Saturday, October 26, 2019

Baby #2

Soooo, during Birthday Season, I fell in love.  (Birthday Season in a novel concept introduced to me by a friend, whereby your birthday no longer occupies a single, solitary, lonely day).
So, on Facebook Marketplace this popped up during MY Season.

I had been researching late 1970's International Scouts for a friend, so Facebook had been throwing classic truck adverts at me for a while.  But this one made me swoon.

My fleet of work trucks have always been Fords, but deep in my soul, I'm MOPAR all the way.  My beloved 1972 Dodge D100, with 225 slant 6.  

The body was last to be restored, but that's because I had spent my money on the important stuff:  everything under the hood had been meticulously restored.

While in college in Canada, my 17 year old self didn't partake in sisterhood sessions spent playing with makeup and hair products, I'd found myself a group of local boys, GM enthusiasts... We all had late 70's G-Body muscle cars.  Evenings were spent in John's garage playing with timing lights and adjusting carburetors.  My car was a Frankenstein:   I took two junked cars, one 78 Buick Regal and one Grand National and Attila was born.

I drove her for years, she and I racked up quite a slew of speeding tickets while I lived in Massachusetts.  I still regret the day I sold her in Alabama when I was struggling to pay for tuition.  

They say to be truly happy, you should be the person you were before adulthood saddled you with resentments, loss and disappointments.
I may not have a gang of 18 year old guys to hang with, but I do have a crazy hillbilly mechanic friend who acts like he's 18.  Will that work?

Meet Bubba.  Call him not by his given name of Robert, but Bubba, unless you feel like arguing with a 6'6" former football player.
For now, the 1979 Dodge Ramcharger 4x4 shall remain at Bubba's until she runs well enough that I can get her home.  (She was delivered to his shop on a flatbed).  But I spent an evening tinkering with her...

... until I could earn this:

My baby's heartbeat, let's see if I can make it more consistent.  

Little peak under the hood for you:

Made you weak in the knees, didn't it?

Be still my beating heart and greasy hands.

She has already been christened Bumble, after the darling billy goat who visited with me last month.
Aaaahhh, the 70's, they weren't half bad, except for the fashion, of course (80's wasn't any better mind you).