PROLOGUE:
It was early May. The posting on the MTFCA web site said that Ralph (RD) Ricks was running the Yellow Peril in The History Channel Great Race, and that anyone who wanted to show up and help work on the car was more than welcome; Ralph would even supply the coveralls.
I'd seen the Great Race when it stopped in Dayton for lunch in 1986. I got to run my fingers through the crew initials carved into the fender of the 1908 Thomas Flyer that won the '08 New York to Paris race. Now, someone was offering a chance to work on a vintage race car. The message went back to Ralph, that I'd be there if it was possible.
June 15, 2000
It wasn't until the last minute that I figured I could afford the trip (full-time college student, part-time job, no-time money), but as soon as ye olde paycheck was cashed, I headed for Noblesville IN and a meeting with RD Ricks, John Foley, #77 (aka The Yellow Peril) and a triple boatload of really nice people.
Noblesville was absolutely jammed. The center of town had been blocked off, local bands were playing, and wheeled vehicles of every description were everywhere -- even a steam locomotive!!
I quickly found #77 in the display area, and figured that at least one of the sun- and windburned bodies sitting on the curb had to be the crew. Sure enough, I stuck my hand out to Ralph (I cheated; he had his name tag on) and said that he was the one I'd come over to see. Even though we'd never met, he remembered my name from the forum posting. Introductions were made all around (the other one who looked like a refugee from a blast furnace was John Foley, navigator par excellence).
We spent an hour or so talking cars and commenting on the automobiles scattered all over. A running Stanley Steamer, a restored WWII Jeep, Andy Granatelli's Rocket Car, late 40's fire engines, speedsters of every vintage and description -- I soon despaired of only having 27 shots in the disposable camera.
This is #86, a Model A speedster. The photo's a bit dim, but it does show what looked to be the wildest paint job in the Noblesville exhibition area.
The Great Race is actually a time-speed-distance rally, not a flat-out race. The distances are carefully measured, and at given speeds the travel time is calculated. At checkpoints, the arrival time is recorded, and penalty points are given for being early or late. The points are cumulative (once you've got them, you're stuck with them). Low score (the closest to perfect on-time) wins. I'd been rallying in Dayton for almost 25 years and was very familiar with the procedure, so John and I traded a war story or two while Ralph signed autographs and entertained the crowd. #77, Ralph, and John were very popular.
After the exhibition was over, the boys headed for their hotel in Indianapolis and some soothing rest. Unfortunately, they weren't to get a whole lot. The car needed lots of work. I don't own a T, and had never worked on one. Ralph asked what my experience was, and my reply was, "I can spell T - that's about it."
There was a nasty low-speed shimmy in the front end, and Ralph tracked it to some slop in the steering arm where it bolted to the left hub. I popped the castle nut, and we could see where the bushing in the hub was worn. Ralph dug out some rear axle shim stock, and we trimmed out pieces to line the bushing. During this process, Ralph had to run up to his room for about 10 minutes, and I said I'd stop until he got back so he could inspect the work. He told me it was OK, just keep going and bolt it all back together -- and he walked off, leaving me with my jaw in my lap. Ol' Ralph's a trusting soul; I must talk to him about this land I have for sale down in Florida...
My first wrench job on a T. Note the removed castle nut on the steering linkage into the hub. Some bushings were cobbled out of rear axle shim stock to eliminate a low-speed shimmy.
A bit later, their shared support crew arrived, the crew for car #108, a 1948 Dodge being run by students and faculty from Kearney High School in Kearney, Nebraska. The Great Race allows schools to run in X-class (no entry fee, so everyone helps out with assisting other cars and the event staff). It looked like something out of Gasoline Alley -- the car was surrounded by enthusiastic young folks and their faculty advisor, and they swarmed over the car like hungry locusts on a wheatfield. Me? I realized quickly that these kids knew the car inside and out (they were the bunch that installed a new engine after the original blew outside of Boston on the first day), and I was there strictly as spare hands and muscle. One little job that needed doing was pounding the snot out of the crank with a small sledge hammer to straighten it again (seems RD had tried to crank it earlier in the day and forgot to retard the spark...can you say 'kick back', boys and girls?)
The evening progressed -- wheel bearings, hogshead cover gaskets, brake bleeding, oil leaks, speedometer mount repairs, conversations about what can we cobble together to adapt that to this, war stories, education about T's -- it was the most pleasant of times. John had decided by now (about 1:00 AM) that discretion was the better part of valor, and had called it a night. Seeing as he was responsible for all the map reading and time calculations, the idea of having several consecutive brain cells the next day had merit.
Finally the Yellow Peril was ready to start up. Ralph looked at the four of us on hand at the time and asked who wanted to crank her over. Now this was the opportunity of a lifetime -- I'd always wanted to crank start a T. Ralph showed me how it was done. I reached down, took a two-handed grip, and pulled for all I was worth. Oh my lord, it started...it really started. The other three also got their turn to crank #77 over. Four red-blooded American motorheads got to crank start a T for the first time...the weather bureau and the EPA are still puzzled about that sudden cloud of testosterone fumes that showed up on their monitors that night.
It was time for a test drive. Ralph asked who wanted to go along, and the other three graciously pointed to me. I crawled in and plopped down in John's bucket seat, quickly discovering that my bucket and John's were not the same size. OK, the seat belt won't fit (four of Mr. Foley make one of me), so I pulled the goggles over my glasses, braced myself on the floorboard and running board, and got a death grip on the belt. With a graunch of low gear we were off.
The first thing I discovered were the relationships between center of gravity and moment of inertia. I was sure glad I had ahold of that belt, especially on left turns. The next thing was that even with a carb that needs adjustment, a T speedster can sh*t and git! Wow, this thing's better off the line than my car!
I won't even try to describe the ride...the first time in a T, an unmuffled Fronty powered speedster at that, roaring through the Indiana moonlight...darn goggles wouldn't let me grin big enough.
After we got back, a few more things were checked and discussed. At about 2:30, RD said he'd had enough for one day, and the rest of the repairs were minor and could wait. Everyone shook hands and we all went our separate ways. Throw in a time zone change and a 100 mile drive, and I was home in bed asleep by 7:30 AM.
EPILOGUE (Saturday, June 17, 2000):
Oh, I hurt. I used muscles I didn't know I had crawling around the parking lot the other night. I had to help a friend move today, and wouldn't you know it, he lives up three flights of stairs and it's my legs that are constantly reminding me of the abuse I inflicted on them somehow.
I don't care. Every twinge reminds me of the night I finally got to overdose on T.
To Ralph Ricks and John Foley of #77, and to John Jacobson, Andy Widman, Brett Hopkins and the Kearney HS crew of #108, thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn't have missed this one for the world.
Yep, it's a T. Even the spare's leaking oil...
Charlie Cotterman
#77 in the exhibition area in Noblesville, Indiana. Each spot in the parking area was sponsored by a local business.
Here they are, in all their costumed glory. Left to right, navigator John Foley and driver Ralph Ricks.
Part of the support crew for X-class car #108, a 1948 Dodge. These are the young men that helped with the engine change the first night, when a wrist pin seized and cracked the block. Left to right, John Jacobsen, Andy Widman, and Brett Hopkins. This shot was taken well after midnight in Indianapolis, after they'd spent several hours working on #77 along with the rest of #108's support crew. Their clothes tell the story.