At Ardene's last week and picked up a few cheap necklaces, including this retro sixties surfers cross.
Wow an iron cross and a banana bike, I would make a cool teenager circa 1966.
"J" immediately asks why I was wearing a swastika…..which immediately put me on mind of this rare slice of sixties wax by fellow Canuk, Debbie Lori Kaye, better known for her country music career.
Recorded in 1966 this Shangri-las, Ronettes style 45 attempted to capitalize on the "controversy" around kids wearing replica iron crosses.
The fad began amongst in Southern California's surfers:
World War I Ace Max Immelmann earned two, as did Corporal Adolf Hitler, and now U.S. teen-agers are buying them by the gross. Dug out of attics and curio shops and freshly minted by the thousands, the German Iron Cross has become the newest surfer's emblem and high school fad.
Nobody, except parents, seems upset by the Iron Cross's connotations. "When kids ask me about the 1939 inscription," says one distributor, "I just tell them it was a big year for surfing."
Time Magazine April 22, 1966
I can still vaguely remember them in grocery store gumball machines in the late seventies, edgy ;)
My old boss passed away the other day, no I don't know all the details yet. It doesn't matter a great car guy has gone. I have mixed feelings about him but we are all flawed creations. Who am I to cast stones.
It is hard to believe he is gone, he seemed a force of nature.
When I told him about me he did not recoil in horror or retreat into machismo disdain. For that I will always be grateful. If his reaction had been different I would have significantly delayed my transition.
I worked with him for a decade, travelled together across North America, waited in airports, rental cars, froze and sweated an countless film shoots.
He was a larger than life character as I think you can tell from the lead photo, he will be greatly missed by all who were lucky enough to be his friends.
I hope he is somewhere where the gas prices are low and the speed limits high. Long may you run.
The Big Guy at the wheel of my Corvette last season at Cayuga
Whether you believe in Valhalla or not (and I sincerely hope there is an afterlife) it is not for the dead to worry but rather those left behind to reflect on life.
I am happy that I no longer look at my life and despair, I have miles left to go but I am oh so very glad I am here and did what I needed to do.
Morning bike ride with children to the library on my vintage seventies CCM Cheetah
Lot to talk about so a few words as well as pictures for day 2.
Lucy asked in yesterdays comments, if the cars cause any consternation amongst the general public. I can't say they that I have noticed any but then I am not the most observant person but I am naturally highly tuned to any real or imagined indication I am not passing.
In traffic or the inevitable conversations at the gas pumps most people simply take one at face value or assume the car belongs to a husband or boyfriend. As soon as they talk to be they know it is mine. The rockabilly, rat rod culture has seen more and more woman building or driving their own cars and not just as Bettie Page eye candy….not that I wouldn't mind being both.
When out in the Cadillac convertible on the weekend an older guy pulled up and said that the 59 was his dream car and asked if I could adopt him. His parting words were, "I bet you have to beat them off with a stick and I don't mean because of the car." Well that made my day.
But pride cometh before the fall.
Yesterday I dropped off a resume for a position at a very large Mercedes agent, I believe it is one of their world flagship stores. I made sure I was well dressed, grey suit and black silk blouse, appropriate length black skirt and heels.
A bit of an odd situation as candidates were asked to deliver resumes in person (no doubt so one could be pre screened judged on appearance). It was not my first choice as jobs go but I treated it as a test of my confidence. Could I walk in there and both pass and make a good impression.
Exiting the Lincoln I entered through the big double doors, my heels clicking like gun shoots over the marble floors. All eyes turned my way. I was immediately pounced on by the concierge. She was dressed very very nicely with very high designer heels and could have easily been a model.
I had to wait a few minutes while she tried to find the person I had to see (as they have a gender neutral name, I was not sure if it would be a man or a woman). My potential boss turned out to be a woman and was if anything even more attractive and well dressed than the concierge. Looking as if she stepped out of Vogue in a pale aqua dress I felt like a line backer in a frock from Walmart.
We conversed for a minute, all interviews would take place after the long weekend. I thanked the super model and walked out, head held high, not looking back afraid that I would see them laughingly putting my resume in the round file.
I should not be so chagrined, woman have been judged on their appearance in the workforce forever.
Contemplating my lack of super model good looks but more importantly I am sure I have a cooler set of wheels
Thought I would try something new and tell my story through photos this week, yes a post everyday for seven days, talk about aiming high. Please send embarrassing praise or hate mail to comments section.
About to head out on emergency Taco Hell run in the 1972 Mark IV
The Mark cooling down after a highway run, just like the 59 Caddy this car loves the interstate and hates puttering around town.
Missing my Vette, vintage seventies "Wrap YourAss in Fiberglass" t-shirt, cleaning the house in preparation for visit by friends from university days. The colour is in this season!
Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses......
And without.
Lake Ontario at twilight, park where I have taken children to play a few times last week to expend end of day energy
On the weekend I cleaned the garage, the poor 59 Cadillac was surrounded by boxes, tools, tires and the trunk had become an impromptu storage area of other projects. By the end of the weekend I had freed her from imprisonment but had not had time to get her started.
Tuesday afternoon I began the usually laborious process of bringing her back to life. Once the battery received a top up charge the huge gold twin snorkel air cleaner would be removed revealing the tri-power carburetor set up. My 59 has the optional Q engine option, the standard 390 being equipped with three two barrel carburettors. Similar to a 64 GTO but with a vacuum operated instead of progressive linkage.
If you leave her sitting for more than a week or two the fuel drains back from the carbs and the centre carb must be primed before starting. Using a small cup of high test, small amounts of gasoline are dribbled into the carb and then the car cranked until the fuel pump can deliver suck enough from the tank to fill the centre carbs bowl and fuel line.
She wanted to run and obliged by bursting into life almost immediately, within minutes she was backed out into the bright sunlight. The AM tube radio had quit working last season and I took a few minutes to examine the wiring under the dash. The goddess of vintage cars was smiling and it turned out to be just a fuse. Once a 9 Amp fuse was located and the tubes warmed up The Ronettes came blasting through the speakers, magical. I just sat there in the warm summer sunshine listening Ronnie's amazing voice making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Later the girls and I took her on cruise along the lakeshore and to a park to fly kites, a lovely evening. Later I met my friend (another Cadillac fan) for coffee. On the way home much too late with the top down in the cool night air, Bobby Darrin singing, Beyond the Sea I felt like I was in a scene from Mad Men, Betty rather than Don of course.
Oh one more car story, five minutes into our maiden voyage, the Caddy starts to run rough and we can smell gas. I pull over into a side street shut her down and pop the hood (yes I do have a fire extinguisher in the trunk). No flames but the rear carb was wet with fuel, most likely the float had stuck. No tools on hand I improvised and grabbed the hard plastic comb in my handbag, a few whacks on the fuel bowl and we were back on the road!
I will adore you for eternity…
well worn copy of the 59 shop manual
Yes the 59 is the car I am considering selling to fund FFS, a car I have owned since I was 16 and although I know it shouldn't be it is a hard decision. Car guys and gals will understand.
My first article in a non automotive magazine has just been published. The latest issue of Frock has my review of the documentary I Am A Woman Now. It is a reworking of my blog on the same subject.
The magazine did a great job on the layout, see page 26. Lots of other great articles to enjoy.
You can download the magazine for free, make sure join their mailing list at http://bit.ly/gsfrock.
If you want anything done you have to do it yourself.
No I don't mean SRS! I had completed the necessary cosmetic repairs on my 76 Electra and realized it was time for an oil change and a chassis lube. Both jobs are a rather dirty and messy affair. Perhaps time to leave such tasks to the guys….professional mechanics that is.
I dropped by a oil change/repair franchised shop that advertised a price less than supplies would cost me. I pulled up in the Seville as I exited I could hear the guys in the shop remarking on the "old" Caddy. A less friendly reception from the woman behind the counter.
Asked to confirm the price of oil,filter lube on an older V8 Buick she snapped, well what kind, year etc. Its a 455 I said , "well what model" was here terse reply, giving me a look that said stupid bitch….as if the model makes any difference.
Its an Electra Limited Landau Custom Coupe. Anyway they wanted to charge me an extra 13 dollars for the extra litre of oil the 455 would need plus they would have to charge extra for my rare filter. I turned on my heel and left with a polite no thank you.
GM Goodwrench was much more friendly and had the filter in stock. Nevertheless I did the job myself. Emerged from under the car with all nails intact for a change and the satisfaction of knowing the job was done correctly.
Girls, learn how to change your own oil. Yes a dirty job but you will save money and a little time on your back….under your car will help you identify any potential future problems.
Sunday was spent cleaning the garage and garden shed, more hot, dirty work. Had to stack some 20 inch rims and tires above my head, OMG I have definitely lost upper body strength. Photo is me hot, sweaty and no makeup.
Perhaps I should have called this post smoke and mirrors...
Have to share a quick story. I am coming back from my mothers with my two youngest in the back seat of the Electra. At the stop light a large black Chevy Avalanche pulls up and a rather handsome African American man compliments my car and asks some questions about her.
To show off a little I hold the brake for a few seconds and manage to pull of a respectable and rather loud burn out (455 V8 has 510 ft pounds of torque, that is more than a Hemi). At the next light he leans over and says, "damn girl you are turning me on". LOL
Put another check mark in the pass column.
No children were harmed in the making of this blog post.
The other evening got together with Genni to watch the three episodes of Hit & Miss, wow, episode 3 had me teary eyed but the conclusion provided the necessary catharsis moment. I won't spoil it for any of you if you have not seen it yet.
Thanks to all my readers, just surpassed 100 members….Thanks Everybody!!!
