As Nick Licata, aka the SRM Web guy, and I boarded the plane in Orange County bound for San Antonio, we agreed it didn't seem possible that a year had gone by since the last Americruise. But, there we were, off to join Jack Chisenhall, Rick Love, George Packard, and the rest of the gang at Vintage Air for another cross-country cruise. However, this time around there were some distinct differences; we'd be driving last year's Road Tour '33 roadster rather than our trusty '32, our destination would be Indy for the Goodguy's Hot Rod Nationals (June 11-13), and this time Nick didn't pack every piece of clothing he owns.
After arriving deep in the heart we decided to take the roadster for a little shakedown run to check it out-and it was a good thing we did. As the Texas temps sent the mercury rising, we discovered the '33 had some gaping holes around the bottom of the firewall that ducted hot air directly from the exhaust system up behind the kick panels, plus there were some unusual rattles and clanks we found suspicious. Consequently, we spent that evening in Rick's garage going over the car while George stuffed insulation in all the gaps and added vent hoses to the air conditioner that had somehow been left off when the car was built. Ironically, that was the best thing that could have happened, but more on that later.
Bright and early Friday morning we all gathered in the parking lot at Vintage Air. After a few instructions from tour leader Rick, we were off to Painless Performance in Fort Worth, which would be our lunch stop. It was on that initial leg of the trip I heard my copilot/navigator mumble, "It's Africa hot in here." While it was funny the first time, by the fifteenth time the desperation in his voice made it even funnier. The problem was, he wasn't exaggerating; it was miserably hot and humid.
Because time was tight when we left San Antonio, we elected to merely stuff a duct hose from the air conditioner in between the legs of the steering column drop rather than install proper outlets. But not far out of town, with the thermometer well into the triple digits, I discovered the vent hose would stretch enough that it could be stuffed under my T-shirt. The look of relief on my face prompted Nick to dig out a scrap of vent hose and duct tape from behind the seat and fashion his personal A/C vent. He claims he put it up the leg of his shorts because that's all the hose we had. I didn't pursue the matter, but we were both a lot more comfortable, despite some of the off-color remarks made by our traveling companions.
After a tour of the new Painless facility, we pointed the '33 towards McAlester, Oklahoma, or so we thought. Seeing the same road signs three different times convinced us we had entered the twilight zone of freeway interchanges. If it wasn't for our trusty cell phone and Rick's navigational skills we'd still be orbiting somewhere in Texas.
Day two found us heading to Darryl Starbird's Rod and Custom museum in Afton, Oklahoma. On the way, every cloud in the sky emptied and the topless '33 seemed to be the target. Clad in the best trash bags Smart & Final has to offer, we stayed dry at speed, but when we slowed for any reason it was like being in an upholstered shower stall. Of course stopping at a red light is where we really got drenched, which seemed to delight the family in a steamer-size SUV next to us (all of whom were pointing, laughing, and taking pictures). It was during this portion of the trip we also learned that when water finds its way into a halogen headlight the bulb doesn't just fail, it explodes.