My family was never into cars, they were transportation and nothing else.
So it seems ironic that through my Grandmother, who thought going the speed
limit was too fast I should get introduced to racing. She always bought her
cars from Pat, the owner of Ronco Rambler. He was about 10 years younger than
her, and when she needed a car, she called Pat, he told her what she needed, and
she went to the bank and brought him cash. He also was the person she called
when her car wouldn’t start, or she needed help. She trusted him because he was
trustworthy, and many a time I went by his dealership with her. Pat always had
overalls over his street clothes, a stogie hanging from his mouth, and had many
things going on at once. But it always seemed we ended up in the back of the
garage, where his race cars were kept. From 1953-1978 Pat tore up the Nazareth
dirt tracks in R-12, a Nash, then a Rambler. In these pre-Andretti days, he
ruled the tracks, and his cars were my first experience with racing. They were
old jalopies to the untrained eye, to me they were cool. Race cars. And Pat
always took time to tell me about them, a big deal to an 8 year old in an adult
world. I later found out Pat was also in the Indian Motorcycle Hall of Fame in
Springfield, Massachusetts, he had won the AMA title for hillclimbs in 1937, if
only my Grandma knew she was dealing with such a character of ill repute. But
he was cars to her, Nash and Rambler were the cars, and rain or snow, no matter
the call, he answered when she called. What I would give for one more trip back
to Ronco Rambler and to see R-12, to smell the hi octane racing gas, he was a
Sunoco dealer, sold 260 at the pump, to smell the grease and oil, to see the
girly calendars in the office, and listen to Pat tell about racing. At one time
these shops were America, a far cry from the 53 technician Mercedes Benz
dealership I used to work at. Times change, but so do the people?
I first came upon Tom’s Pit Stop after it had moved across Route 22 to the
east bound lane. A small non-descript building, with a small driveway to exit
or enter, the screech of brakes and tires was often heard just getting to the
place. Route 22 was the busiest road in the US of A at the time, and Tom’s was
on it. While others had SS396, Olds 442’s, or Mustangs, I had a 1969 BMW 1600,
called the best sedan in the world and the car that put BMW on the map so all
the yuppies could have one, not knowing how good a car they were at one time.
But Tom’s worked on all foreign cars, from Alfa, to Lotus, TVR’s, Austin
Healeys, MG’s, and many other lesser brands. Sports cars. And we were welcome,
as in most race oriented shops we were, and would stop by. We were treated as
equals, as equal as we could be, and talked cars. A sort of Ronco Rambler for
the sports car crowd, Tom tells of how he became a TVR dealer. TVR’s were made
in England by Trevor Wilkinson, a small, lightweight car with a fibreglass
body. And in the late sixties put a Ford 302 in them, making them the fastest
thing around. They weighed about 1500 pounds with a tubular frame, and Bouke
had one, it would wheelie. But as most sports cars of the time they spent too
much time in the shop, which meant Tom’s. But how he became a dealer was
interesting. He had a reputation in racing, and had helped a man who owned
one. It later turned out he was the US distributor, and showed up one day with
serial number 001, Vixen, a new car. Tom bought it, became a dealer, and the
man went out and hitchhiked back to Long Island. He later took on Lotus,
insuring his service department would always be busy. We need more Tom’s out
there....
Like when my Dad who didn’t like cars bought a BMW from Markham Motors.
His car was always referred to as Mr. Mohn’s car, never needing any further
description. And Charley Markham gave me a ride once in a new 1974 Mercedes
Benz 450SL, and went over 100 mph in it. If only my father knew...but I am sure
these businesses are still out there, and I always seem to find one or two when
on a road trip.
Last week was Coronado Speed Week at North Island. A huge car show of cars
I remember from Tom’s. Anything from retired NASCAR racers, to Trans Am
Mustangs, open wheeled race cars, sports cars, Porsches, and vintage pre-WWII
cars. But to me the show was on the track, as all day the races went off every
20 minutes. With the best yet to come after lunch, wandering through the pits.
Already intoxicated by the smell of racing fuel, Castrol Racing Castor, and
burning rubber, the pits took me back 45 years. Seeing the cars being prepped
for the next race, watching as the comraderie between racers took place, and
seeing how it used to be, I found it still was. The racing was great, the cars
better, but for me life was in the pits. And as I stopped to look at
Offenhauser engines, vintage racing Porsches and Corvettes, real NASCAR race
cars that were stock, the SC in NASCAR stands for Stock Car, and seeing things I
only read about, they were still there. And what a rush when a man let me sit
in his 1916 National racer, and work the clutch. The wooden wheel worn smooth,
it was as if it was polished. What a car.....and the last race was the open
class for Trans Am racers, with all cars older than 1979. As the cars passed me
the names of Jerry Titus, Parnelli Jones, Dan Gurney, and many others flashed
before me. And for one brief moment, I was back at Tom’s, a kid at Pat’s and
all was right with the world. I wonder how many friends or business associates,
let alone customers of these gentlemen racing knew of their dubious background?
Men that never grew up as they got older...not any faster, yet still
racing.
After the crucifixion of Jesus we have two men come into the picture,
strangers to each other. Maybe they knew of each other, but that day they would
form a bond and become a team of sorts. With much to lose, in fact everything
for what they were about to do. Nicodemus as we find in John 3 is told by Jesus
he must be born again to enter the kingdom of God. He questions it from a
physical perspective, and some 20 chapters later shows up to claim the body of
Jesus. Buying the expensive embalming spices, he is about to risk everything,
social, financial, and spiritual to claim the body. Even willing to touch it,
which was a huge sin among the Jews, you didn’t touch anything, let anyone
dead. But his spirit had been touched, he had become born again, and knew what
he was to do. And nothing else mattered to him, but his Lord and Savior. But
who should he meet there, but one Joseph of Arimithea, a rich man who owned an
unused tomb. Described as a silent Christian, he would meet Nicky, and the two
would have to trust each other. For they both had much to lose, but in the
spirit they had everything to gain. Two silent Christians, who when the spirit
called responded, and were blessed. A few verses in the gospel, and today their
legacy lives on. The legacy of silent Christians.
Now it is easy to boast for some of how they live for Christ, and love the
adulation. But harder, or so it would seem for many to live quiet peaceful
lives with Jesus. It is in them we find a strength, a vessel in which the
spirit lives, and they don’t have to brag, for God knows. Just like Pat they
take the time for what is needed, it is who they are, and how they are. Meeting
needs without considering the potential outcomes. If it needs fixing, fix it,
like he did, still in late seventies starting my Grandma’s car in the bitter
cold. How many late dinners or cold meals Pat had was never recorded, he was a
friend to all in need. Tom in his own way took in those of us not normal, who
drove sports cars, who didn’t mind the smell of grease and oil, and whose
handshake, when needed was his bond. To both men, their yes meant yes, more
than any other form of contact.
And so it was with Nick and Joe, who formed a contact and a contract with
Jesus, after his death. Via the spirit, the same as us. Maybe an example we
overlook, while we are too busy with church business, raising funds, or
attending studies. For them the show is what counts, for those in the spirit it
is all about Jesus. It is a relationship that goes beyond words, it is like the
smells and race cars of last weekend, one of memories you wish you could live
again, but know they were for a certain place in time. And Jesus makes himself
available today, for that could be the time you meet him. Nick and Joe came for
the body, via the spirit, the same is true today. The empty tomb proving Jesus
is who he says he is, but it is the spirit that gives life. Nick and Joe knew,
do you?
God gives us all the opportunities everyday to be like Pat or Tom, to help
those in need. Or even like Nick and Joe, but it is the spirit driving us. And
doing it to the least, knowing you are doing it for Jesus, to Jesus. Many are
competitors on the track of life, but when needed give all if needed. A small
thing to those giving, a big thing to those receiving. One day at the races
took me back 50 years and reminded me of the life Jesus has given me. My
Grandma knew to call Pat, who do you call?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com