Since Dennis likes to "look for junk," they decided to take the scenic route to California. The rear seat area was soon filled "with antiques and stuff as we went, shipping things home when we got too full," he said. "After Oklahoma, all the good places were gone, so we made a beeline for home. The only changes we've made were to substitute adjustable (and stiffer) '36 lever-action shocks for the '33s."

With 18,000 miles and one worn-out set of tires behind him, Dennis plans even more "chingos" (trips) to far-flung billet proof-style events. "It's that kind of ride," he said. As for the Rolling Bones team, Dennis had nothing but positive things to say. "These guys are genuinely honest," he said. "They just want to build their style of car. People think it's an old hot rod. If you like it, and I do, nobody does it better." Confession time: SRM Editor Brian Brennan wanted me to write this piece as a semi-tech feature, so readers could build a hot rod like this. Sorry, the ocean doesn't give up her secrets, and neither do Ken and Keith. Ken is clear on one thing: "Anybody can make something look dirty. It takes an artist to make something look old.

"Great hot rods are works of art," Ken told me at York last year. "Just like a painting, when you look at it, a great hot rod will tell you enough if its story to grab your emotions, and let your imagination take you as far and as fast as you want to go. We build stories, in the Rolling Bones hot rod style, one at a time."

Rolling Bones' latest project is a seriously whacked '33 three-window with a track nose for George Poteet. We've seen this car, and it takes up where the Pierson Bros. coupe left off. It's being built in a barn that resembles the interior of an old hot rod shop out of the late '40s. There are stacks of '32 frames, grille shells, gennie firewalls, springs, and wishbones just waiting for someone else who wants a no-excuses, bare-bones, time-warp kind of car.