Battlefields and Hot Oil
 

Friday evening, finished up polishing the fins on my Holman Moody valve covers, all spiffy looking, and put them back on with my expensive ($50!) Moroso gaskets. Nothing but the best for the Great Stroker. I had bought this big Baldor buffing system, and had to try it out.

Put my clothes out in the kitchen, so when i got dressed about 0530 Sat Am, wouldn't wake the Wife. Crept out into the garage, ran the door up, scruffed up my Loyal Weimeraner, and shoved the nose of the SPF, and rolled it out under the stars, onto the concrete. I never start it in the garage, the exhaust about makes Abby croak, so i show respect for her, and crank it outside. Put the Flag out, and hopped in, top on because it was mid 40's, latched up, and had no spark, no nuthin'. Of course, had forgotten to turn the master switch back on, i always turn it off whenever i work on my car. Climbed back out, turned it on, crawled back in, spilt my Diet Coke, lost my glasses in the dark recess of the footwell, but eventually, oil pressure up, lit it off.

Away i went, gassing under the neon of the Exon, and then out on HW 5, a typical rural Upcountry SC road. One that no doubt follows some old indian trading trail, over hill and dale, curving, with the trees right up next to the road. SC has the highest rate of fatalilty in the US, per miles of road, due to all the trees right by your side. Found i was loosing traction in third before i had the secondary's fully open, due to cold tires, cold road, and cold air going down into the cylinders. Soon the aroma of hot Redline wafted into the cockpit, so pulled over on some gravel, dug out the light, and found a small leak on the right side headers, not enough for a fire, so dropped the hood, and continued on.

Took the cutoff thru the Kings Mountain Rev. war battlefield, where the redcoats lost about 225 men to the colonials 25 or so; it was a stunning defeat for the invaders, who were sent running back to Charleston. The winding road, penetrating the the dark forrest, was challenging, even at 40-50 mph, i had to breath on the Wilwoods for many hilly crests, or blind corners. I wondered if this was the woods where Ichabod Crane met the headless horseman, Mr. Crane vanishing forever. As i would, if i went off road into the trees. Many ghosts no doubt still haunt the battlefield's woods.

About an hour later, blasted down the onramp to southbound I-77, and as the dawn seeped thru the trees, saw the shadows leave the occasional roadside low areas. Brought back the memories of my Infantry days, because small units come to full weapons-up alert just prior to dawn, as that is the traditional time for an enemy to attack. I have seen countless misty dawns come to me in my RVN tour, so it brought back vivid thoughts of so long ago.

Pulled into the country club in Spartenburg, where of course i blipped my arrival at the conference to those standing on the veranda sipping hot coffee. Mostly MB's and BMW's in the lot, so of course i had to show lesser cars what a real engine is supposed to sound like.

At noon, walked out, dropped the top, and headed home. Was cool, i had on only a sweater, so it sludged up my marrow a bit, but being a Roadster Driver, i paid it no mind. Cut thru the national battlefield at Kings Mountain again, and this time pulled up by a ranger station, a log cabin, ca. 1770, two story, all handhewn of course, split rail fence, dirt road, so parked my Replica, and shot about four rolls of film, 35mm and 2 1/4. Somehow, a classic car in front of a classic American home is just so fitting. The rangers were impressed. Moved their pickups so i could shoot the best angles.

Continued home, pulled the offending valve cover, and reinstalled it: perhaps i had cought a lip of the gasket or something, no leak afterwards. All in all, a typical SC day, about 200 miles, killed a few bugs on the windscreen, dripped few drops of oil, paid homage to our American heritage, renewed my tan, and gave Abby a bone when i coasted into the garage.

Can't get any better than having one of these cars in South Carolina, where i can drive it every day.

Hal

I really envy you for the area in which you live and the great roads you have to drive on (as well as your ability to tell a tale).

Up here, the leaves are almost all on the ground and the weather has turned for the worse with rain/drizzle/etc 3 days out of 4. However, it is going to get a lot worse before it gets better since the snow will start to fall in about another month or so.

The winter plays havic with our roads so even in the summer months driving a Cobra up here is a bit of a challenge, especially on back country roads. It always seems as though there are pot holes, cracks, bumps, etc which result in pebbles, sand, and/or rocks on the road surface. Of course Cobra drivers try to avoid these objects but it can be difficult. I much prefer to take the back roads instead of the major highways but the bad condition of these roads makes it tough sometimes.

In the mean time, the Cobra is dry and warm in the garage and I can only read about those of you that are still able to enjoy your rides.

Regards,
Wayne

I have to agree, both on the prose and the terrain. Just returned from visiting my father in FAR north Georgia. Drove around that corner of GA, NC, SC...just beautiful. Couldn't take the cobra (no room for the children), but I spent a lot of time imagining what it would be like to really drive that area.

The weather here in N. Texas allows year-round driving, but the scenery is fairly constant...and not too challenging.

While I'm here, I might as well tell a story of my own. It was a dark and stormy night...no wait that's not my story.

Recently, I chose to drive the project car to work. Events required that I take my son to school first, so I was very late getting started to the office. Also, traffic was building quickly. So, I took a back-road known for police activity, and just planned to keep it calm. At the last red-light before a couple miles of open road, a "kid" pulled-up next to me.

It was a classic rice-burner...load megaphone mufflers, loud "music", bad hair. I was struck by the thought of 'turn the volume down on something, 'cause I can't hear my pipes'. We each had a car between us and the light, so no real shenanigins were imminent. But that evil shoulder-angel whispered in my ear, and at about 15mph, I stomped it just long-enough to smoke the tires and avoid hitting the car in front of me.

Well, that got him going. He hit it hard, and changed lanes behind me. I'd guess he was doing about 70 when he passed me (the rest of us were doing 45)...and I just grinned. A mile or two up the road, I saw the bubble-gum machines casting their red and blue lights. That evil shoulder-angel just chuckled "boy is this greaat!"

Thanks Hal,

Great story! In my current job, I do very little writing. Putting a little article together for Club Cobra is my way of keeping those skills alive. I get the feeling that you're in the same mode.

Keep it up!

David, Shame on you :LOL:

Paul