ISOA '96 - A Year in Review

As the temperature dips into the negative, (as do my Triumph coffers,) faithful readers (shame on those of you who have not been true to your vows,) of Snic-Baaarf, will recall previous ramblings from this scribe and may well want to fast forward to more noteworthy aspects of this month's issue--such as the tech article about how to properly set mousetraps in the interior of your TR to keep varmints from wreaking havoc on your wiring system--as if the genius's from Lucas hadn't already done enough. So gather round boys and girls, throw another log on the fire and old Mr. Warmth will regale you with another of his reminiscences of the the motoring season past.

Our first official 1996 ISOA function was to patronize the annual Big Bash held at the Cadillac Ranch, formerly the Snuggery, formerly the Embers, formerly a radio station, formerly a depression era house of ill repute (according to old time locals). Do we know how to pick a place to party or what? As usual, the accommodations were a tad chilly, but the conviviality of our group seemed to offset the fact that the proprietors had apparently neglected to pay their heating bills. Oh well, as Royko recently observed, if you have lived in the Chicago area for more than 12 months, the reality that heat waves in January happen infrequently should not have escaped you.

It didn't seem all that much warmer in late April, when we held our annual tune-up symposium. Once again this event took place at Mundelein's famous House of Snakes. We had aroused Lucille from her winter hibernation shortly before the clinic. We vaguely recalled that toward the end of the previous driving season, she had developed an arhythmic heartbeat, and we had made a mental note to do some winter wrenching to ascertain the source of this disorder. However, upon the sage counsel of our hero--Spuds Billimack, we decided to allow Lucille to heal herself over the winter. (We often employed the same line of thinking in our undergraduate Geology class by sleeping with the book under our pillow--with much the same result.) Actually the old girl turned over without too much opposition (the car that is, certainly not Mrs. Streepy) and we went top down (hoping to score a few extra ISOA Cup points) to Shedor's place. The car ran great and I completely forgot about the previous year's problem. (Hint: in literary terms this is known as foreshadowing.) Paul VanderWoude was holding court on color tuning carburetors and other subjects far too complex for my limited capacity for things technical, Pat Lobdell installed some Splitfire sparkplugs, and Snake was demonstrating how to align a TR with a 2 x 4--way cool! As always, we did not let any of the ISOA "experts" fondle Lucille, lest she be unable to make the return junket under her own power. We headed home feeling significantly enlightened on a variety of technical topics but as we proceeded down Route 53 (legal speed limit --97 MPH), Lucille began to wheeze and sputter, and, even though I turned up the radio (my solution to most mechanical enigmas), it didn't seem to help. Our first adversity (unfortunately not our last) of 1996 had occurred. The car ran rougher and rougher until we were barely running by the time we got home. My initial reaction was to seek a divorce (from the car, that is) After ten years of maTRimony--this type of behavior had happened all too often. However, the market for inoperative TR 6's is pretty soft (as well as saturated). so we decided to have her "counseled" in order to remediate her erratic behavior. We eventually found that the float in the front carb had developed a leak (hence it became a sink) as I too sank into the depths of Triumph despair.

In June we decided to give her another chance, this time at the Wisconsin British Car Show. We accompanied Sheri and Bill Pyle from Itasca to the Deerfield Oasis to reconnoiter with other ISOAers. Great weather, car running smoothly, all is well! There was a crew of guys there from an Olds club heading to Lambs Farms for a get together and we swapped car yarns for awhile before meeting a few more Triumph devotees from ISOA. All of us had been to this show before and we all knew how to get to Sussex, so who needed a map or directions? Big, big, big, blunder. As we headed into Cheeseland, Lucille again started to suffer from asthma. The symptoms were all too familiar, and when we got to the event, I began to pool the collective wit and wisdom of the many Triumphiles there about the source of Lucille's infirmity. ("Sounds like the kanuten valve has become depolarized". "You'll need to refibulate the gezhagtehagen with a 50-50 mixture of waxoyl and newt sperm.") I borrowed some utensils from Stalker (Why would I need to bring any tools since I had just had the car fixed, right?) and did the only thing I know how to do to a Stromberg--I took off the top and poured a little oil into the damper. Wonder of wonders--it worked! You talk about the blind pig finding an acorn in a haystack. Now I was set to renew old acquaintances and enjoy some of the show cars. Too bad mother Nature had a different agenda. The skies opened and we all began putting up tops, rolling up windows, etc. So much for savoring the show. I followed Spuds back through the Kettle Moraine to the prairies of the Land of Lincoln. Along the way I marveled at how far technically advanced our Triumphs were for the their day. Who knew 25 years ago that the intermittent wiper would become so widely accepted? Once more I was reminded, after the rain stopped, that driving a sports car through neat scenery over a twisty two lane black top is one of the two really great experiences in a guy's (or gal's) life. (Beer is the other). We made it back to Illinois, a little soggy, but not too much the worse for wear.

We had to pass on the some of the big national shows this year (VTR and TRA) because of some foolish notion that our employer has about actually showing up for work if we want to get paid, but we did make to the Heartland rendezvous held in Quad Cities. We met Jeff Rust at Cherryvale Mall to head out to Iowa. Jeff's car had "shit the bed" (his words-not mine) and so he was in his diesel GMC pickup. It was a nice day and we headed down scenic Route 2 along the Rock River with Jeff leading the way. (Some words of advice; don't play cards with a guy named Doc, don't trust any one who says "Trust me, it's for your own good, and never, never, never, follow a diesel pick up on a narrow, meandering, two lane road in a convertible.) I was about to lose consciousness when we finally got to the interstate and I was able take the front door for the rest of the trip. No sooner had we headed west, than we saw the newly acquired Buja Stag on the side of the road, with no Bujas. We pulled over and attempted to formulate a plan. (Streepy and Rust trying to come up with a plan--such a bizarre scenario defies the imagination.) We decided to leave Jeff with the Stag in case Jake Jaquet showed up with his trailer and I would drive ahead to the show to see if Ann or Donna were there. Jeff would call me on the cell phone at precisely noon and we would adjust to the situation accordingly--Ha!

I arrived at the show and saw Ann and Megan, along with Sheri and Bill who explained that the Stag (and the 2000) had overheated and that Tim and Jake were going to get a trailer and that all was taken care. Meanwhile, Stalker was still sitting out in the cornfields expecting Tim to show up from the other direction. Finally we got our signals straight, Jeff arrived at the show and we checked out the cars. Ken Crowley was there too and we had a nice repast and a few beverages. We left early to attend to the Stag and formed an orderly motorcade back to the spot where the Stag had died. We managed to get the better part of half a mile before becoming separated. We all did finally get together at the car, which it later was discovered had suffered some serious mechanical damage. Tim trailered the car back to Jake's and Sheri, Billy and I headed for home. (At this writing, the Stag is still inoperative.)

Our next excursion was to Oakton Community College for the British Car Union annual event. For the last ten years, the weather at this event has been spectacular and we all assumed that 1996 would be no different. I had even brought a few surplus parts to peddle. In my best Thunderbolt impersonation, I displayed my TR wares in front of the car and was doing a rather brisk business until Mother Nature decided to see that there would no meteorological elevenpeat. The rains came, and the cars went and what might have been a record number registrants,headed for drier environs. I packed up my now water soaked parts and joined the exodus to shelter. (Three car shows, two rainouts and one breakdown--par for the course.)

For many years I had listened Elwood Manteno extol the virtues of Elkhart Lake Wisconsin as a premier venue for Vintage racing. Since Triumph was the featured Marque this year, Rust and I decided to attend the event. If you read Elwood's account of the weekend, there is little I can add in praise of this event. It was a fantastic! We started out Friday morning by meeting "Marque" B. Joslyn and Greg (My car isn't leaking, it's marking its territory) Petrolati at the Deerfield Oasis. (The CITOA guys are cut from the same cloth as ISOA when it comes to punctuality, i.e. they were an hour late.) Greg had been to Elkhart on several previous occasions and led the way through Milwaukee to the track. We got there around noon. As had been the case all too often this year, the weather was threatening. We found Irv and gradually met with other ISOAers. We toured the paddock, checked out the pits and basically drooled over some of the most exotic machinery I have ever observed. We also met Burt Levy, author of The Last Open Road. He was hawking and autographing books, as well as racing. I lied to him about how much I had enjoyed the book (I hadn't yet read it) in order to con him out of a decal. Beady Eyed Bill Detenger and his concours tow vehicle were among the most impressive sights in the Triumph pit. Friday afternoon we went to our motel (The Thunderbird--named after the wine not the the car) a few miles away in Chilton and met with Rust. He had towed his car to the Elkhart so that he could take a lap around the track. We headed to local micro brewery for some refreshment. This place was not quite as Gucci as most of the brew pubs in the Chicago area. Nothing fancy, no frills, just good beer and a pleasant atmosphere. Needless to say we decided to stay for quite a while. We went back to the track for the Friday dinner buffet and visited with some of the drivers and mechanics. We headed back to Chilton and hung out for awhile and called it a night. The next morning was the scenic tour. We'll have to take the locals' word for the beautiful scenery, since it was so foggy that the only thing I could discern was Spuds' rear bumper during the entire excursion. Actually, the area once had actually permitted wheel to wheel road racing around the lake in the early '50s, but a tragedy at Watkins Glen involving a spectator and a high speed sportscar prompted the racers and promoters to opt for the security of a closed circuit which prevented the audience and racers from becoming quite as interactive. After brunch, we went back to the paddock and waited for what turned out to be the denouement of the weekend. Part of the registration fee included a lap around the track for the Triumphs participating in the car show. What a rush! Driving an open roadster around that track, even at modest speeds was exhilarating. I had scoffed at the $50.00 fee for half and hour at speed that was offered as an option for the event. (Fifty bucks for half hour sailor-and we can do whatever you want ) But I developed some major remorse for not exercising this option after taking parade lap. We hung out for awhile and Jack and I marveled at the cash outlay that some of these guys and tied up in their outfits. That night we headed back to Chilton and took it easy while Joslyn and Rust went to the Banquet and did God only knows what, since I don't think (judging by the looks of them the next day) they did.

Sunday was the race and the car show and they were both great. Among the cars was a V8 TR6 that was really well done. It also was my first exposure to Jake's TR3B-What a beauty! We took a second parade lap and I was so enthralled by this entire adventure, that I volunteered to become a member of Team Irv as an excuse to make return trips to Elkhart. We even received (courtesy of the ISOA "vote early vote often and vote for one of our club members or I'll break your kneecap" balloting technique) a memento of our entry in the People's Choice category. Rust and I headed home early Sunday afternoon. Just as in Quad Cities, we managed only to go a short distance before getting separated. We eventually linked up, and the trip home was uneventful, for once, thus making this weekend the highlight of the motoring season.

Our final soiree into Triumph mania was the annual 6 Pack Trials held in Indianapolis. We had gone to the Trials in 89, the last time that Indy had hosted the event and we had a great time. Again this year the host club had arranged for a lap of the Brickyard, along with the usual convention bill of fare. We thought it would be neat to have taken a parade lap at Elkhart and Indy in the same month. Rust had gone down on Thursday night and I left early Friday morning. Needless to say, traffic on the Chicagoland expressways at 3:30 AM was not a problem. The car ran great and we pulled into Speedway Motel at about 7:00, just as convoy of TR 6's was leaving. Rust yelled "Follow me. We're just going down the road to have coffee." Little did I know that this was the early morning breakfast run. Mind you, I had just gone nearly 250 miles nonstop and the last thing I needed was to get stuck in Friday morning rush hour traffic with a full bladder. We finally arrived at the designated restaurant, after about an hour of decidedly unpleasant "touring" and the place lacked enough seating for everybody, Since Lucille was the last car in, and hence I was the last person into the cafe, guess who was odd man out. Not a great start to the weekend. After registering and seeing some old cohorts, Rust and I attended the business caucus and hung out with rest of the attendees. We were supposed to have an afternoon tech session, but the presenter never showed, and my impression of the meet was starting to become a little shaky. Jeff and I had lunch and decided to pass on the 95 mile road rally. Instead, we went to a local hospice for silicone altered young ladies who were dependent on the kindness of strangers for a living. In the words of Wilfred Brimley, it seemed like the right thing to do. That evening, the host club had arranged for a meal to be held at restaurant famous for its excellent beef dinners, just 75 short miles from the hotel. We took the 6 hauler and in only a matter of a couple of hours arrived at the Restaurant. The dinner was fine, but one can't help but wonder if somewhere in the greater Indianapolis area there might have been a place a tad little closer.

The next morning, we spiffed up the cars in preparation for the beauty pageant. There were a couple of absolutely magnificent TR 6's there. The competition included about 35 cars and all were well detailed. After the show, we hung out in the parking lot and toured the Speedway Museum before taking a lap of Indy. The weather was great, but, unlike 1989, we never got a chance to get out of second gear and spent most of the lap in the pit area instead of on the track itself. It was still pretty awesome to drive on the same track as racing's greatest legends. That evening, the banquet was held at the motel. Ken Crowley of ISOA won a People's Choice award for his late model 6 and afterwards we headed back to the room. As usual, Rust and I got estranged, and I turned in in order to get an early start home Sunday morning. Rust had no such plans, and when he arrived in the room about 3:00 AM, I.couldn't fall back asleep, so I got up and headed home. I decided to go up route 47 instead of taking the interstate in order to avoid any Soldier Field traffic. Just as the sun was coming up, I heard this strange sound come from the right rear side of the car. I stopped, looked around, saw nothing unusual, and decided to turn up the radio. About 20 minutes later -- BANG! The tire tread on my right rear tire had gone schizophrenic and flown off the wheel, doing noticeable damage to the right rear quarter and taillight, but surprisingly, the tire hadn't blown out. Here we are at 7:30 on a Sunday morning in the middle of nowhere on a 2 lane trail with no shoulder on which to change the tire. Since the tire was still fully inflated, we figured, what the hell--lets drive on it as far as we can and maybe we'll luck out and come across a gas station before the thing blows. Well Bunky, that's just what happened. We limped down the road for about 20 miles before coming to full service gas station. Unfortunately, the slack-jawed youth responsible for operating the tire-channging equipment was befuddled by the intricacies of a tube-type tire and was unable to make the repairs. (a word of advice to anyone planning to switch from stock wheels to aftermarket--if you keep the stock wheel for a spare--keep the stock lug nuts too) At this point, we figured f**k it! We drove about 100 miles on the treadless tire's belt and had no complications, (other than a knot in our stomach). When we finally pulled into the driveway, (for the last time in 1996) we genuflected and offered a few Hail Mary's as thanks for no further harrowing incidents.

Presently Lucille is slumbering quietly through the winter months, probably dreaming of 108 octane fuel and her new taillight lens. Hopefully, during her winter repose, she will cure herself of any malfunctions and by the spring thaw, we'll be able to enjoy 1997 without any of the excitement that seemed to permeate 1996. If you see us out on the roads this year, be sure to flash your lights-- we probably won't be able to hear if you honk your horn--radio's too loud.

This page (http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/buja/i96view.htm) was last updated on November 16, 1998.