Good Art for Bad Eggs. Marc Nischan .com presents lowbrow art from the trenches of pop culture.
V-8 NIGHTMARE: It's ALIVE!!!
At this point it's the Friday before Billetproof. I took the day off work to get the Heap running. It was fenderless when I got up in the morning and I was still assembling the front clip in between sanding and dinging. Remember that front clip I bought off that guy down in the ghetto? This was one of the fenders. It was pretty well pitted. Between dinging and sanding and bondo-ing, and sanding and sanding and sanding, this fender took for ever. It put me way behind.
I was going to take pictures of all the things I put on, and continue the gripping saga, but as the gap between me and Billetproof narrowed I started burining the midnight oil and there was no time. I was coming home from work and thrashing on the car until the wee hours every night. I completely re-wired the entire car, and that took more than a little bit of time. Yeeeesh. I plumbed all the gas and brake lines and figured out how to get the guages working. Well, the critical ones, anyway. All you really need is oil pressure and water temperature. The speedo worked for a while, but during a routine stress test it fell off. It now resides at the bottom of the guage cluster.
The Tarantulas played the Pre-Billetproof party at Boomer's that Friday night, and I slept a couple hours and got back to work. Right up until the very 11th hour I toiled ceaselessly onward to make my goal. I threw out my back, exhausted my savings, and estranged my wife, all because it would pay off on that glorius moment when I rolled up to the gates of the fairground in a cloud of dust and machismo to show my compatriots, confrers and contemporaries that I had, through sheer force of will, perservered. That I was worthy to stand in the company of men, with my head held high, with victory on my chest, a spring in my step, and steel in my eyes.
Naturally, it died in the driveway on the way out to the show.
The Tarantulas were playing at Billetproof, and I didn't get to the show until just as we had to set up at 4:00. I missed everything. We played, and they gave away the awards, and everybody went to watch the Figure 8 races, which were sweet.
The next day I pulled the gas tank and started trying to figure out why I had no gas up at the filter. After a probe (uh- huh huh) of the gas tank, all I could guess was that the pick-up hose was laying against the float and therefore unable to suck gas. So I made this little beauty to keep the hose on the bottom of the tank. Works like a charm.
And so, at long last, here is is. The Moment You've All Been Waiting For... IT RUNS!!! I take it out every chance I get.
