Hi everyone-
My name is Lon
I have an addiction -
Seems like ever since I was a kid, I enjoyed tinkering with things. Most of the time I was lucky and managed to fix or improve them, but at times not so lucky and ended up in the worse case destroying something that I didn't really want to. Most of the bad ones were little things, but I can rember Dad was none too happy when I proceeded to buy a '48 Chevy woodie for $400, that was one step away from the junk yard (based on the price I probably didn't have to mention the junk yard) and proceeded to dismantle it in the back yard with pieces everywhere, and never quite having enough time to put it back together. So, as a teenager, my first restoration project was a bomb, but I ended up learning and actually selling the car for 2x what I paid for it. The greater fool theory lives.
Flash forward, I'm now 62, have restored a few cars in my day and a couple of old wood boats. Hopefully some of those skills will help me with this new scratch that I have to itch.
Grew up in the 50's, which was good and bad. The good part was that Detroit was king, every kid wanted a Lionel train for Christmas, and Columbia & Schwinn were duking it out for supremecy at the playground. I was kind of partial to Columbia's, since dad had a gun shop and the supplier he bought from was also a Columbia distributor. Every fall, the distributor would have an open house, showing off all the goodies for the holidays, and at the end of the day mom & dad would have to pry me away from the Columbia display.
My favorite was a bright red and white Columbia Fire Arrow that had chrome fenders, front and rear mousetrap racks, 2 headlights mounted in the tank, white walls and a 2 speed Bendix shifter. Son of gun if I didn't get that one for Christmas that year.
The bad part about growing up in the 50's is that I'm freakin' old. Some days I feel just like a dinosaur just waitin' for the comet to hit me.
Living now north of Charlotte, NC, retired, hoping to enjoy myself with an old bike. The great part about sumbling across this site, is with one of these if I get pooped pedaling (yes I do plan on pedalling maybe at least once) I can just start the engine and get on home.
Well, I guess I've rambled on long enough (That's what old people do, by the way, remembering the good old days) and I've finally figured out that this isn't the 12 step program for motor-aholics, so I might as well as jump in with the rest of the addicts here and enjoy myself.
Regards
Lon
My name is Lon
I have an addiction -
Seems like ever since I was a kid, I enjoyed tinkering with things. Most of the time I was lucky and managed to fix or improve them, but at times not so lucky and ended up in the worse case destroying something that I didn't really want to. Most of the bad ones were little things, but I can rember Dad was none too happy when I proceeded to buy a '48 Chevy woodie for $400, that was one step away from the junk yard (based on the price I probably didn't have to mention the junk yard) and proceeded to dismantle it in the back yard with pieces everywhere, and never quite having enough time to put it back together. So, as a teenager, my first restoration project was a bomb, but I ended up learning and actually selling the car for 2x what I paid for it. The greater fool theory lives.
Flash forward, I'm now 62, have restored a few cars in my day and a couple of old wood boats. Hopefully some of those skills will help me with this new scratch that I have to itch.
Grew up in the 50's, which was good and bad. The good part was that Detroit was king, every kid wanted a Lionel train for Christmas, and Columbia & Schwinn were duking it out for supremecy at the playground. I was kind of partial to Columbia's, since dad had a gun shop and the supplier he bought from was also a Columbia distributor. Every fall, the distributor would have an open house, showing off all the goodies for the holidays, and at the end of the day mom & dad would have to pry me away from the Columbia display.
My favorite was a bright red and white Columbia Fire Arrow that had chrome fenders, front and rear mousetrap racks, 2 headlights mounted in the tank, white walls and a 2 speed Bendix shifter. Son of gun if I didn't get that one for Christmas that year.
The bad part about growing up in the 50's is that I'm freakin' old. Some days I feel just like a dinosaur just waitin' for the comet to hit me.
Living now north of Charlotte, NC, retired, hoping to enjoy myself with an old bike. The great part about sumbling across this site, is with one of these if I get pooped pedaling (yes I do plan on pedalling maybe at least once) I can just start the engine and get on home.
Well, I guess I've rambled on long enough (That's what old people do, by the way, remembering the good old days) and I've finally figured out that this isn't the 12 step program for motor-aholics, so I might as well as jump in with the rest of the addicts here and enjoy myself.
Regards
Lon