a P-38.
It landed on tricycle landing-gear.
Most airplanes at that time didn’t have that.
They were tail-draggers.
Do that in a Mustang, and its long nose obstructs your forward vision. You have to steer side-to-side to see where you’re going.
What I remember is counter-rotating propellers.
A typical airplane with all its propellers rotating the same way (or a single propeller) has to be trimmed to offset torque-pull to the right or left.
But with two engines (instead of one), the P-38 could rotate one propeller opposite the other; counter-rotating propellers.
This could conceivably be done by -1) setting up one engine to run the reverse of normal, or -2) implementing reverse in the propeller reduction gearing. —I don’t know which.
As the P-38 shut down, I noticed the propellers were rotating in opposite directions.
“Oh yeah, I remember that......”
The P-38 became one of the most glorious fighter-planes of WWII. It had to be called an “interceptor” to be developed, thus skirting the Army Air Corps’ “pursuit” (fighter) requirements allowing only one engine, and limited armament.
The XP-38 had to be flown coast-to-coast for testing, so a speed run was proposed.
The XP-38 set a new speed record — California to New York in seven hours and two minutes — but crash-landed due to carburetor icing.
Controversy continues to fester, calling it little more than a publicity stunt.
The P-38 was superior to what was in the air at that time, but bureaucrats declared it wasn’t a pursuit plane (fighter).
Of interest to me is that nose-mounted armament was more efficient than the wing-mounted armament in a single-engine fighter, which had to be aimed crosswise at a “convergence zone” ahead of the airplane.
If the enemy got out of the convergence zone, a pursuing fighter was wasting ammunition.
With its nose-mounted armament, the P-38 didn’t have that problem.
It could continue to shoot at enemy planes well beyond a convergence zone.
The most dramatic picture Link took. Under the mammoth coaling tower in Shaffer’s Crossing yards west of Roanoke. (Photo by O. Winston Link.)
—The December 2009 entry of my O. Winston Link “Steam and Steel” calendar is the most dramatic twilight of steam-locomotion picture he ever took.
Not much of a railfan, Link was depicting the end of an era: the last steam powered railroad in America.
That’s the Norfolk & Western, which stayed with steam for two reasons: -1) It moved rivers of coal, the fuel for steam locomotives, and -2) It had great success developing and building its own steam locomotives designed specifically for its railroad.
The Norfolk & Western was torturous, up-and-down and all over — it crested three mountain ranges. And that’s in the Appalachians; nowhere near as high as the Rockies, but more confined and challenging.
Visible in this picture are three locomotives, two of which are recognizable.
At center is a Y6 2-8-8-2 articulated; compound.
“Compound” means using steam twice.
The boiler charged the rearmost cylinders directly, and spent steam from the rear cylinders worked the front.
It was a principle tried early in the century, but didn’t work well enough for railroads that owned articulated locomotives to stick with it.
Compound articulateds were usually converted to the boiler directly charging both cylinder sets.
But Norfolk & Western made compounding work.
Although its Y6 was more a pusher engine.
Norfolk & Western’s A-class engine (2-6-6-4), which was not a compound, was more over-the-road.
Both engines were stingy with fuel, but an A could boom-and-zoom.
The other engine is the fabulous J-class 4-8-4 passenger locomotive.
In some ways, it’s the best steam locomotive ever built; incredibly powerful and easy rolling.
It had roller-bearings everywhere; even its side-rods. It was heavy, but could be pulled by hand.
But its driving-wheels were only 70-inch — in deference to the railroad’s mountainous profile.
Driving-wheels on most modern steam locomotives were 80 inches in diameter.
Six feet is 72 inches.
80 inch drivers made a man look small.
Railroads usually used smaller drivers to move freight; 69 inches or so. Even smaller to lug up heavy grades. 55 inches were called “pie-plates,” and limited counterweighting, the arc of weights opposite the heavy side-rods.
A side-rod steamer also suffered “dynamic augment;” piston-thrust as the pistons work. You can feel this as a steam-engine accelerates — first one side pulls, and then the opposite. Too much augment and the drivers start spinning. Dynamic augment is why side-rod locomotives can’t handle steep grades; the wheels won’t hold the rail — it’s only wheel-to-railhead adhesion.
Which is why Shay locomotives were developed for logging railroads. They aren’t rod-engines, and can hold the rail in adverse conditions; like steep grades and lousy track.
Counterweighting can offset dynamic augment somewhat, although a 70-inch driver doesn’t allow as much counterweighting as 80-inch.
Still, a J could cruise smoothly at 100+ mph.
To do so at that speed required generous boiler capacity — which the J had in spades.
It was a HUGE boiler, with a HUGE fire grate.
It also had a HUGE firebox combustion chamber that extended well ahead of the grate. This promoted complete fuel burning — ya weren’t throwing unburnt coal out the stack.
Both the A and the Y6 utilized these principles — the Norfolk & Western engine-designers were scientists at this.
But they also developed locomotives specific to their railroad — designed for the torturous profile they had.
Nevertheless, excellent as they were, they were no match for diesel-locomotives. Diesels don’t have dynamic augment; they deliver continuous tractive effort to the railhead.
And diesels don’t need the 89 bazilyun employees required to maintain a steam locomotive; nor do they need so much down-time for testing and certification. —A steam locomotive is a pressure vessel.
Plus a diesel locomotive could run with only one person in the cab. A steam-engine needed both an operator and someone to tend the fire. (Although the train unions resisted only one in the cab.)
And a diesel doesn’t require all the lineside facilities steam locomotives needed; e.g. water-towers.
Yet that massive coaling tower still stands at Shaffer’s Crossing.
It was never taken down.
It’s concrete, and would need a direct hit from a nuclear warhead to remove it.
1949 Ferrari 166/195 MM Berlinetta Touring.
—The December entry of my Oxman Legendary Sportscar Calendar is a blue 1949 Ferrari 166/195 MM Berlinetta Touring.
166/195 because it’s the 166 road car, with a larger 195 engine installed by the factory.
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| Enzo. |
He only did them to support his auto racing.
The 166 Mille Miglia (“MEE-ya MEE-ya”) was one of his earliest efforts, a 166 racer made into a road car.
Only 30 were made (so says this calendar), and they became the darlings of rich European playboy racers.
Apparently the car pictured won the Mille Miglia auto race in 1950.
Its motor is tiny; only two liters.
But it’s a V12.
Most times a motor of two liters displacement is an inline four cylinder, or perhaps an inline six.
But Ferrari was attracted to the V12 engine layout.
He had been swayed by a V12 Packard.
But I’m sure the Packard was much larger.
It’s the Colombo V12 engine, designed by Gioacchino Colombo.
Supposedly the greatest Ferrari engine ever.
166 is the displacement per cylinder, in cubic centimeters.
Essentially this engine design was enlarged later, and produced about 15 years.
This car has some of the marks of a post-war car; like the split two-panel windshield.
But compare that body to a ‘48 Chevy.
The Ferrari looks much better; low and designed for speed.
After college I hoped to some day own a Ferrari.
But -A) Where do I put my dog? -B) Where do I put the groceries? And -C) Where do I stretch it out?
Even looking at this car, I ask the same questions.
Rocket-ship performance is appealing, but I need to get from pillar-to-post.
1934 Ford three-window coupe.
—The December 2009 entry of my Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar is a hot-rodded 1934 Ford three-window coupe.
“Three-window” meaning a coupe (two-seater) has only three windows (other than the windshield) as opposed to five.
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| A five-window Model T coupe. |
Three or five is the total number of body-windows beside the windshield.
I always preferred three-window.
A ‘40 Ford coupe is five-window. Same year Willys (see Stone-Woods coupe below) is three-window.
I prefer the Willys.
Late ‘40s and early ‘50s Chevy pickup trucks could be three-window or five-window.
But the two extra windows wrapped around the rearmost corners.
(Three-window, please!)
The 1934 Ford was always popular among hot-rodders, I suppose because of its rakish styling, and skirling grille.
The ‘33 had pretty much the same appearance, but compared to the ‘34 was somewhat a turkey.
I myself prefer the ‘32 Ford as a hot-rod. It’s grille is gorgeous; plain and functional, yet attractive.
It’s amazing to think that Ford, despite lack of a styling department, produced some of the greatest looking cars ever.
The ‘34 grille, by comparison, is styled.
So this car isn’t that attractive to me, personally; but comes off fine as a hot-rod.
Best of all is its chopped three-window coupe top.
“Chopping” is to hacksaw 2-4 inches out of the roof posts, etc., and weld everything back together. —This looks like about 3+ inches.
The end result ruins headroom, but looks butch.
I once saw a five-window ‘32 Ford coupe with a chopped top, and ya had to sit on the floor.
Even then the poor occupants had to squeeze in.
They fit like sardines. Their knees were in their faces.
But the car looked great.
A reprise of the yellow Milner coupe in “American Graffiti.”
And this ‘34 is an actual hot-rod; not some rodder’s dream.
It’s a cobbling together of various parts to make a hot-rod.
The engine is ‘49 Cadillac; not a Small-Block Chevy.
The real hot-rods were cobble-jobs; cobbling together various parts to make a hot-rod; e.g. the engine from a wrecked ‘49 Caddy.
The Small-Block Chevy might be a better hot-rod engine; but it wasn’t the Caddy or early ‘50s Buick nail-valve V8s that got shoehorned into early hot-rods.
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| Note ‘40s Chevrolet taillights. |
One nice touch was the use of ‘40s Chevrolet taillights.
They were commonly used, and look great on this car, on the small panel below the trunklid.
The tires are right too; bias-ply from that era. Not some fancy-dan radial from now.
Same with the wheels. Not some glittering chromed mag from southern California.
Two Norfolk Southern Geeps idle in the snowbound Conway yard. (Photo by Kevin Morris.)
—The December 2009 entry of my Norfolk Southern Employees calendar is two Norfolk Southern Geeps about to enter the locomotive servicing facility at Conway yard.
A “Geep” is Electromotive Division’s (EMD) four-axle road-switcher, the GP series; “GP” meaning General-Purpose.
Six-axle EMD road-switchers are “SD:” Special-Duty. That’s six traction motors; a Geep has only four.
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| An SD-9 (six axles; six traction motors). |
Prior to Boss Kett, diesel engines were very heavy and slow.
But Kettering developed a light-weight diesel; large versions of which could be used in railroad locomotives, and smaller versions in trucks or buses.
The Kettering diesel is two-cycle — that is, every down stroke of the piston is a power stroke.
Most gasoline car-engines are four-stroke — i.e. a power stroke is every second down stroke.
Two-stroke gasoline engines are made, but they pollute, because oil has to be mixed in the gasoline. The crankcase is used to charge the cylinder. The crankcase needs oil; and the engine is burning it — plus a lot of gas goes unburnt.
Kettering used mechanical supercharging to blow large quantities of air into the cylinders when the pistons descended enough in the cylinder to expose porting; slots in the cylinder-wall.
The crankcase is separate. That air, though compressed, is ambient — it’s not fuel-charged.
At the same time, poppet-valves were opening in the cylinder-head to allow exhaust gases to escape.
The supercharged air helps blow the exhaust out.
Two-cycle diesel engines are a bit sloppy environmentally.
Most diesel-engines nowadays are four-cycle, with valving like four-cycle gasoline engines.
Even EMD had to develop a four-cycle locomotive engine.
EMD’s diesel locomotives were the best; that is, more reliable than the competition.
They could take abuse.
EMD was dominant for a long time.
Other diesel locomotive manufacturers tanked; Baldwin quite early, and eventually even Alco. Both Baldwin and Alco (American Locomotive Company) had been long-time manufacturers of railroad steam locomotives.
Another railroad diesel locomotive manufacturer that tanked was Fairbanks-Morse, a heavy equipment manufacturer. F-M tried to enter the railroad diesel locomotive market with the submarine engines it had made. —They were locomotive size.
In 1960 General Electric entered the heavy locomotive market with its “Utility” series (“U-boats,” e.g. the U-25B), with significant improvements to EMD concepts — most importantly, a sealed, filtered air-supply.
It was a four-cycle diesel.
GE had previously supplied electrical components to Alco, but then Alco tanked. GE had previously built smaller railroad locomotives, but Alco’s tanking was reason to go for broke.
The “road-switcher” concept became freight road power.
Early freight diesels were just like passenger units, with a full-width body behind the cab; i.e. the same width as the cab.
This made backing difficult; the view backwards was blocked.
A yard-switcher negated this problem by having the body only wide enough to cover the engine. Walkways atop the frame allowed clearer vision around the engine-hood. —The cab was full-width.
But the cab was at one end, so if operated cab-first, it exposed the crew to accidents.
Alco pioneered the road-switcher concept in 1941 with its RS-1, putting a small hood ahead of the cab.
If operated that end first, that short hood protected the crew in accidents.
And the long hood, being not full body width, made backing easy.
EMD responded in 1949 with a road-switcher of its own, the GP-7, essentially the full-width F unit (freight cab unit) mechanicals in a road-switcher layout — 1,500 horsepower.
EMD continued the road-switcher concept with further development, the GP-9 and GP-18, increasing horsepower.
EMD also implemented turbocharging in place of mechanical supercharging; the GP-20. A GP-20 got 2,000 horsepower.
Along the way a cut-down version of the short hood was implemented as an option, that allowed a windshield across the cab.
This increased forward vision, but essentially made the locomotive single-ended.
Most railroads sprang for this, but not all — particularly Southern and Norfolk & Western.
But the locomotive could still operate long-end first, because vision was still adequate.
GE’s U-boat series made EMD do some of the same improvements GE had made; e.g. the sealed, filtered air-supply. That’s the GP-30. But it was only 2,250 horsepower, while the competitor U-25B was 2,500 horsepower.
Later EMD Geeps appeared; the GP-35 and GP-40 (3,000 horsepower, and larger cylinders).
3,000 horsepower was about the limit for a four-axle locomotive — it was all the traction-motors could deliver without spinning.
Four-axle road power became moribund, and six-axle power the norm. Six axles are harder on rail. The center axle wears the railhead, and the axles normally don’t steer — although steering trucks have been developed.
5213 is a GP38-2.
Anything “Dash-2” (“-2”) is updated solid-state electronics, that replaced the antiquated relays and switches first used in diesels.
Dash-2s were introduced in 1972 as an improvement of current models; e.g. the GP-40.
The GP-40 was introduced in 1965, but still had the old electrical controls,
After 1972 it became the GP40-2.
Everything in the EMD catalog became Dash-2.
The GP38-2 is a special model — by request of the railroads.
It’s only 2,000 horsepower, and not turbocharged.
Railroads were a bit miffed at turbocharger maintenance.
Turbochargers are flaky beasts. They operate under incredibly adverse conditions — hot exhaust gases spinning a turbine at incredibly high speed.
Yet everything in the EMD catalog was turbocharged; even the GP-39, supposedly a more pedestrian locomotive, with only a V12 — everything else was V16.
But the GP-39 was turbocharged.
“How about an unturbocharged locomotive?” the railroads asked. “Something we can use in local service, as opposed to the mainline, where horsepower reigns supreme......”
Okay, the GP-38. V16 but not turbocharged. Same mechanical supercharging that was on earlier EMD diesels, but 2,000 horsepower because it has the larger engine.
2,507 were built; a rousing success. 706 GP-38s and 1,801 GP38-2s.
I saw a couple GP38-2s not too long ago.
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| Chuffa-chuffa-chuffa-chuffa (Norfolk Southern GP38-2s on a local freight south of Tyrone, PA on the old Pennsy main). |
“Conway Yard,” west of Pittsburgh, was rebuilt in the ‘50s by the Pennsylvania Railroad as its main marshaling yard.
It became the main Pennsy marshaling yard, replacing Enola (“aye-NOLE-uh”) near Harrisburg.
It’s automated, and could classify 9,000 freight-cars per day.
It was a HUGE investment; and eventually became a linchpin in Conrail, and now Norfolk Southern.
Pennsy merged with arch-rival New York Central as Penn-Central, and that tanked in about eight years.
Penn-Central, and other bankrupt east-coast railroads, was folded into Conrail, at first a public enterprise.
But eventually Conrail went private, and was sold to both CSX Transportation (railroad), and Norfolk Southern.
CSX got mainly the old New York Central lines, and Norfolk Southern the old Pennsy lines.
As such, Conway Yard is now Norfolk Southern.
1970 LS-6 Chevelle™ 454 SuperSport convertible (extremely rare). (Photo by David Newhardt.)
—Supposedly, the car pictured is pretty rare.
According to my Motorbooks Musclecars calendar, approximately only 25 1970 LS-6 Chevelle 454 SuperSport convertibles were made.
The LS-6 was Chevrolet’s attempt to put all other musclecars on-the-trailer.
The LS-5 was more available. But the LS-6 was 450 horsepower (according to the specifications). The LS-5 only got 390 horsepower. —The LS-6 had solid valve-lifters (as opposed to hydraulic), and an extremely high compression-ratio.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| Not my brother’s car, but identical. |
But modified so it puts out over 500 horsepower.
He had me drive it once — it was frightening!
Way too much motor in a flimsy old chassis.
My reaction was “people used to street-race these things.”
Its rear axle was solid on springs. —The differential was integral, just like a Model T. Crank some power into it, and it can steer. Torque twists it so that it’s no longer parallel to the chassis.
It quaked and shook with every piston throb.
Beyond that, its heavy cast-iron motor overloaded the front-end. Ya’d plow straight into the weeds.
Of course, ya don’t notice this at cruising speeds, but don’t throw it into a corner.
The “Big-Block” was experimental in 1964.
It was introduced in the 1965 model-year at 396 cubic inches.
It replaced the 348 cubic inch truck engine, but had little relation to it — no relation to the Small-Block.
But it did have ball-stud rockers, which allowed the valves to be splayed almost like a Hemi®.
As first introduced at Daytona Speedway, it was called the “Porcupine Head” because of those splayed valves.
Junior Johnson raced one.
Displacement was enlarged so eventually the Chevrolet “Big Block” was 454 cubic inches.
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| Photo by David Newhardt. |
| A 2007 Shelby GT500 Mustang. |
This is HUGE, but it was also a monster because it breathed extraordinarily well.
So far, the best “musclecar” in this calendar was the 2007 Shelby GT500 pictured at left, the October entry.
That’s 500 horsepower out of a 4.4 liter motor — but supercharged,
I’m sure power output like that would be intimidating, but less so than my brother’s car.
It’s still a solid rear axle, but way better located than a ‘70s musclecar.
It might juke you sideways on bumpy pavement, but it won’t steer you.
Pennsylvania Railroad M1b (4-8-2) Mountain heads freight through Halifax, PA in December of 1953. (Photo by Don Wood©.)
—The December 2009 entry of my Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar is Pennsy M1b Mountain #6750 on the old Susquehanna Division.
The train is en route to Renovo, where it will turn its tonnage over to diesels.
Probably headed for Buffalo.
It’s a Don Wood picture, but not that memorable.
Photographer Don Wood, who died not too long ago, is the main reason for this calendar.
He and Carl Sturner hooked up to produce the first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar in 1966.
They were excellent mountable prints of Wood’s pictures of final steam-locomotive operations on the Pennsylvania Railroad.
My first Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar was the second or third.
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| Photo by Don Wood©. |
| The best one he shot. |
A giant cloud of steam was thundering out of the locomotives, and it was lit by the sun.
I don’t know if Wood planned it that way, but maybe he did.
In my experience, photography is always a crap-shoot.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| There is nothing, NOTHING like the mighty Curve. |
My best picture at Horseshoe Curve (at left) is somewhat a crap-shoot.
Cassandra Railfan Overlook (below) IS a crap-shoot.
The Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar almost died with Carl Sturner.
There were a couple years it wasn’t published (‘97 and ‘98).
But apparently successors bought Audio-Visual Designs, and brought back the black and white All-Pennsy Calendar.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| Upgrade on Track One at Cassandra Railfan Overlook. |
They’ve also published books, and railroad Christmas cards.
I’ve never got any cards. They send free samples, and I just pass ‘em out.
The Audio-Visual Designs black and white All-Pennsy Calendar had to go to other photographers. I guess they ran out of Wood photos — and he took a slew.
For a while they were always publishing a color picture for December; e.g. the ex-Conrail Executive E-units painted in Pennsy colors bursting out of the enlarged Allegheny Tunnel.
But no longer. This is the December entry, and it’s not color.
Audio-Visual Designs has also reduced the size of its calendar.
But not much.
They can’t.
But I’ve noticed that recent calendars were a wee bit smaller than previous ones.
The skyrocketing cost of paper is affecting them as much as newspapers.
And not many calendars are printed. They usually sell out.
The snow is what ruins this picture.
That M1b charging out of that blizzard was dramatic, I’m sure, but it’s not that successful as a picture.
Wood took many more-successful pictures, so many I retraced his photo locations years ago.
But things had substantially changed.
Wood’s pictures were in the ‘50s — my visit was 20 years later.
Surroundings that were bucolic in the Wood pictures were all built up.
One of the greatest drag-racers of all time.
I can’t not fly this.
—My Oxman Hot-Rod Calendar, as an addendum, has published photographs of one of the greatest hot-rods of all time, the famed Stone-Woods-Cook Willys drag-racer.
I.e. it’s not a monthly entry.
The Willys had the advantage of being small and light.
It weighed less than the ‘40 Ford coupe, a quintessential hot-rod.
The Ford is five-window — actually six; it had two rear windows.
The Willys is three-window — actually four; it also has a split rear window.
The Ford also had a split two-piece windshield. This car is only one.
This car’s owners (Stone and Woods) surmised a Willys could be a superior drag-racer, since it was light.
They shoehorned a mega-motor into a ‘41 Willys coupe, and started skonking everybody.
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| Photo by BobbaLew. |
| The “Big John” Mazmanian Willys coupe at Cecil County Drag-o-way in the middle ‘60s. |
That’s the car pictured at left.
I never saw the Stone-Woods-Cook Willys race, but did see Mazmanian.
Both burn gasoline, as opposed to “fuel;” alcohol mixed with nitroglycerin. Nitro-Methane; model airplane fuel — extremely explosive.
This is car number two.
The drag-racing sanctioning bodies (the National Hot-Rod Association) allowed fiberglass reproduction bodies, which could make this car lighter still.
The car is probably built from the ground up, and carries that Willys reproduction body as sheathing.
Look at those HUGE rear tires; built to transmit incredible horsepower.
And look at that front axle; a mere tube, just like a slingshot dragster.
It doesn’t even have a radiator; its Hemi is running just like a dragster.
It can run maybe a minute, before it has to shut down.
It was so fast it needed a drag-chute; just like a dragster.
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| “Grumpy’s Toy.” |
And “Pro-Stockers,” which still burned gasoline, like the fantastic “Grumpy’s Toy” Vega by Bill “Grumpy” Jenkins, with a Small-Block Chevy.
And the Willys looked so good, I’ve decided if I were to build a hot-rod, I’d build a ‘41 Willys, probably with a Small-Block Chevy.
Especially attractive is that grille-mouth, more modern-looking than a ‘40 Ford coupe; and that it’s three-window, instead of five.
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