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GELLIN' LIKE A FELON

10/8/03

here's a (I think) Dr. Scholl's TV commercial or some such thing where these two lame guys start hip-slanging on an obscure topic.

"Are you gellin'," says one yuppie to his George Bush squared comrade. "Like a felon'" says the equally shallow pocket lint specimen.

And the two dorks, it turns out, are talking about gel-supported foot supports or something like that.

The point of this belly flop into a pool of shaving cream is that I like the word "gel". When two things mate well and interlock, "gel" is a good word. Like ... "Me and Suzie Q really gelled last night" meaning we had an interesting conversation, ho, ho, ho. And "felon," while it doesn't fit the foot of the two twits in the commercial, it did to a safe and reasonably sane degree, fit what I and two dozen of my favorite race people did over the first weekend of the now 12th annual California Hot Rod Reunion.

The California Hot Rod Reunion is my favorite off-ramp from the NHRA tour, leaving aside the Cordova World Series. It is not a drag race, per se, (they do run some of the more popular blown nostalgia categories), but much more a social event, and it's the best thing NHRA does all year. To hell with the World Finals banquet, that's nothing more than someone peeling the Levis off the kids and swapping them for starched collars and ties. The only guy who works that unreal atmosphere with any real ability is Force. The rest of the NHRA tuxedoed crowd looks like the kids jammed into the frame of an unwanted family picture.

Anyway, it's something I look forward to doing all year. For the past half-dozen years, my good bud Terry Lee Minks always journeys up to the farm here in Valley Village from Bellflower, CA, and always in some different conveyance. This year, it was a mint indigo blue '57 Chevy sedan delivery. Last year, it was a slick '50 Chevy sedan delivery, before then a flamed '40 Ford coupe, before that a '36 Diamond Reo cement mixer and so on. His entrances in the driveway are never dull, nor is what transpires the rest of the weekend.

As per usual, we headed to Famoso Dragstrip and the Vipers Club compound fronting turnoff road 1 at the track. For I don't know how long, this collection of Southern and Northern California inebriates gathered there for a party and only incidentally the festivities. Every October, the gang seals off a large area in front of the fence, and parks a variety of hot rods, mobile homes, golf karts and anything else that'll slow live ammo around an area that is half kitchen, half launch area lounge and bar.

These guys are not hard to find. Bellflower-ites Phil and Jim, and "Mercury Fastback Francis," have a club logo, and an unmistakable AA/Modified Fuel Coupe (made by Francis) ice chest. Right ice chest. Imagine Frank Pedregon's "Taco Taster" Fiat modified fuel coupe (made of wood) filled with enough beer to float the U.S.S. New Jersey to Subic Bay and back. When Terry and I pull in with all of the usual road warp, the place really does have an oasis appeal.