rust lover
Bleeds rust
Telltale Skirts
by Domenic Tringali
At twelve years old, I started buying every hot rod or custom magazine I could get my hands on. I was destined to grow up being a motor head or whatever your personal term for a lover of cars might be. My father was one and my older brother was falling right in step, as well. Again, it was my destiny. I would have felt the same way regardless of family, though. I just always loved cars!
My brother started building hot rods at age 15 in our back yard and we have both made a lifetime of building and playing with old iron. It was in the old man’s DNA and he passed those strong genes to us. He was also in the plumbing business and by age 16, I was working in his shop, so I have always had the mindset of how to make things fit and work.
All of my friends were car guys, too, and so I was always around cars and people were always bringing me cars. One such car is the theme of this story. It started out with a blaring horn coming through my bedroom window one morning from the driveway, waking me from a deep slumber and dreams of bare metal, welders, paint and upholstery. Isn’t that what everyone dreams about?
The horn was coming from a 1955 Chevrolet that had been given to a friend by his brother’s widow. They had driven for two days from Texas to New England and needed money more than they needed the car. He offered it to me for $500. The car was in bad shape. There was no interior, other than the driver’s seat and the only paint on the car was a gray primer. The three speed floor shifter needed bushings, but the 265cid V8 purred like a kitten. It ran like a brand new car. I gave him cash.
My brother, Rich, and I got right to it and by the end of two months we had the car as straight as an arrow and painted a rich light blue. The interior was completely custom with custom seats and both the headliner and rug done in a rich blue fur. The Moon steering wheel and chrome record player completed the interior.
http://youtu.be/Xa0dhooXUC4
by Domenic Tringali
At twelve years old, I started buying every hot rod or custom magazine I could get my hands on. I was destined to grow up being a motor head or whatever your personal term for a lover of cars might be. My father was one and my older brother was falling right in step, as well. Again, it was my destiny. I would have felt the same way regardless of family, though. I just always loved cars!
My brother started building hot rods at age 15 in our back yard and we have both made a lifetime of building and playing with old iron. It was in the old man’s DNA and he passed those strong genes to us. He was also in the plumbing business and by age 16, I was working in his shop, so I have always had the mindset of how to make things fit and work.
All of my friends were car guys, too, and so I was always around cars and people were always bringing me cars. One such car is the theme of this story. It started out with a blaring horn coming through my bedroom window one morning from the driveway, waking me from a deep slumber and dreams of bare metal, welders, paint and upholstery. Isn’t that what everyone dreams about?
The horn was coming from a 1955 Chevrolet that had been given to a friend by his brother’s widow. They had driven for two days from Texas to New England and needed money more than they needed the car. He offered it to me for $500. The car was in bad shape. There was no interior, other than the driver’s seat and the only paint on the car was a gray primer. The three speed floor shifter needed bushings, but the 265cid V8 purred like a kitten. It ran like a brand new car. I gave him cash.
My brother, Rich, and I got right to it and by the end of two months we had the car as straight as an arrow and painted a rich light blue. The interior was completely custom with custom seats and both the headliner and rug done in a rich blue fur. The Moon steering wheel and chrome record player completed the interior.
http://youtu.be/Xa0dhooXUC4
