Chapter 6

Replete and surfeit ... Damn ... she makes good soup ... the thought slipped in as his eyelashes lowered that he had eaten too much ... again.

No sense fighting it ... and out.

Genevieve listened as his breathing relaxed. Chicken soup ... Jewish Penicillin ... I usually feed him a sustaining dose once a week ... but we were busy and I missed. If he had any idea that I was feeding a habit he’d stop.

Sleeping ... finally. I’m heading to the Eighty ... Rule changes ... well ... not exactly ... In the six months since Barney ... excuse me ... Chief Barnsley ... and I played chase with my little cars it seems like every retired man on East Grosse Ile had built ... was building ... drawing plans for or buying materials ... for a cartoon copy of an original pre-war race car.

Detroit has an Auto Museum that can’t be beat. Those seeking inspiration for a car need seek no further. But someone had already been to Indianapolis because one of the cars was a cartoon of No .32, Ray Harroun’s Wasp, winner of the 1911 Indianapolis 500. Cartoon doesn’t really fit ... but neither does replica. The style was right ... it was just small ... and single seat.

Some would call the cars 80% ... but that wasn’t right either.

There were eight cars ... not including mine. The eight builder drivers made suggestions and guidelines were mostly set. It might not have meant all that much ... but Barney ... Chief Barnsley ... was part of the original Eight ... and HE said my transmission was an unfair advantage ... and my cars wheelbase, both of them, were too long.

Well ... when you get to facts ... they’re both 4 wheeled motorcycles ... with a body.

To make matters worse ... they were using MY machine-shop to build THEIR cars. I’d complain ... but the feds would find out Daddy had made a terrific deal buying the whole airfield and take it back.

I’m taking my bicycle ... the little car would wake Daddy ... and I want him to sleep ... I don’t recall him ever being sick.

The builders were out in full force. Seems they have decided on mostly straight frames, There’s at least one frame with a taper but nobody is building a Ze’d chassis ... like a chopped and channeled 32 Ford ... for that matter ... nobody is building a coupe ... they’re all building roadsters.

What happens when a bunch of women gather together in a kitchen? They cook ... well ... first they snoop ... where does she store this and that? Then ... they cook.

We have a large group of retired machinists ... in the biggest hobby machine shop in Michigan ... ah ... they explore ... turning three jaw and four jaw chucks and checking rotary chucks and oiling everything ... The die-sinkers check out the mould material and sharpen dull tools and the draftsmen draw ... cars.

Cars ... because that’s what they’re doing ... building cars from photographs ... photographs of cars that someone measured full size. Drafting those cars but using the agreed upon limitations.

These limitations: 17 × 1.75 or 2 inch rims, 17 × 2.50 tires, a 38-inch track, a wheelbase as close to 66 inches as the aesthetics of the car will allow, and powered by a 200 cc class, single cylinder, 6.5 hp Honda or Honda Clone carbureted OHV engine (the GX200 or Predator 212) REAR ... behind the driver ... ENGINE and REAR WHEEL DRIVE. Weight limit ... two hundred and fifty pounds.

The 250 pounds and the engine size are pretty much set in stone ... one can fudge a bit on the track width and wheelbase.

Oh, yeah ... lest I forget ... the builder has to drive it, operate the controls and compete on a ROAD course against 25 or 30 other cars and builder/drivers.

ROAD COURSE ... no circle turn left tracks ... left turns right turns and uphill and down dale ... wide and narrow streets. Some races are clockwise and some counterclockwise ... some times both directions on the same track on the same day. Daylight only ... until some crazy decides that scale means headlights ... and everyone cheers.