I’ve been interested in driving for as long as I can remember. My father regularly took me out on drives as a child. Going to the hardware store? Let’s take the long way! Too cold to play golf? Let’s go out for a drive and explore some twisty country roads! Mom and three sisters want to watch Sound of Music for the 14,000th time? You get the idea.
In about 1985, Dad started shopping for a new car. He involved me in the process from beginning to end. This turned out to be a foundational experience for me, as I observed (1) how to thoroughly research a major decision and (2) how to make a decision free from emotion. The former has turned out to be an extremely valuable skill. My astonishing lack of mastery of the latter, especially when it comes to cars, has turned out to be quite expensive, as you’ll read. In this particular case, “research” meant car magazines. I was hooked.
It wasn’t long before I was pouring through page after page of Petersen’s Kit Car Magazine, lusting after CMC ads. I had my ride all picked out: a black, wide body Speedster with a tan top / interior and a chromed roll bar. This was a total pipe dream, as I was only about 12 years old and there was no way my neighborhood lawn mowing / snow shoveling money would cover the cost of the donor, let alone the kit. I continued to read car magazines, fantasize about Speedsters, and hang exotic car posters on my wall throughout my teen years.
Fast forward to Summer 2007. I was earning a decent living, and beginning to think about settling down with my girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend -- I mean, wife). I figured it might be a good time for a last hurrah, as conversations with married guys indicated that major purchases tend to “go to committee” once the question gets popped. In a truly impulsive move (read: NOT free from emotion), I purchased a Ferrari replica with an LT-1 on eBay. I had a blast driving that thing around that summer. Perhaps not surprisingly, I ended up forming a pretty close relationship with a local mechanic.
One day, when visiting said mechanic, I was shocked to see my old dream car sitting there: a black, wide body, CMC Speedster. I asked if I could sit in it, assuming my 6’4” frame would never fit. Instead, it was roomier than my daily driver and far more spacious than the Ferrari replica. I said, “I am absolutely not in the market for another project car, but if this guy ever decides to sell, can you give me first look?” About a year later, I got the call. The owner, a Cleveland-area cop, decided to put it on the market. The mechanic offered it to me for something like $7,000, and I (uncharacteristically) didn’t even bother to make a counter-offer. Again, decidedly not free from emotion.
I spent the next year working with the mechanic to make that car perfect – in secret, I should mention – because my plan was to surprise my fiancÉ with it and drive from our wedding ceremony at the church to our reception in our pristine Speedster. I kept it in Cleveland during the restoration process, then it spent a summer in Atlanta with me for flogging and tuning, and eventually it ended up in top secret storage at my parents’ home in Southwest Florida. The weekend before I left to spend the Spring with my fiancÉ in Pittsburgh, I drove it across the state and back while visiting a dear friend and fellow car nut in Miami. For the last time, as it turned out…
Alligator Alley is the only east-west road in South Florida, as the middle of the state is the Everglades. After traveling west, on my way back, for about two hours, I thought I smelled something funny. So I did what anyone would do: I lit a cigarette, turned up the stereo, and drove faster… Just kidding. I figured I’d better pull over to explore, but as I slowed to about 45 mph, the cabin filled up with smoke and I knew I was in deep trouble: my fire extinguisher was sitting 60 miles away in my folks’ garage.
My mexi-crate 1600cc engine had developed an oil leak over the course of the drive (~3 hours each way at the redline, and likely in need of a valve adjustment). The hot oil was dripping onto the spray-on insulation which buffered the frame and body from noise/vibration/harshness. In addition to “Never drive your car without a fire extinguisher,” and “Never take a long road trip without ensuring your engine is properly tuned,” I learned something new: “Fire-retardant” insulation is not the same as “fire-proof.”
The police shut down both sides of the highway while the flames raged. I watched in horror as each tire exploded from the heat-induced pressure. At one point, the engine roared to life as the fuel in the cylinders ignited. It was like having my guts ripped out before my eyes. It took the firemen about 10 minutes to winch the burnt frame, engine block, and four wheels onto the flat bed, and another 25 minutes to shovel up the rest of the “car.”
My fiancÉ knew something was wrong. Usually a pretty upbeat guy, I moped around her house for a few weeks before she sat me down to ask, “Just what the heck is wrong?” I had to come clean. She was in a state of disbelief as I described the weekends of troubleshooting, the fun cruises, and the plan to surprise her on her wedding day. I wanted to cry. Although I received full payment from Hagerty for the car, wedding expenses were piling up, and my business was slowing down… It just didn’t make sense to replace it. But “not now” is not the same as “never.”
With my business back on track, and our lives reasonably settled in Southern California, we plunked down the deposit for our no-holds-barred, sky’s the limit, dream Speedster from JPS Motorsports at the end of 2012. We went with a Suby, because the idea of reliving oil leaks and engine fires was too much for me to bear (and also, after the first iteration with ~60hp, I wanted to see what ~200hp felt like!). Poor John Steele – we literally visited him every Saturday until our car was finished. There were even a few times when the car was out at a vendor for this or that, but I’d show up anyway, just to talk cars and smell gas and paint fumes. Those few months of build-time were the closest I’ll probably ever get to again having that feeling of waiting for Christmas morning as a child. In the meantime, I discovered the SOC and read darn near every post.
Shortly after we initiated the build, my wife informed me that we had embarked on another journey: she was due in September. I quickly asked John to install a baby seat latch to the frame in the rear shelf. We even shopped for a car seat that would match the red interior and silver paint of our fledgling Speedster! Unfortunately, once she rode along a few times, she squashed that plan. Champ that she is, she right-seated for the entire 2013 West Coast SOC Event while seven months pregnant (!). She enthusiastically tags along to the mechanic when I get the itch to change something. She accepts the fact that I’ll go nuts without a little bit of seat time every weekend. She gave birth to our beautiful baby boy, Charles Walter, in September 2013. Now, I can’t wait to start driving little Charlie around with me to the hardware store, to explore some twisty country roads, you get the idea…
My interpretation of “The Madness” is an obsession that defies all economic logic and any semblance of normal rationale. It is the never-ending desire to tinker, to cruise, and to improve upon these expensive little go-carts with little regard for more productive uses of time or money. It is the act of making decisions that are DECIDEDLY NOT free from emotion, loving every minute of it, and being damn proud of it! In that sense, although I’ve fallen before, my current descent into “The Madness” has only just begun: Stage two clutch? Check. Short-throw shifter? Hells yeah! Maserati air horns? But of course!!
I feel fortunate to have met some incredible people through the Speedster Owner’s Club. Thank you, Theron, for keeping things up and running, and thanks to all the posters who continue to keep this site vibrant and relevant. I hope to cross paths with as many of you as possible, and encourage y'all to drop me a note next time you roll through LA.
Until then, I’ll be out shopping for Charlie’s first booster seat, cuz Daddy wants to go for a drive…
