Point of ViewI remember the first time anybody ever called me a gearhead. My sister Micah was dating some guy who didn't know a carburetor from a can opener when he mentioned, "Your brother's a real gearhead." Later, she asked me if that was an insult because she'd never heard the term. I took it as a badge of honor and told her that it really didn't matter whether he intended it as derogatory or not. I considered it a compliment.
One of the reasons that I continue to wade into this job is that it pays me to do things that I would probably be doing anyway. Right now, my '65 Chevelle chassis is working so well in the corners that the oil pan that used to be acceptable is now woefully inadequate. The telltale signs are easy to see. In the middle of a couple of high-speed corners at our favorite Buttonwillow road course, the oil pressure gauge bounces off the 10 psi mark. That's not good. So now we're off on an adventure involving kick-out oil pans, windage trays, and long-stroke motors and I love it.
This has been going on for years. There was a time only a few years ago when the Chevelle was the subject of something like four engine swaps in less than five weeks. It got so bad that my friend Wes Vann stopped by one day with a present. He handed me what looked like a stock rubber motor mount. But he had carefully sliced the rubber portion down the middle and fitted both sides with Velcro. "Here," he said. "This should make those engine swaps a little easier." I still have that mount. It's a great conversation piece.
Other mechanical quests sent me off into the areas of electronic fuel injection back when that was still considered a black art. It was frustrating for a short time, and most of the difficulties had little to do with electronics and more to do with basic engine fundamentals. The lesson was to not blame the electronics first, but instead keep a firm grasp on the basics. Like when the engine wouldn't idle properly, I spent a couple of days fiddling with the electronics when the real culprit was a sticky throttle blade. I've also learned through these experiences to always look for the simple fixes first. This helped during the time I changed over half the ignition system in search of a failed component because the engine wouldn't run. Finally, I disconnected the tach lead from the coil to make sure that the trigger wire had not grounded out-which is exactly what had happened. That process still took two days to discover, but at least I didn't replace the entire ignition system searching for the problem.
The beauty of this job is that it allows me to get into virtually all facets of automotive performance. I've learned a little about aerodynamics, computer simulation programs, suspension design for both drag racing and turning corners, brake performance, electrical system work that still baffles me sometimes, and how the course of engine performance continues to evolve. It's interesting to see how the stories in magazines have changed over the years as we continue to learn more about how internal combustion engines work. What will be interesting as well is how backward future editors will consider us in another 20 years.
Because we write for a magazine, the readers often consider the editor to be some kind of omniscient old owl that has been there and done it all. In reality, we're all just working toward building a better magazine and often you readers are far more dialed in. That's the really fun part-when we can offer readers the chance to be the stars, show off their accomplishments, and pass along what they have learned. When that happens, we all get a little wiser and perhaps can all inject a little bit more fun into our automotive pastime. When we pull that off, everybody wins and we've done our job. If not, there's always next month!-Jeff Smith