Photography by Patrick C. Paternie
Destinations: The Hot-Rod Evangelist
October 1, 2006
"Hot-rodding is just what we did," Marc says about the family trips where everyone piled into the chopped 1932 Ford two-door sedan and set off for various hot-rod shows across the country. "Our neighbors went boating or drove their RVs, but we just got in the hot rod." That car, which is still in the family, is the basis of the Goodguys logo.
Meadors counts hot-rod legends such as Sam and son Chip Foose, Andy and Roy Brizio, and Boyd Coddington as his friends. Despite his professional standing, he understands that hot-rodding must never lose its appeal to the guy who prefers to build his own car as a personal statement.
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"I call this the last frontier of automotive art," Meadors says of the hot-rod hobby. "There are no rules. Our doors are open to everybody from the high rollers to the kid who just paid two grand for his car, and everyone in between."
After spending six hours trooping around the fairgrounds, I agreed. There were woodies and homebuilt hot rods, kids with tattoos that matched the spidery decorations on their primered rat rods, grandfathers driving their grandchildren around in Metalflake T-buckets, muscle cars, pickup trucks, and lead sleds. The full-scale cars had glittery scale-model counterparts shown in the arts and crafts exhibit halls. Wheel and tire manufacturers also displayed their wares, along with the makers of shifters, engine blocks, carburetors, and anything else you could use to build, fix, and paint a hot rod.
For $10, you could have your picture taken in the cockpit of a 192 mph slingshot dragster that was a National Hot Rod Association record holder in the ’60s. Even better, you could sniff the nitromethane fumes from the fuel and listen to the ear-piercing exhaust note when the engine was periodically fired up.
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If you see something you like, it may be for
sale, like this wicked-looking 1933 Ford coupe. (Click image to enlarge)Although Meadors’ assertion that the automotive apocalypse occurred in 1972 is debatable, a straight-axle, primered ’55 shoebox Chevy gasser might look pretty good sitting next to a Ferrari F430 in my dream garage.
Goodguys, www.good-guys.com
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