Racing a Lead Sled.

I was settin at a light when to my delight, a bright red 49 Merc pull up to the right. Well we bugged each other as we sat out that light and both of us knew we would race till broad daylight or until something blew - and I thought it over, now wouldn’t you. When that light turned green you should of heard our screamin’ machines.- the smoke and the roar, with our feet to the floor.  

Through first, second, and into third even he stayed with my little Bird.  As I dropped into high I felt like that old Firebird would takeoff and fly. Now that old Merc I wasa leaven behind and I didn’t mind – in fact I thought it was just fine.  At a hundred and forty I was near top end coming up on an easy bend.

But now that Merc was ready to play and there isn’t any more left to say about when the Ford and my Bird went to play.  He blew by me so amazingly fast I knew right then and there that I would be last.  This aint no lie – I swear, that old geezer’s sedan could really fly.  

As he disappeared into the night – man what a fright, when I couldn’t even see his French tail lights. It was embarrassing for me and not so neat, that I should be beat.  If on the street you happen to meet this little old man in his ride so sweet – that old red Lead Sled will put you to bed, so think twice before you compete, unless you like to be beat.


Peace to you all this night and always. I pray your New Year will be bright.

Milt  

Great poem Milt,,, my first car was a 50 Merc. I got it with shaved hood and trunk lid, but the tranny was shot.
My dad stuffed a 324 Olds with 4 speed hydro in there (I helped) and it was a fast ride in it's day,,, 0 to 60 in under 10 seconds, the year was 1962.

 
When The Flag Drops,,,



The Bull Chit Stops,,,


P. Engineer, Engine Builder

Ho Ho Ho- great stuff, Milt. Gotta watch out for the ones with white hair, they know things!

Heres a pic of the model "lead sled" I did for my Dad at Christmas 2007. Its painted the same color as my avatar
 

Pontiac ain't never gonna win when the other guy has reindeer under the hood.  

Those old cars were really pretty neat and even neater when its your first one.

Idrive - Nice job  

Hey Mr.Milt that little dide brings back some memories here too. My buddy in HS, 1964, had a powder blue 50 Merc with suiside back doors with tuck and rolled blue and white interior. He got tired of blowen up flat heads and rear ends. We found a 63 Riv, 425 nail head with 2 4s in the junk yard. We rounded up and bell housing and clutch ,a Hurst shifted T-10 for the combo and an Olds rear. Talk about fly that lead sled would Get'er Done.  

Yeah Milt, ya don't mess with Santa - he's in a severe hurry, can't blame him.  

Another year has past and we have some new friends on the site this year so I thought I would bring this post back for another round.  We have lost some people too, and that is sad, and my thoughts are with them and all of you this Holiday Season.

Peace be with you and your families!

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Milt  

Twas the night before Christmas

and all thru the SHOP..................





                    Finish it guys  

... not a crankshaft was turning. You could hear a valve drop. All the gas tanks were open and venting to air ...  

...in hopes that my Pontiac
still would be there.....  

Oh yes, oh yes fella's, the little Firebird is still around. Milt didn't fill you in on the "rest of the story."

Garlic Farmer was the old man's name. The little Firebird hung out in his barn for, umm......ten, what would you say Milt? 15 some odd years? That little red Fire Engine (That's what folk's used to call her because the carburetor would catch fire whenever you started her up). Those in the know called it "toorichsyndrome," but friends who didn't care about her bad gas just called her Birdy. Yeah, 100+ but ya had to love her.

Old Man Farmer wimpered in private, remembering his days of eating ricers with Birdy - bowties, Oldsmoldy's, Bucks, Kadellics, Furwarreees, and Ed BIG DADDY ROTH's for lunch. And finish off dessert with a salmon burger (OMF was strange that way). Him and Birdy.

Old Man Farmer had a nighttime ritual.

First he would wake from a perfectly good dream and stare at the light that he THOUGHT he saw coming from the barn, and the sound of an engine trying to turn.

Back to sleep. Light on, smell of varnish. WHAT'S THAT!!! said Garlic -  "I know I didn't see what I thought I didn't see....did I? Definitely a light in the barn....

Meanwhile out in the barn, Horse Ed and Birdy were having their usual late night conversation. You know how it is when you get a bunch of durn gearhead Knights in one palace trying to be normal. To much ironworks.

CLANKCLANKCLANKCLANKs’cuseme,noprobCLANKCLANKpassthatthanksnoprobwhat'sthat dunnoprobablythelongarmofthelaw.......Ignore that man behind the curtain.

So, by this time, Farmer has had enough. He gets his lantern, he gets his luger, he gets his crossbar, he shines his couger. He largely walks out, slowly to the barn, all the while keeping his well trained eyes on the door, because if you leave your front door open, sure as the world, there's gonna be a booger come a callin’.

Old Man Farmer was a special breed of man, he went through some spit in life, always came out on top. Should‘a seen his girlfriend. Hang me up sideways, this girl was fine. Trim, Chrome, the whole shebang. But his galfriend was a jealous sort, never could quite come to terms with Birdy. She felt Birdy was a threat in some way that only a grease monkey would be unable to explain. She Cut Birdy’s fuel line – Birdy didn’t like that – Birdy did not like that.

Farmer had gotten to his limit. He thinks “I’m gonna ‘vestigate" So he pulls on his drawers, lights his wick, and stealthfully ventures out into the night.

In the distance, Farmer McFarmer sees a faint yellowish light blinking on and off from the barn. He approaches and hears the soft sound of what he thinks is someone very delicately attempting to steal a car in the night. The motor gently turns over and slows down to a crawl.  Farmer gazes through the window and sees Horse Ed reading to Birdy all about horsepower. “Is that what I really need Ed?” “Yes Birdy, and I can probably work on your rear end”…..”No, that’s ok Ed, my 3:08 is just fine.”   “Awwww come on Birdy, I’m just trying to get you back in Uncle Farmers good graces. “Birdy, you’d best understand that old Farmer got a bad back so it's up to us to get that ole 400 back in shape."  

“Birdy, just spit, poot, flex your muscles, shoot out that rainwater, turn your blood to fresh honey, let that other red blood flow through your mid section, massage your sprague, make sure your Flintstone brake reservoir is full, turn that Quad a quarter turn to the left, take the hose off the vacuum advance first, (yes, ya plug the end you took off, I’d do that for you but I’ve only got a hoof, someone just pitched my shoe”) said Ed.

Although Horse Ed and Mister Farm didn’t fully appreciate Birdy, she was one bird who refused to be caged, and wasn’t going to be left behind…..then she met Mr. Milt who took her to the next page….. Yes, she's the little bird who could.  

oh yeah, and mary christmas, ya'll are without a doubt the best.

 

Brazil, how much lead did you put in you're sled, you should just stick to 93 high test.  Kind of reminds me of Alice in psycholand.    
  Get writing on that Novella, you'll make a killing.    -T  

.....when out in the street came an awful squeal