When it comes to classic cars, sooner or later you’ll need to go junkin’ to find a part.
Whether it’s in the city (a rare and convenient occurrence) or in the woods up North, fall makes for a great time to walk through the vintage car graveyard. For most, it’s cooler and not nearly as messy as spring time’s thaw-melting period.
With Halloween in mind, enjoy these tales a junker may encounter when searching for that must-have item:
Ticked off. Wood ticks, so gross. Do yourself a favor. Wear knee-high white socks (so you can spot them easily). Better yet, strip down upon exiting the yard, throw everything in the back of the truck (you’re gonna need the space for parts, right?) and change clothes. Yes, newcomers entering said U-Pull-R-Parts lot and seeing a U-Pull-It-Off-Lot will chuckle. Go ahead and do it anyway. Your interior will thank you, too.
Buzz kill. Whoever picked the Loon to be chosen as Minnesota state’s bird, was, well, a loony. Everyone knows mosquitoes are truly the official state representative. So be prepared. Save your blood and dowse yourself in a DEET spray. Otherwise, you’ll be using a set of hub caps to swat away the incoming while trying to dislodge a part. Once the part is removed, so will a pint of your blood, too.
Bear country. Don’t mess with Smokey or Mamma Bear and/or her cubs. Even if they climb up a tree next to the house and look all cute and cuddly. Mamma Bear is not friendly, even in the junkyards. Speaking of who’s-sleeping-in-my-bed, remember, when tearing through a parts car, be on the lookout. You’d rather not get nipped by an offended squirrel or ‘coon for messing up the covers (of seat foam material and shredded carpet, of course).
Shotgun Sally. Let it known if you plan on stepping foot on someone else’s property, that someone may be a wee-bit inquisitive to your whereabouts. My twin brother did such a thing (to check on a Dodge Charger parked in knee-deep weeds) only to be greeted by a shotgun-toting granny. Tokin’ is more like it; she was a bit crazy looking, puffing away on a cig.
Cat scratch fever. Ever notice up North there’s cats everywhere? Man, a few black cats can rival a skunk in smelling up a city block. Usually black (because they’re filthy dirty and smell even worse), urine-marked territories are enough to keep the parts scroungers at bay. Almost.
Cash is king. Bring cash. Nothing’s scarier than an empty wallet and a heart set on parts.
Buddy up. Hopefully one as large and strong as an elephant. A Frankenstein-ish friend (or fiend, for cars) will do. Ever try to hump a rear axle assembly through the woods? Speaking of that…
Pumpkin carving. You haven’t lived until you successfully completed tearing out a rear axle without a jack or lug wrench. And those nine-inch Fords, can they get any heavier? If you must grab a 3rdmember or so-called pumpkin from the junk store, hit the weights. Now. And what’s with that smell? The Grinch’s stink-stank-stunk doesn’t have anything on gear lube’s potency.