Americruise East 2003

While everyone at STREET RODDER is a true enthusiast, the irony of our situation is that we seldom have the chance to participate in the hobby to the degree we'd like. With deadlines constantly looming, time is the enemy; there's never enough of it to drive to and from an event, put the magazine together, then head out to the next happening. As a result, most of the staffers collect more airline ticket stubs than dash plaques. But when you're putting on an event, exceptions have to be made.

Along with Rod & Custom, Classic Trucks, and Custom Rodder, STREET RODDER sponsors Americruise, so when editor Brian Brennan asked if I wanted to join the group traveling from San Antonio, Texas, to Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, he didn't have to ask twice, I jumped at the chance. After all, Brennan seldom lets me out of his sight for long, and I was overdue for an extended roadster romp.

The plan was simple enough, the clone of Tom McMullen's '32 roadster (aka the '97 Road Tour car) was to be driven by Tom Vogele from our SoCal office to San Antonio for the opening of the new Vintage Air facility. I'd pick it up there on Saturday, August 9, 2003, then leave the following morning. My job was to drive 1,800 miles to Bloomsburg (a five-day trip), cover the event, then board a plane for Bonneville. The roadster was to ride home in a truck with several others. While I consoled myself with the fact that driving Americruise one-way is better than no-way, I got some more good news. Nick Licata, our official "Web guy," and Tom "Stroker McGurk" Medley would alternate as my passengers. This would be Licata's first long-haul roadster ride, while Medley is a cross-country veteran.

Although I had high hopes for this trip, it didn't start off well. On Saturday's flight out of Orange County a diversion and several delays put me in San Antonio five hours late. Despite the tardiness, I made it out to Vintage Air for an open house and tour of their amazing new 33,000-square-foot facility. Waiting in the R&D center was the roadster, and they had even gone to the trouble of washing it.

No newcomers to Americruise, Vintage Air's owner Jack Chisenhall and V.P. Rick Love have a great deal to do with its success. Love takes on the task of tour leader, meaning he does everything from keeping the group pointed in the same direction to figuring out the gas stops; plus he knows the location of every rest room on the route that crosses five states. While Love leads the charge, Chisenhall can usually be found at the back of the pack, keeping track of stragglers or anyone with problems. Of course, it's not a very well kept secret that he also gets lost from time to time. Fortunately, Chisenhall and Love stay in contact via cell phones.

Bright and early Sunday morning Licata and I met at Vintage Air where we were joined by Rod & Custom Editor Jim Rizzo in the Pomona-based SO-CAL roadster, R&C Tech Editor Dan Kahn in his recently completed modified, and rod builder Roy Brizio and Publisher DeEtte Crow in the R&C anniversary roadster. Although it was sprinkling, Medley opted to take the first shift as my passenger and at the appointed hour of 8 a.m., Love led the convoy to begin the 206-mile trip to SO-CAL Speed Shop in Spring, Texas, a suburb of Houston.

About halfway to our destination Medley and I looked at each other and said simultaneously, "I smell antifreeze." A glance at the Deuce's temp gauge was reassuring, but as we passed Roger Jackson's '34 the cloud of steam that suddenly engulfed the coupe was a sure indication of problems. By the time we doubled back, a half-dozen cars had stopped and a diagnosis was made. It seemed the coupe's air conditioning compressor had seized and the resulting shrapnel had taken out the radiator. This was serious, so a roll-back transporter was summoned, and thanks to cell phones, the necessary repair parts were to be waiting at the next stop.

When we pulled into SO-CAL, our hosts Brad, Kim and Bill Lindig, and Bruce and Dan Burroughs had lunch prepared. Of course, the real treat was touring the facility. The retail store has an absolutely unbelievable inventory, and the shop is full of drop-dead gorgeous cars, both finished and under construction. It wasn't long after our arrival that the Jackson coupe showed up and was unloaded in the Burroughs' shop.

Lake Charles, Louisiana, was the next stop, and Licata decided that he wanted to ride the 162 miles to the Isle of Capri Riverboat Hotel and Casino. It was during this leg of journey that his education began. The first lesson our neophyte learned was that wiping the car down at every stop is a waste of time. His second lesson was about Mother Nature. After accumulating enough under-water time in a roadster to qualify as a submarine commander, I've found that a trash bag makes a great raincoat and doesn't take up much luggage space. Besides, in a roadster, as long as you keep the speed above 45 mph or so, most of the water goes over and around the passenger compartment, making a raincoat unnecessary. However, Licata had other ideas.

As soon as a pair of raindrops appeared on the windshield he pulled every piece of foul weather gear that can be found in the Eddie Bauer catalog out of his backpack. The next thing I knew, my passenger looked like he was about to ascend Mt. Everest. Hat, goggles, gloves, and I suspect long underwear were part of the wardrobe. And then, just as the last bit of Velcro was secured, we drove out from under the one cloud in the sky. The sun appeared with a vengeance and it wasn't long before steam was rising from the asphalt, and my little buddy's forehead. I could tell he was fighting the urge to tear off all the layers of added clothing to prevent the inevitable razzing. But a guy can only stand so much, so by the time another tenth rolled over on the odometer Licata had worked the bulk of his clothing up over his head--where it seemed to get stuck in a big wad. There he was, arms in the air--it looked as though he was being held up. A string of expletives was followed by intermittent thrashing and unintelligible, muffled mumbling. Eventually he extricated himself. I didn't have the nerve to harass him, but I can say that it's tough to drive when you're laughing as hard as I was.

Day two would see 425 miles roll by. The Jackson's caught up with us, and we were back to full strength. Our first stop was Baton Rouge, Louisiana, for a tour of the USS Kidd. A Navy Fletcher class destroyer, the ship saw duty in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and the Persian Gulf. Retired from active duty in 1998, the Kidd is captured in a unique docking system that secures the ship throughout the 40-foot rise and fall of the Mississippi River. When old man river is at its low point, the Kidd rests in a dry-dock-style cradle. It makes putting a hot rod on jackstands child's play.

After touring the Kidd, we headed off to Meridian, Mississippi. At one of the gas stops we noticed the roadster had a film of oil all over the nose. We had been following our buddy Danny Zoeller in his '51 Ford woodie, and sure enough, he was losing power steering fluid. But while the bow of our road duster had a film of fluid, Chisenhall's '39 sedan had a coat of gear oil that was working its way up the windshield. It seems he stopped along the way to lend a hand when Kahn had to pull off the road to make some repairs to an errant hood panel on the R&C modified. Sometime after getting back on the road, Chisenhall found out the hard way that Kahn's modified had another problem. Evidently, the combination of launching ramp-type bumps and extra-long U-bolts resulted in a hole in the rearend housing and the modified was spitting out 90-weight. That evening there were a number of flashlight illuminated repairs made in the motel parking lot, while Zoeller canvassed every late-night parts house in Meridian for a hose to cure his power steering leak.

Tuesday morning it was off to Coker Tire in Chattanooga, Tennessee, 292 miles away. Up to that point our '32 hadn't missed a beat, but after stopping for gas, then getting stuck in traffic with temperatures approaching those found in the Serengeti, the small-block began to show signs of vapor lock. Fortunately I had Kahn's cooler with me, as Licata decided to take a ride in the R&C modified and Medley sought out a closed car with A/C. A rag dipped in water was used to cool the fuel line enough so I could grab it and pull it away from the radiator hose; problem solved.

Generally, we'd been stopping for gas every 120 miles or so, that also gave Licata and Medley a chance to rotate between the roadster and other cars. During one of Licata's stints we decided to run ahead of the pack and find a spot so we could shoot photos of the group as they passed. It was during this pursuit that Licata's horizons were broadened as he learned what a good street rod was capable of. As a result of his last-second decision to shoot from an overpass, we took an off ramp at speed--I think his fingerprints may still be pressed into the roadster's passenger door. For some reason I lost him at the next gas stop.

After our lunch stop and tour of Coker, it was down the road to Lokar 112 miles away in Knoxville. The Walls family pulled out all the stops and put on a real feast for us. Along with giving the group a tour of their impressive facility, the Lokar crew opened up the shop to help make needed repairs. Kahn's roadster was up in the air to replace a broken radius rod bolt, re-hang the exhaust, and fix a trans leak. Zoeller's wagon ended up with the rack-and-pinion on the workbench for repair. The Lokar crew put in overtime and got Kahn on the road that evening, but Zoeller would have to wait until the following day to get a replacement rack.

Wednesday was a pretty straightforward day, 361 miles to Harrisonburg, Virginia. Licata was becoming a veteran. He had given up wiping down the roadster at every stop and took a turn behind the wheel. A quick study, it only required a few short miles and a small rock for him to figure out why you don't hang your arm out the side of a fenderless roadster, or rest it on the gap between the door and the quarter-panel on a rough road. That evening we checked into our motel, and then joined a cruise night sponsored by the Valley Cruisers of Harrisonburg.

By Thursday morning it seemed I had created a monster. Licata had transformed into the road warrior. He was the first guy in the parking lot, raring to go at 7 a.m. He seemed to be upset that the next stop (POSIES in Hummelstown, PA) was only 194 miles away. After Ken Fenical gave us the guided tour of the place he led us to lunch at a nearby eatery, the Soda Jerk. Then it was off to the Antique Auto Club of America's Museum.

So far, Roger Jackson's car had a new radiator, every thing that had come loose on Kahn's car had been reattached, Zoller's wagon had a new steering gear, and our roadster had required bending the fuel line away from the lower radiator hose and jiggling a fuse to get the stoplights working. But the troubles weren't over. On the way to the museum, Rizzo coasted to the side of the road in the SO-CAL roadster; the 700-R4 had nothing but neutrals. Roughly 80 miles from our destination, it had gone as far as it was going to go. POSIES' crew trailered it back to the shop until a decision on its fate could be made.

Pulling into the hotel Thursday night was not only an accomplishment, but for most of us it meant we'd be staying in the same place for three consecutive nights; it was almost like being home. But there was a down side too. It meant the trip was over. We'd all spent the better part of the last week doing the things most of us love to do: drive a hot rod, see the country, and hang out with a bunch of great people. And while the next few days were to be spent at the Bloomsburg Fairgrounds doing the typical stuff, the real fun in most rod runs is getting there. I envied those who would be making the return trip, but deadlines dictated that Nick and I board planes.

Americruise East was a long haul, but I'm ready to go again, and I'll bet Licata is too. I wonder if he'll leave the rain gear behind next time?