The Timber Taxi, #79, in the '97 Great American Race
1946 Chrysler Town & Country Convertible
Route Taken in 1997
We continued our sojourn on Route 50 until we got to Stillwater and then on to Fallon and connected with Interstate 80 on to Reno. We kept noticing that we were overheating and losing water and had to continually add water to the radiator. That was a difficult thing to do on Route 50 because there’s not much water around. Highway 50 is appropriately named “the Loneliest Highway in the United States.” Signs of life appeared immediately upon entering Interstate 80. We stopped at Reno, spent a wonderful afternoon at the casinos, consuming the buffets and playing the tables. We then went onto Sacramento and then to Santa Rosa where we signed in for the race.
Santa Rosa is a beautiful little old California town with lots of history. There was an inordinate amount of hustle and bustle because of all the cars signing in for the Great Race. We got there three days ahead of time because we knew that we would have some difficulty passing the automobile inspection. Fortunately the chief inspector was a Shriner and he went over the car and gave us a list of things that we had to replace or repair. We had to put seatbelts in the car and adjust the speedometer. Speedometers are permitted but odometers are taboo. The inspectors placed a black tape over the odometer but our speedometer was off by several miles and it took awhile for us to get that adjusted. We finally got the seatbelts in place and we went to one of the orientation afternoons.
Finally the day came to start the race. Marshaling all the cars for the first time was extremely hectic. We left Santa Rosa on Saturday, June 21, 1997 on the way to Fresno, California for an overnight stop. We were having trouble with the car and we weren’t sure what the real problem was. We thought that there was a problem with the radiator or one of the hoses but that’s not what turned out to be. In Fresno we went to Bakersfield for lunch and then went on to Barstow, California for an overnight stop. The people in Barstow were very good to us. The entire Chamber of Commerce was there to meet us when we came in and we told them we needed a garage with a lift so that we could check out our car.
The people from the Firestone agency volunteered their entire garage for as long as we needed it. After dinner we drove over to the garage and lo and behold we diagnosed that we had a blown head gasket. The problem of course is ‘where do you get a head gasket for an automobile of that vintage? We called Egge, a known supplier of antique auto parts, and kept our fingers crossed while they searched their inventory. Dame Fortune was with us that day, and they had just what we needed. It was late in the day but someone offered to drive us to Los Angeles the next morning to get our supplies. Petrox went to get the head gasket and I stayed in Barstow to dismantle the head from the block. It was a six or seven hour round-trip and by the time he got back it was late in the day.
The Great Racers had already left for St. George, Utah early that morning and we were forced to take one of our two no-shows because we couldn’t get the car ready in time. We spent the better part of the evening putting the head gasket on and making sure that all was ready to depart. We thanked everyone at the Firestone station, bought dinner for those who helped us and then we took off for St. George, Utah. We traveled east across California and around one o’clock in the morning I saw bright lights on the horizon. The instant we crossed the state line into Nevada the highway became a giant casino.
We pulled into the parking lot and of course whent in for a trip to the always open grill room for something to eat. I remember Petrox played Keno and won $64. Then of course we had to take a trip to the crap table where we did even better. I don’t remember the exact amount; I think it was close to $300. When we went back to the car we found the battery completely dead and the car would not start. There was a big 18 wheeler parked near us in the driver was interested in our car. He told us he would provide a jump from his truck and the cables came out, but when we hooked them up there was an immediate flash of sparks because we had the cables hooked on backwards. Smoke came out of the generator and starter. When we finally got the cables hooked up directly the car started but we realized that the generator was fried.
We were not that far from Las Vegas so we decided to run on battery alone. We drove into Las Vegas at about six o’clock in the morning and went directly to a Wal-Mart. I ran in and bought two 12 V batteries fully charged. We put a fresh one in the car and then proceeded to go to St. George, Utah as fast as we could. We had to get to St. George in time to get in line for the next leg of the road rally.
We arrived just as the last cars were pulling out and Mr. Ted Classon, a nasty man when in his good days, refused to give us the directions for that day’s run because we were late and out of numerical order for the departure. We complained that we were struggling for 24 hours to get the car right and we still had a problem because we had no generator and had to run on battery to supply the spark. He couldn’t care less and told us that we were out of the race. His wife walked up to him, snatched a set of directions from his hands, and said “Ted, for heaven sakes let them go.” With that we took off for lunch at Page, Arizona and then overnight in Farmington, New Mexico.
We pulled into the parking lot and of course whent in for a trip to the always open grill room for something to eat. I remember Petrox played Keno and won $64. Then of course we had to take a trip to the crap table where we did even better. I don’t remember the exact amount; I think it was close to $300. When we went back to the car we found the battery completely dead and the car would not start. There was a big 18 wheeler parked near us in the driver was interested in our car. He told us he would provide a jump from his truck and the cables came out, but when we hooked them up there was an immediate flash of sparks because we had the cables hooked on backwards. Smoke came out of the generator and starter. When we finally got the cables hooked up directly the car started but we realized that the generator was fried.
We were not that far from Las Vegas so we decided to run on battery alone. We drove into Las Vegas at about six o’clock in the morning and went directly to a Wal-Mart. I ran in and bought two 12 V batteries fully charged. We put a fresh one in the car and then proceeded to go to St. George, Utah as fast as we could. We had to get to St. George in time to get in line for the next leg of the road rally.
We arrived just as the last cars were pulling out and Mr. Ted Classon, a nasty man when in his good days, refused to give us the directions for that day’s run because we were late and out of numerical order for the departure. We complained that we were struggling for 24 hours to get the car right and we still had a problem because we had no generator and had to run on battery to supply the spark. He couldn’t care less and told us that we were out of the race. His wife walked up to him, snatched a set of directions from his hands, and said “Ted, for heaven sakes let them go.” With that we took off for lunch at Page, Arizona and then overnight in Farmington, New Mexico.
When we got to Farmington we asked the announcer to put out a request for anyone in the town who might have access to a six V generator we could adapt to our car. Within two hours a tall man wearing coveralls with one strap over his shoulder, looking like Ichabod Crane, came up to us with something wrapped in a burlap sack that looked like it came out of a chicken coop. Sure enough, it was a 6 V generator. We took it to an electrical shop that opened for us. By midnight the generator was back in our car and working reasonably well. We had three batteries at that time so we made sure that they were all well charged, thanked everyone profusely and took off the next morning for Clovis, New Mexico.
Every overnight stop was a real hoot. The entire city turned out and people were so generous and anxious to be helpful. At each overnight stop they had arranged some of the locals to act as hosts for each car. The host would have a sumptuous meal prepared for the driver and navigator and we had a wonderful time at each overnight. Next up was Granberry, Texas, the home of Tom McRae and of course it was special night. You couldn’t ask for more hospitality and the Texas barbecue that they prepared was spectacular.
Every overnight stop was a real hoot. The entire city turned out and people were so generous and anxious to be helpful. At each overnight stop they had arranged some of the locals to act as hosts for each car. The host would have a sumptuous meal prepared for the driver and navigator and we had a wonderful time at each overnight. Next up was Granberry, Texas, the home of Tom McRae and of course it was special night. You couldn’t ask for more hospitality and the Texas barbecue that they prepared was spectacular.
The car was running well and the next evening when we pulled into Norman, Oklahoma to check through the timing date, we were stopped by Mr. Classon who scowled at us. I was sitting in the navigator’s side of the car and asked him what was wrong. He scowled at me and handed me an envelope. When I opened the envelope it contained an award for finishing that leg of the days run with perfect time. We aced the time clock, had no idea how we did it but we gloried in placing the decal on the side of the car.
A little more than midway through the trip there is a day of rest. It occurred in Evansville, Indiana where we were supposed to spend two days resting but instead we found a garage and worked on the car. I say we worked on the car but that’s not quite accurate. Petrox did most of the work and I handed him the tools. That bit was the cause of some rancor. Petrox had a tool bag that looked like it was one of the carpet bags used after the Civil War. He had every type of wrench, screwdriver, socket and ratchet piled helter-skelter into the bag. Rooting through the bag trying to find something was like a blind man in a dark room looking for a black hat that wasn’t there. Every time we worked on the car I just dumped all the tools on the floor because it made it easier to find what I was looking for.
A little more than midway through the trip there is a day of rest. It occurred in Evansville, Indiana where we were supposed to spend two days resting but instead we found a garage and worked on the car. I say we worked on the car but that’s not quite accurate. Petrox did most of the work and I handed him the tools. That bit was the cause of some rancor. Petrox had a tool bag that looked like it was one of the carpet bags used after the Civil War. He had every type of wrench, screwdriver, socket and ratchet piled helter-skelter into the bag. Rooting through the bag trying to find something was like a blind man in a dark room looking for a black hat that wasn’t there. Every time we worked on the car I just dumped all the tools on the floor because it made it easier to find what I was looking for.
While in Evansville, Janice and Alice Petrocy came to spend the day with us. The crowds that gather around the antique automobiles of the great race have to be seen to be appreciated. The crowds are huge and no matter how tired or fatigued you might be; you must be generous with your time and be pleasant with the people who keep asking questions. The questions are the same day after day after day and there are always a number of people who tell you that their father or their uncle or someone in their family had a car just like that when they were growing up.
We were on our way to Knoxville Tennessee one afternoon when a front tire blew out. It took us a decent hour and a half to get the car jacked up in the tire changed and we were late getting home. And the generator went out again; we blew the generator 6 times during the trip. Each time we had it repaired it lasted a few hundred miles and blew the brushes again.
The next few days were the last days of the trip and we arrived in Jacksonville, Florida on the fourth of July. The evening was a spectacular event. It seemed like everyone in the city of Jacksonville came out to see the cars, listen to the music and participate in the fireworks on the fourth of July celebration. We completed the entire run from Santa Rosa to Jacksonville, received our medallion attesting to the fact that we were a bona fide finisher and went to the cocktail party and banquet that followed.
We were on our way to Knoxville Tennessee one afternoon when a front tire blew out. It took us a decent hour and a half to get the car jacked up in the tire changed and we were late getting home. And the generator went out again; we blew the generator 6 times during the trip. Each time we had it repaired it lasted a few hundred miles and blew the brushes again.
The next few days were the last days of the trip and we arrived in Jacksonville, Florida on the fourth of July. The evening was a spectacular event. It seemed like everyone in the city of Jacksonville came out to see the cars, listen to the music and participate in the fireworks on the fourth of July celebration. We completed the entire run from Santa Rosa to Jacksonville, received our medallion attesting to the fact that we were a bona fide finisher and went to the cocktail party and banquet that followed.
We left Jacksonville the next morning and went down to Daytona Beach to spend a few days at my house on the beach. While we were there, we had the generator repaired once again. Several days later we started north for Detroit. We stopped in Tennessee to spend a few days with Frank and Wanda Gillam. What I remember most about that stop was the fabulous tasting “White Lightning” that they had and the breakfast she prepared the next morning. I have never had such an enormous breakfast at any one place. She served bacon and eggs, pork chops, sausage, homemade biscuits with sausage gravy, candied apples and hash browns. It was the most sumptuous breakfast one could imagine. We left and had another breakdown halfway to Detroit. Once again it was a generator. We were on an exit off the interstate on mountaintop in at least 25 miles from the nearest town. We removed the generator and the cashier inside the gas station told us to take her car and drive into town and get it fixed. I was amazed at the generosity and trust. I told Petrox that it would not likely happen in Detroit. We got the generator functioning again, put it back in the car and drove off to Detroit.
When I look back on the trip it was close to 30 days across country in the Chrysler Town and Country. Considering that we drove from Detroit to Santa Rosa, California, then cross country to Jacksonville, Florida, and then north back to Detroit, it was quite a road trip. The most meaningful commentary that I can make is that it’s something to do and once you start to do it you’re compelled to finish it. In all the time that we rode together, neither a bad word nor an ugly look passed between us. We got a little grumbly at times but we had a rollicking good time, albeit quite fatiguing.
The question arises “do I do it again?” The answer of course is a loud and resounding no. Three times on the great race is certainly enough for me and I think that once Petrox got it out of his system it was enough for him too.
We met some fine people along the way, one of whom is Marty Westland, who drove a 1931 model A Ford Sedan all the way from Bozeman, Montana to Santa Rosa and then cross country to Jacksonville and back again to Bozeman, Montana. We became very friendly with him along the way because each day he looked more and more like a grease monkey until by the end of the trip there was not a spot on his coveralls that didn’t have a patch of grease on it. He is a super engineer, a dear friend and an expert auto mechanic. He had that model A running like a sewing machine and each night he would be in it and under it making adjustments. He came in second for the rookie of the year award and we believe that he should’ve won the award hands-down.
As I said earlier we spent the day with Janice and Alice Petrocy in Evansville Indiana. We spent the lunch stop with Dave and Ann Sauers in Mount Vernon Illinois. When we pulled in for lunch Dave had two ice cold gin and tonic’s waiting for us. When we got to Detroit we immediately put the car in the garage, took the generator off and ordered an alternator to fit the car. We probably should have done it along the way but we didn’t know what to order or where to have it sent. As I write this today and am pretty sure that the car has an alternator and all the generator troubles are history
It was a wonderful trip; a difficult trip; one to be remembered.
I’m glad we did it.
The question arises “do I do it again?” The answer of course is a loud and resounding no. Three times on the great race is certainly enough for me and I think that once Petrox got it out of his system it was enough for him too.
We met some fine people along the way, one of whom is Marty Westland, who drove a 1931 model A Ford Sedan all the way from Bozeman, Montana to Santa Rosa and then cross country to Jacksonville and back again to Bozeman, Montana. We became very friendly with him along the way because each day he looked more and more like a grease monkey until by the end of the trip there was not a spot on his coveralls that didn’t have a patch of grease on it. He is a super engineer, a dear friend and an expert auto mechanic. He had that model A running like a sewing machine and each night he would be in it and under it making adjustments. He came in second for the rookie of the year award and we believe that he should’ve won the award hands-down.
As I said earlier we spent the day with Janice and Alice Petrocy in Evansville Indiana. We spent the lunch stop with Dave and Ann Sauers in Mount Vernon Illinois. When we pulled in for lunch Dave had two ice cold gin and tonic’s waiting for us. When we got to Detroit we immediately put the car in the garage, took the generator off and ordered an alternator to fit the car. We probably should have done it along the way but we didn’t know what to order or where to have it sent. As I write this today and am pretty sure that the car has an alternator and all the generator troubles are history
It was a wonderful trip; a difficult trip; one to be remembered.
I’m glad we did it.
