June 16, 2018. It surely did rain on The Territorial Days Classic Car Show in Deer Lodge, Montana today, but rookie me was determined to enjoy myself regardless. At least I wasn’t riding a motorcycle or driving the outstanding 1923 Model T bucket Ford. Both of those vehicle operators toughed it out through the parade down Main Street–and kudos to them for their determination–but once we’d lined our vehicles up for the spectators, weather had its say.
The Model T driver covered his cockpit with a bright blue tarp. If he hadn’t, he’d have been driving home in a swimming pool.
1923 Model T bucket Ford, geared for the weather.
Caveat: The actual name of the event was the 29th Annual Rod Run Show and Shine, and it included a Poker Run–in which I did not participate–prior to the show itself. But I figure more readers worldwide will recognize the term “Classic Car Show,” which is why that designation appears in the title.
Side Note: The City of Deer Lodge has more warm weather civic events per year than any other community of its size I’ve ever seen or even heard about. Great place for a tourist to visit and an even cooler place to live.
Being in the parade was interesting. Not even the inclement weather could represent countless local families from lining the sidewalks on both sides of Main Street as we eased through town, idling with feet on brakes to maintain what was pretty much a walking pace. Every driver had to keep a sharp eye out for the smaller children as they darted out in the street to snatch up individually wrapped pieces of candy scattered by older, bucket carrying, candy tossing benefactors. The snack-grabbers were being watched by parents quite closely, of course, and no wee one quite put himself or herself in actual danger that I saw, but I’m pretty sure none of us were taking chances. Tagging a three year old with a front fender would have put a real damper on the festivities. Caution, care, and safety were the watchwords of the procession, especially with most drivers being old enough to be grandparents or even, in some cases, great grandparents.
Once we were all lined up diagonally across the middle of the street for the car show, it became obvious just how much the weather had reduced the car count. Last year, with the sun shining brightly, everything nice and dry on a balmy day, Deer Lodge Territorial Days had so many cars entered that I burned through two camera batteries and still wasn’t satisfied. Today, the count was much lower…which I decided was to my advantage. A rookie doesn’t need to start his swimming career at the deep end of the pool, now does he? I was so green at this that I had no idea I was supposed to look inside the plastic bag of goodies the organizers handed to every driver, so I quietly failed in the following categories:
–Ten drawing tickets for baskets of goodies and what looked like very cool little red toolboxes were never entered.
–Slips of paper allowing me to vote for Best In Show (“Do not vote for your own car.”) were never filled out.
Oops. I’ll know better next year.
Still, with the lower car count, my 1970 Impala being there counted for something. Sure, I’m biased. Can you spell “Duh?” But in my extremely biased opinion, while recognizing the Impala was in no shape to win prizes–it needs way too much work for that–I firmly concluded it was the second prettiest car in the show.
My 1970 Chevy Impala. No trophies, but it shore is purty.
Rear view of the 1970 Impala. About the license plate: HU is an ancient name for God (found in the English language in words like hu-man and humor) and can be sung for protection, balance, and insight.
Okay, so how wet was it?
It was so wet that the most prized pieces of real estate along Main Street were the awnings covering various bits of sidewalk, especially the long green awning in front of Keystone Drug and its neighbors.
It was so wet that my most prized experience of the day was the conversation held under an awning with Bob Welch. Bob and Joyce’s 1947 Ford pickup won Best Truck. It was good to see them win the trophy, but mostly it was good to find they’d driven all the way down from Troy, Montana. Troy sits in the northwest corner of the state…and I had to ask a question.
“Troy? Did you know the Colvers?”
He did. I lit up inside. “Bruce was the closest thing to a kid brother I ever had.” For some years, the Colvers lived not far from the ranch west of Drummond, Montana, where I grew up. Bruce was four years younger than me. We picked potatoes together, rode horses into the mountains together, fished together, and he was a hand. (Which, in case our non-western readers don’t know, is the ultimate compliment.)
Tim Colver, Bruce’s dad, outlived his son by a solid five years, determined to see his grandson Tony to manhood. He got the job done and then passed on. When all was said and done, I was the only member of the Baker family who managed to attend both funerals, though I had to fly out of San Diego for Bruce’s. It’s one of the better things I’ve done in my life.
Bob and Joyce Welch of Troy, Montana, with their 1947 Ford pickup truck and the trophy for Best Truck.
Even though as one of the drivers I was standing near the sound system when the show winners were announced, I did not in every case learn who won what. My hearing does not appreciate the average loudspeaker; the sound is often nothing much more than an unpleasant screech to me.
But there was no misunderstanding which car won Best Paint Job or Best in Show. Best Paint Job went to the car whose driver had already bailed out because of the rain. Pretty good, really, calling it quits and still winning. But the car (or the pickup truck, depending on which side of the El Camino coin you’re viewing) deserved it, and who could forget the license plate?
LIPSTIK, a Chevy El Camino SS owned by Larry Renfield of Deer Lodge, won the Best Paint Job trophy.
The judges were walking by, checking out the cars, just as I was lifting the hood on the Impala. They had a question: “Is this a restoration?”
Had I simply answered yes, perhaps the car could have competed (ineffectively at best) for Best Restored…but that was not an option. Honesty required me to answer, “No. I doubt there’s very much original on it. About the only thing that would count as restoration is the steering wheel.” All true. Craig Daley, an ace mechanic and self avowed Chevy fanatic at Mike Brown’s incredibly awesome Old Stage Auto repair shop, did some work on the Impala for me this past month. He discovered, among other things, that the car originally came with bucket seats. Thankfully, some previous owner found a bench seat and installed it. The rear seat is recovered in fabric that is far superior to the original factory vinyl. It’s got an Edelbrock four barrel carburetor and heads that certainly did not come from Detroit. It’s more of a sleeper street rod than a restoration; get it up into the power band, say around 50 mph, and floor it to 80 mph…yeah, you can hear it roar and watch the fuel gauge drop.
This Dodge from Lake County won Best Restored.
Winner of the Best Restored award.
A bit more about the rain. They say pictures are worth more than words, so check these out.
Rain drips from the rear bumper of a 1968 Pontiac Firebird.
It was so rainy that an hour after we’d lined our cars up, at least one driver had called it a day (note gap) and most of the crowd had already gone home as well.
Thirty minutes later, the big 1937 Kenworth touring bus had pulled out as well. With a gap in the line of this size, it was time to think about wrapping things up for this year.
And now: Time for Best of Show–and three other trophies–awarded to the red 1958 Chevy Bel Air, owned by Toby Kline. Lots of photos here because Toby’s car deserves them. This car’s wins included Best of Show, Best Engine Bay, Best Hot Rod pre 1960, and Best Interior. Clean sweep.
The 1958 Chevy Bel Air that won four trophies, including Best of Show–which I knew it would do the moment I saw it. Awesome machine.
Toby Kline (right) with his winning Chevy and trophies on top.
The engine bay.
Through the many raindrops on the side window, a view of the crisp, clean interior–complete with super friendly little dog in warm sweater and pants, tail a-wagging. Who could resist that?
Last but not least, a word about the 1937 Kenworth touring bus. As a former truck driver, I have a high degree of respect for the Kenworth company but had no idea they were making tour buses in 1937. For that matter, I didn’t even know tour buses existed in 1937. The Great Depression was still in force that year; who had money to go on bus tours? Can you imagine being a farmer in the Dust Bowl, just lost your land to the bank due to the drought, no idea where or how you’re going to live tomorrow, and here comes a tour bus full of tourists gawking at the rubes, the dust clouds, the general hard times, and going, “Ooh, look at the peasants, Ralph!” Talk about a gulf between rich and poor.
Yet the Kenworth is a thing of rugged beauty. For that matter, we’re pretty rugged here in Montana, too. We might have abbreviated the annual Rod and Run Show and Shine this year, but we did hold the event, rain or no rain. We were all promised better weather for next year–the odds are pretty good, this having been an unusual spring–and I’m looking forward to it. It’s bound to be awesome, and I’ll no longer be a rookie in the rain. Y’all come!
Bob and Joyce Welch of Troy, Montana, with their 1947 Ford pickup truck and the trophy for Best Truck.
Even though as one of the drivers I was standing near the sound system when the show winners were announced, I did not in every case learn who won what. My hearing does not appreciate the average loudspeaker; the sound is often nothing much more than an unpleasant screech to me.
But there was no misunderstanding which car won Best Paint Job or Best in Show. Best Paint Job went to the car whose driver had already bailed out because of the rain. Pretty good, really, calling it quits and still winning. But the car (or the pickup truck, depending on which side of the El Camino coin you’re viewing) deserved it, and who could forget the license plate?
Wonderful car show. I saw a 68 Impala station wagon on Craigs list this morning, totally original for just $10,500. It even has the original paint and that is all faded from the sun down here. I also saw a Ford Hotrod roadster, just $28,500 on there. It was beautiful. There was a 49 Ford 4 door, just $29,500 too. Not to mention the 37 Buick Special for the bargain price of $13,995.
Dennis would have been salivating over the 65 Scout that is on there for $2500. It still runs, but hasn’t been registered in 40 years. He loved those things, and was always bemoaning the one he had years ago. It got run over by a deuce and a half and Dennis was pried out from under the dash that he had dove under. No way it could have gotten out of the way before the truck hit him. The deuce and a half had lost its brakes going downhill and ran the stop. It was being used by a farmer running vegetables to the store. Dennis was in the intersection before he realized the truck was not going to stop.
As you can tell, it is slow going looking for a vehicle for me, because I have to stop and drool over the impractical oldies. I did find a possible today, but need to set up a mechanic visit. It is a 05 Ford Explorer, with a slipping transmission. Only reason I am considering it is because it is only $1500, and if it can be fixed reasonably, it is a bargain. Easily worth two-three times that price, with the miles on it. All I would have to do, is pay to get it fixed, and I think I could get a new transmission put in and still have it be under blue book and budget. The guy thought it was just needing the fluid flushed and refilled, since it hasn’t been driven much in the last year. He drove it a month ago, and it slipped a little when taking off. I’m not huge on Fords, but the Explorers are pretty reliable and it has the 4.0 6 cyl, which is a pretty good motor. More economical than the 8 cyl and still has a bit of go to it.
Getting my 1970 Impala last year for $8,500 sounds pretty good, huh. I’ve put less than $1,000 in it since, and the compression test results were a big relief: Range between 115 and 130. Looks like I won’t have to get that rebuilt for some time yet after all. Replacing the glass pack mufflers with new quiet versions solved the problem with the pressure at the tailpipe, too. Pretty even exhaust push coming out of both pipes now. Faster “lope” on the better side, but that’s no surprise.
My ex (last wife before Pam) and I owned two Mazda Navajos, which were basically Ford Explorers with a Mazda nameplate. The first was a red ’92 plain Jane. I liked it a lot, even wrote a song about “Bombing down the highway in a Mazda Navajo….” The ex rolled that one, over correcting when another vehicle pulled out from a side road right in front of her. We replaced that with a dull green…’95, I think it was. After the divorce, living in San Diego, she ran that one up a guy cable attached to a telephone pole. Fell asleep, burning the candle at both ends, and oops. Oh, and she started out by wrecking my ’89 Grand Prix, the car that inspired Treemin Jackson’s ride. I was riding with her in the Pontiac at the time. Understandable reasons behind each wreck, though; she really didn’t drive that badly…most of the time! 😀
The only downside I remember about the Navajos: We bought a Bayliner boat one time and the dealer rigged the wiring to tow the trailer. Told us they always had more struggle modifying Ford wiring than any other brand. But other than that, they agreed they were solid going down the road. We never had any breakdowns with either of ours.
Ghost, I love your ’72 Impala. My dad had an Impala when I was young. Someone wrecked it where it was parked as they turned the curve on our street. Dad then bought a ’62 Cadillac. That’s what I learned to drive in years later. Boy, was it a bugger to parallel park!
I enjoyed your classic car show. I’ve always been a classic/antique car buff. The Kenworth touring bus is too cool. I had no idea what make/model it was until you told us.
I hope you win a trophy next year, Ghost!
Thanks, Sha. (Note: My Impala is a ’70, not a ’72.) My first wife and I owned a 1965 Impala SS at one time. Bucket seats, console shift, no landau top, smaller engine, spinner hubcaps, and a lemon in one respect: Up a long grade when it was warm weather, it would always overheat. I like this ’70 better overall. Vicky and I traded the ’65 Impala AND our 1960 plain Jane Chevy Biscayne in on a brand new Volkswagen Bug in the spring of 1968. I blew up the Bug’s engine once, before I learned its limitations.
I bet that Caddy was a bugger to parallel park. The Impala isn’t that bad. Plenty of practice spots in both Deer Lodge and Anaconda, the two towns in which I drive the most. Not that I don’t cheat as often as I can; I’ll gladly walk an extra block to take advantage of a long gap where I can pull in to parallel park instead of backing.
You’re not alone when it comes to the Kenworth. I recognized it immediately as a bus, but not necessarily a touring bus, and wouldn’t have had any idea of the year or the make. Fortunately, the sandwich board in front of the vehicle, plus the (to a retired truck driver) highly recognized KW logo on the front, plus the “1937” painted on the side, pretty much gave it away.
A trophy next year, or any year, is not likely. Mainly because the Impala is a daily driver, not truly a show car. In other words, I’ll certainly take care of it and improve it over time, but haven’t the slightest interest in sprucing up every little nifty detail enough to compete with the hobbyists. Even so, though, it gets a lot of attention from all kinds of people who like its appearance.
Feel blessed Sha, I learned to drive on a 65 International Travelall. It was so big and tough, that the local cops had it named THE TANK. It was parked in the street one day and an idiot woman was driving down the street putting her makeup on. She ran into it head on. Totalled her car, and broke the headlight on the TANK. It was bright canary yellow and no one could figure out how she did not see it. Another time, it was snowing, so mom decided to drive us to school for once. She was stopped at the Stop sign and someone came around the corner too fast and could not stop. They used the TANK to stop. It broke the headlight. When the cop was taking the report, mom was all shook up and the cop told her she should have known she could never get hurt while driving that TANK. That was it’s name from then on.
Note to all: When I checked the page just a few minutes ago, it said “COMMENTS CLOSED.” Trust me; that was NOT my doing! The site just decided to play around, I guess. The page wouldn’t even let me go into Edit mode by the usual route, either; I had to go “around the horn” to the Dashboard and call up All Posts to get to it. And sure enough, the “Allow Comments” box had magically unchecked itself. Hope it holds now.
Becky, I’ve never driven a Travelall but do have great respect for the rugged durability of the early International vehicles. I briefly owned an IHC pickup truck–can’t recall the exact year now, but this was in 1976 and it was at least ten years old. Had been run to the bone as a City owned vehicle before I got it. It needed a bit of TLC I couldn’t afford, so eventually I drove it from Vermillion, South Dakota, to Sioux Falls (about 90 miles) and traded it in on a brand new small car, a little Chevy Chevette that had more issues than the truck did.
Didn’t have the Chevette long, either. It immediately dropped all its engine oil on our garage floor. Dealer picked it up and put in a new rear main seal, which solved that problem. But my wife (of that time) hated it and the 4-lug wheels kept loosening up no matter what you did. I’d literally jump up and down on the jack handle (lug wrench), torqued those bolts as tight as humanly possible, and they’d still be wobbly-loose within another 100 miles of driving. Turned around and got a 1978 Ford Pinto, which despite the exploding gas tank was a great vehicle.
But I did live an awesome International Harvester truck story in western Colorado, circa 2008. I was driving a loaded, heavy duty IHC wheeler water tanker, had stopped to put on chains (but was still in the cab) when a downhill 18 wheeler slid past me out of control and jackknifed his trailer into my rig. Bounced his entire rig, tractor and trailer both, sideways off the narrow dirt road and into the trees. Did a little more than just break the headlight; there was some fender and grille damage. But not much; the company mechanic shop had it back in action within days. As a footnote, the bounced rig had been driven by a Mexican illegal immigrant driving on a “Universal Driver’s License,” meaning he did NOT have a Colorado CDL (commercial driver’s license) and had NOT been cleared by the D.O.T. to operate in this country. Not surprisingly, his boss spirited him out of there and the investigating officer wasn’t even able to get his I.D.
Read about Dennis’ Scout above. It got run over by a deuce and a half. Dennis was inside of it at the time and he walked away from that accident, after they used the fire dept ‘jaws of life’ to cut him out of it. Those things were just flat tough. I think my dad’s may have been older than that, but I could not guarantee it. I do know that NV at the time, registered trucks by how much they weighed. My dad and uncle siphoned both gas tanks down to nothing, took everything they could out of it, emptied the extra water reservoirs, took out the extra battery, and my uncle followed him to the DMV to get it weighed. It still topped 2 tons. It was set up to use in the desert and it was usually ready to go. By checking Wikipedia, it was a 2nd generation, which was in production from 59-60. Distinctive build on them.
I wouldn’t ever question the Scout’s toughness. Curb weight isn’t surprising, either. My 1952 Chevy sedan (which I drove from 1961 through 1964) had a curb weight of 3200 (on the title) and the 1970 Impala coupe (on the Montana title) shows an “unladen weight” of 3500, with online forums saying the ’70 Impalas could run over 3800 depending on model. Add in a few hundred pounds of off road engineering to make an IHC Scout and you’d top two tons easily.
All of which tells me I really like my chances if a so called Smart Car ever goes rabid and attacks my Chevy. But curiously enough, a brand new (2018) Impala weighs right in the same range as the ’70 does. The 2018 has a bigger gas tank and far less horsepower than the older version, but mass for mas, they’re nearly identical. Some of the Cadillacs top two tons easily. I was a little surprised, having erroneously thought the current crop of vehicles were significantly lighter, but apparently they’re not..
Personally, my experience with off road vehicles makes me vote for the original Toyota wanna-be Jeeps, chich could definitely take more of a beating than their US fancier competitors of the 1970’s and 1980’s. They could take a beating and slogged through mud and rivers with relative ease. Sadly, mine was stolen in 1987. The 1979 Impalas were pretty, but really didn’t impress me… I was a Toyota Corolla fan at that time though I didn’t own one (please don’t embarass me by asking about my Dodge Dart!) LOL
I just bought a 2001 Ford Explorer, with just 107,000 miles on it. I had my sons check it out, because the mechanic could not get it in to look at for a week. They also did an awesome job of finding my 96 Chevy Astro, that has run great for 279,000 miles. It is in as good shape mechanically, as it is on the looks, and it looks pristine. One blemish on the center console, which I can recover with no problem, and one small ding on passenger door panel. It has been painted to minimize it showing or rusting. The owner went on a test ride with my oldest son, and told him to drive it like he stole it. He trusted a lot. That son is a radical driver, and better not drive it like that now that I own it. Only problem I may have with it, is that it isn’t long enough to put my air mattress in the back of it. I guess I will have to sleep in the tent with all the snoring next time.
Manny: I can speak to the toughness of the Toyota Corolla, at least. For the entire summer of 1985, between wives and working in a San Diego insurance office, I was jazz flutist Lori Bell’s platonic friend (inspiring the title song of my first music album, the tongue-in-cheek Platonic Love)…and also her Corolla driver. She had a lot of back pain (which has since gone away by itself, thankfully) at the time. En route to some of her gigs (those scheduled away from my day job work hours), she would lie down on the back seat (having a small enough body to make that doable) and I would drive. Then I would hang out until the gig was over, and drive her back home.
Her Toyota Corolla was both old and gray, but you could not stop that little beast. I never knew it to fail to start or to hiccup even slightly on the road. That car gave me a lot of respect for the brand.
P.S. Didn’t know the Dodge Dart was an embarrassing subject…never owned one, though my sister once owned a Plymouth Valiant with a Slant Six engine….
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Becky: The Explorer sounds like a truly positive acquisition. Although I didn’t know about the mattress issue. Tent with snoring? You’re doing a lot of camping annually?
I had Lisac’s Tire shop in Anaconda do a front end alignment and wheel balancing on the Impala today, correcting the hot mess left behind by the first tire shop I had work on it. Will be writing a post about that, hopefully to be posted in the next day or three.
I have been going camping with David and his girlfriend when they go. We have been going to Patagonia Lake. Sometimes Katy goes, and sometimes Rodger and Daniel go. We haven’t all been yet. Spent a couple of days over there a couple of weeks ago. David has a tent, but he and his girlfriend both snore. I sleep better if I sleep elsewhere. I think I might be able to get the twin sized air mattress in the back, but I am not sure. I need to get the measurements of the back tomorrow and compare to the mattress measurements. I used to go camping a lot when I was single, and we used to go when we first got married, but after a few forced long term camping trips, we didn’t find it fun any more.
David talked me into going with them and bought me a twin sized air mattress to use. I had fun and they keep inviting me, so I have been going. We had a lot of fun swimming and he cooks pretty well on a grill. Last time there were no fires, including in the barbecue. Not even briquettes. Fire danger was high. They borrowed a camp stove from her brother. I am going to take the crock pot next time. I have cooked some pretty good camp meals in the crock pot.
Ah. Good for you, and here’s hoping the twin sized air mattress fits. I’m skilled enough at camping but haven’t thought of it as being much fun for decades. More like a survival skill. Spent many a night “camped out” with nothing but my ’52 Chevy and a sleeping bag during my early rodeo circuit years. Slept on the ground in the open (no tent) a number of times but eventually settled for the Chevy’s back seat as having better security and fewer sickness episodes (from sleeping on the ground). Pam and I camped (of necessity) for a couple of days in 1997, until I could come up with a Rent To Own mobile home delivered to the rented area on a remote South Dakota ranch, but nothing since.
Might be able to enjoy it now, though, using the motor home van for sleeping. In fact, am considering doing just that in late July, staying at least one night, maybe two, on the Holy Waters Ranch property.
It is much easier on us old folks to go camping, when we have a trailer, van or motorhome to go in. I find the bathroom is usually way too far away, when I wake up. I hitched a ride with David and Arianna when they drove up to the bathrooms, last time. The Explorer is smaller, so it will be easier to just pop out of the space and run up. The van was just too big to turn out of the spot with ease. Then I would have had to try to get it back into the spot with tent stakes all over. They were holding his tent up.
Good points. Me ex-wife #6 and I once went camping at a campground, along with her two barely-teenaged sons. That was torture for me as I don’t really count it as camping when there are neighbors close enough to be a problem–as in, anywhere within line of sight. The few other “official camping” trips over the years were all as remote as possible, the best of them well back in the mountains. One such, however, with my first wife and our two small daughters, was a doozy. All we had for wheels was a ’68 Volkswagen bug, but I rigged a tarp-and-pole arrangement that gave us sky cover extending out from one side of the car like a redneck awning. Wifey and I slept under the tarp (after campfire supper, late because this was in a big park in eastern Washington State and we’d had to drive WAY up into the hills to escape other campers). The girls slept safe in the car.
In the middle of the night, I had to go, and not the way a guy can do standing. Worse, this park was known for its abundant snake population; surely there were some about. Even worse yet, we’d neglected to bring a flashlight. Obviously, I needed to get some distance away from the car before doing my business. In pitch dark. In snake country. With my bare cheeks hanging out at perfect strike level above the ground.
No pressure.
In the morning, we were all dehydrated, having brought too little along to drink. Time to pack up and head back out; we had at least a couple of hours and a ferry ride before we’d be in soft drink vending territory. Halfway down the grade, a huge road kill snake lay sprawled across the road, pale belly to the sun.
Good times.