Not Thursday, Not Gruber's
In the 1950's there was a young fella who lived in a nearby state. Like many his age he was bitten by the hot rod bug. Rather than just looking at magazines he went out and got a 1932 Ford roadster. Over time he modified it with a later flathead engine, juice brakes and a passel of gauges. Oh, it was a fine hot rod for it's time. Eventually the young man wanted more power. He bought a Buick nailhead V8. He, probably along with some buddies, pulled the roadster apart and started installing the big V8. But, they couldn't fit the engine in. They lacked knowledge and experience. And being in the Midwest, not exactly the hot bed of hot rodding, there was no help to be had. The roadster sat. And sat, And sat.
The boy became a man. The man became a father. The father became an old man. Still the roadster sat. For 50 years
The old man heard about my friend, a young guy with a passion for traditional hot rods. He delivered the roadster to my friend who returned the flathead to its rightful home, fixed a lot of stuff suffering from the years of neglect and returned the little black Deuce. He made a open offer to buy the roadster if the gentleman ever wanted to sell.
Some years went by. The old man passed away. The children had little interest in this survivor.
They contacted my friend, The deal was made. It now belongs to Jeff.