Regardless of what our significant others may say, we, as street rodders, are hopeless romantics. We devote years of our lives to the pursuit of the often-unattainable visions that circulate through our dense brains. Dreams of what can be or will be keep us out in the garage for what must seem to neighbors an incalculable number of hours, and often force us to substitute a warm dinner in front of the television for a couple of cool canned sandwiches between grinding sessions. The worst part of our condition, or so I've been told, is that completion of our goals is seldom accompanied by a lasting sense of fulfillment. To most people, the word "complete" means "to bring to a finish or an end," but for people like us, a more accurate definition may be "I'm bored." Although Betsy's first journey out of the driveway under her own power is the big payoff for all those bloody knuckles and fits of frustration, tinkering with cars has always been as much about the process as it has the results.
Although many people base their success or failure exclusively on an end product, the brains of street rodders are simply wired differently than those of other people. In much the same way that men, when asked a question, typically reply, "I think ...," and women reply, "I feel ...," street rodders have decidedly unique perspectives on life. A 15-minute detour to avoid a couple of speed bumps is wholly justifiable; and reliability, comfort, and fuel-efficiency are on our list of concerns, but just not at the top. Our concerns begin with craftsmanship and ingenuity, and in most cases we don't care whether it's found in a Beetle or a Bentley. Our hobby is one of the last labor industries that still believes in, and rewards, the notion that if store-bought is good, then handmade is better. We live by the motto: "If you can dream it, you can build it," which can also be translated as: "If you can dream it, you can hire someone more capable than yourself to do it for you."
So what do you do when you want a special, one-of-a-kind valance for your '32 and there is no Yoder or Power in your hammer? It just so happens that the Yoder at Steve's Auto Restorations (SAR) in Portland, Oregon, is in perfect working condition, and they recently completed just such a project. SAR has built a solid reputation for expert metal fabrication by shaping everything from roll pans and headlights to complete bodies. The recipient of the valance is a '32 roadster undergoing a complete build at SAR that draws heavily from the early days of the dry lakes with a hint of European flair. The owner wanted a car that was simple and subtle, but also distinct. A custom valance presented a terrific opportunity to be creative without being obtrusive.