Chapter 19: The Mercury or Woe Is Me

Life moves apace as life does. Unless you're dead. If you're dead, you don't care. You can't be sorry for the ones left behind. There's even Scripture for it. Revelations 21:4 "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:..." Dead is dead, Jed.

Daddy won big time, he had placed a lot of little bets in Detroit, Chicago and Las Vegas. I got my 70 grand, and Daddy was a believer.

He also won betting on the Indy. By the time we had won betting on the Derby and the Indy in 1953, '54 '55, Daddy decided playing the ponies wasn't any fun.

Problem was, I knew who won the Series, the Cup and the Oscars. Daddy stopped betting entirely.

We started working the Market. A select few stocks made us pretty wealthy. We survived the crash that ended in '54, because we sold off everything before it happened and bought a week before the market recovered.

Mother did not go to Europe, she tried Hawaii instead. She loved it (they spoke english.) Mother never went to Europe ... she didn't consider England European ... they spoke english ... sorta.

The paint was a success, the military/industrial complex bought the patents, this time Daddy presided over the sale. I'd really gotten ripped off the first time, the first lawyers made more off the sale than I did. Daddy was much more reasonable. There were problems though.

A bunch of REMF Generals didn't care if the enemy could shoot down our bombers. They were getting paid off by the same industrialists who later bid their first born children for my paint. Daddy knew Senators Potter and Ferguson personally. A campaign was begun ... Desk Generals were retired right, left and center. They, the military/industrial complex, bought my paint.

I bought the '51 Mercury two door when I was 12 instead of 16: Daddy bought a Mercedes ... such are the rewards of a life of ... well, heck.

I mean, off track betting IS illegal in Michigan. However, Mom positively loved playing Bingo at the Catholic Church, she was heart broke when the Sheriff closed down the games.

The '51 and I had a wonderful time. In 3 days it was a hollow shell ... no interior, motor, transmission or glass. I studied Hot Rod Magazine ... there was a complete article on chopping a top. Admittedly, it was on a Model A, but the theory was the same.

Take out some metal in the door window holes, door holes, front and rear window holes and weld the damn thing back together. An A model has straight posts and it's very easy to chop. The glass is flat, any parts house has patterns.

On the other hand, a '51 mercury is all curves and slants. The top has to be split front to back and side to side, new metal welded in and the joints hammered, dollied and leaded. I used up 3 wrecks getting the roof shaped right.

The glass is immensely difficult to shape to fit the new holes: I hired that out. I nosed, decked, de-handled and dechromed the body but I left the stock grill (I like the look.) I frenched the headlights, extended the rear fenders, frenched and tunneled Lincoln taillights and hung a connie kit. Bubble skirts with chrome teeth finished the look. The teeth, bumpers, grill and connie cover were the only visible chrome. I farmed out the interior and the metal flake baby blue exterior.

A Hemi weighs 220 pounds more than a Ford flattie so the spring rates were all wrong, changing the springs upset the caster and camber, changing those knocked the rear-end out of line. The extra weight meant better brakes, trying to hold down weight I went to Kelsey Hayes wires, but they weighed more than the stock wheels ... it just kept going and going and going.

Then there was the security system ... nobody was going to steal my baby and live. That added more weight ... more weight changed spring rates, new springs? ... new shocks ... new shocks? ... caster and camber changes. I didn't do it last time and the Merc, for all it looked cool, rode like the beastie it was, a lead sled.