Rodding Roundtable

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sun, Dec 23 2012, 4:21 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sun, Dec 23 2012, 4:21 pm

FOXBAT008 wrote:

Hi Everybody

Thank you for keeping my story on your fine site
Just want to wish everyone Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

I'm new to this site and I am very happy to be part of this family.

I guess everyone has a fond memory of their first Car and the a thrill of ownership - building - customizing it and going for it first Show Down = Race.

I want to share my true story that takes place in Newark New Jersey 1967.

I came from a family of 11 brothers and sisters and living in a town that had just months to live. That did not bother us cause we were used to it.
And we had something new to distract our attention.........

My story is titled "The Last Flight of the New Yorker"

Its about my brother's first car - a 1958 Chrysler New Yorker that packed a HEMI and me as his younger brother who knew nothing about cars and was going to find out that this faded blue bomb was going to become a legend.

At first I looked at this monster that my brother bought as nothing but an out dated big finned behemoth that was totally out of date in 1967

I was more concerned to keep my brother Jacques(Jack) out of trouble with this new so called Super Car of his?

I want to share my story of this true account with all the folks of this fine site - Anyone who loved the Music - Car Culture - Fast Races - Close Calls
and beating the odds will love this story

Please Click on to this Link and Hold on Tight - Cause there are No Seat Belts

Here is a little Preview of what it in the story

Jacques Started cruising the Ave.
I tried to strike up a conversation to settle Jacques down.

All of a sudden Jacques sees something ahead.
He starts waving in and around slower traffic ahead of him.

(Sort of like a Cheetah weeding out the heard looking for a kill)

I spotted it a half a block ahead, slowing down for the changing light.

It was a Sleek Low to the ground fully decked out 1960 White Pontiac Bonneville.
This thing looked wicked and loaded with all the right do-dads, Rear fender skirts � Twin Antennas on the back trunk - Side Pipes, Spinners on all four wheels and the Lettering Flanking the front quarter panel in Black reading RESPECT!

Its Gloss white Paint "Glisten" in the Florescent lights from the Ave.
It was the �Millennium Falcon Star Cruiser�

To Myself I said NO! Not this car!! It going to make Jacques ride look like a "Hay Wagon"!

It�s gleaming shinning profile, it�s low to the ground grouse and the sweet sound resonating from it�s twin side pipes had me convince that this car might be too much to take on.

I then looked at Jacques to see if he did not notice this challenge.

Jacques went from a mild manner Clark Kent to this Street Gun Fighter.
A serious look came to his face � His Thick Black rimmed glasses looked like Phase Array Radar that had locked in on the Bonnie.

As we pulled up right next to the Bonnie door handle to door handle
I looked at my buddy Jim � acknowledging It was on!

Again Thanks to the Site Admin for providing this fine sit and letting us share our stories.

Personal Note: I love going to Car shows and seeing all the fine Cars, be it Customs - Original - Work of Art - it is so impressive to see these Time Capsules of American past in flowing sheet metal - What I hold most dear is the people that these car belong to,
These are the last great Americans from an era that will never be again!

I say God Bless them all - when they all go to that big Car Hop in the Sky America will never be the same - so lets enjoy it while we can.

God Bless America
John Desranleau - Flanders New Jersey
johndesranleau@hotmail.com

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sat, Dec 17 2011, 10:09 am

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sat, Dec 17 2011, 10:09 am

Greetings

Hope Everyone is doing well

I was glade to see my story is still on this Great Site. (I had computer crash and lost it) Thanks Soooooo Much.

I have One Christmas wish - Can this story be moved to your section called Stories?

I want to wish Everyone a "Merry Christmas"

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sun, Dec 09 2007, 12:59 am

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sun, Dec 09 2007, 12:59 am

Hi Name is Jack/Jacques
I was born 6-11-48, A Gemini
My mother said I was feisty the first time I took a breath
I rolled off the kitchen table the first day my parents brought me home �
I guess that�s the day I started to Rebel
Here is my creed that I lived by
I was born standing up and talking back
My daddy was a green-eyed Canadian jack � who did not give me any slack
He tried the best he could � but could not break my ways or my will.

I've never looked for trouble
But I've never ran
I don't take no orders from no kind of man
I'm only made out of flesh, blood and bone born and raised in Thundering Newark N.J
If you're gonna start a rumble,,,,Don't you try it on alone -
I�m here ready willing and able.
Because I'm Jack, my middle name is �Defiance� I never run.

Some people say I�m Crazy � They say I was untamable � That might be true.
I was stranded in the combat zone and made it out alive �
They said I was insane they may be right.
I like �Smoke� and �Lightning�.
I headed out on the Highway�s looking for Adventures.
I�ve climbed so high and I made it happen�
They said I would not come back from Dead Man�s Curve - I proved them wrong.
They said I had a edge � I said I laid back and let them make the first moves.
I say I couldn�t get Satisfaction no matter what I tried, ,it bored me.
I tried to set the night on fire and I achieved it on more then a few occasions.
I liked Sweet Soul Music and had the Newark rhythm in my stride.
I was born to be �Wild�.

I lived on the streets mainly the West Ward � It was a tuff turf -
The streets of Newark were made out of granite curbing and the pavement that always heated up to a burning point in the summer time. The sidewalks were crooked and heaving each and every way. It was not easy strolling down them each day.
These were not friendly passageways by no means.
So I had to be good with my hands.
If the left don�t get yea, the right one surely will � you can bet on it�.

Had my first job at 9 � Newark News � got mugged the same year and then learned how to survive on the streets. I learned from the book of hard knocks. After that the muggers were mugged � they thought I was just another pansy = Surprise BANG!
I had a howitzer punch that flatten many a challenger � Ask Jean. He was with me when I took an assailant down with my infamous preemptive first strike. He fell to the pavement like a bag of coal. He was out cold! � His four buddies spatter away like scattering pool balls. Vengeance was mine. They mistook us for easy prey not knowing that their big bad leader was going to be scratch and become the victim thrown down into the side pocket.
You could not intimidate me��

Hangouts
The Parks and Sweet Shops were where I hung � and wherever there were ladies � I was there. I could talk so sweet � I could make the little girls talk out of their heads
I lost it when I was just thirteen above the Sweetshop on South Orange Avenue and Twelfth Street

Loved Downtown � Got my treads at Larkey�s Men Shop and my glass bottom shoes at Florshiem � I liked dressing sharp, Italian Knits-High Rolls- Shark Skin Slacks -Swank cufflinks �Ascots. In essence I was a Playboy with Iron Knuckles.

Places I went to.
One was �Jimmy�s Fun Shop� where South Orange and Springfield Ave meet. I also frequented Bamberger�s / McCrorys / Woolworth Soda shops counters. The girls were plentiful there after school when I attended Arts High.
Shared quite a few soda straws with the pretties there. Sweet for my Sweets.
I took all my classy dates to Schraft�s near Hanes.

Schools
I started in St. Antoninus � �Father Sullivan� The Big Fire breathing Irishman� Excommunicated me out of there after 5th Grade.
Next � 14th Ave School � Thrown Out after 6 months try out.
Finally I finished up at 15th Ave School � I had a crush on a girl called �Helen Climax�. What a gal � what a name � Blond hair and smiling eyes, funny what a chick can do to you. She was pure innocence � I was hardcore. I had my first French Vanilla French kiss with her at a Caravel Ice Cream joint on Chancellor Avenue in Irvington �OooooEeee�. For the first time I did good in school trying to impress her with my smarts � Aced It with �A�s�. Sadly the affair did not go far � her daddy decided that a pretty young girl that had Grace Kelly looks about her did not belong in this section of Newark. She was an enigma to me. I was never able to pick her flower. After graduation she was gone and no forward address was left and all I had left to comfort me were Roy Orbison�s sad lonely love ballads that I listen to on the old Webcord HiFi in my room for days. After I got over her it was pure conquest after that.

High Schools
I got kick out of every High School in Newark Arts High � East Side � Central � West Side to name a few � I never did get the sheep skin � school was not my thing.

The Law
Got in trouble with the law a few times�..
Like Marlon Brando (Johnny Stabler in the Move �The Wild One�) said: �I don�t like Cop�s�

Jobs
My father accepted that it was to work I should go
Tried my hand at many jobs never lasted long � you see I get bored very easy
Once I master it � I quit
Finally my POP got me in at Tuscan Dairy and said if I held on to it he would let me get my first set of wheels.
Worked on maintaining the Mr. Tuscan truck fleet great money then � I was able to stash away lots of bread.

Cars
I hung around at the ESSO gas Station at 9th and South Orange Avenue with my black soul brothers. There I got to try out various cars that were there for repairs. I was an advert reading of car books and magazines and always got a kick out of the road tests done in the Mechanix Illustrated featuring my man � old chrome dome himself � Tom McCahill who did a monthly road test on a particular car. Well I decided that I would conduct my own road tests too. I would go to the back of the garage (The stable as I called it) and pick me out a car for my testing / outings and dates. Like in the cult movie Vanishing point
What I was most interested in was All Out Power/ Handling/ Braking and how well it would hold up to my torture test. This is when I got to appreciate big displacement engines and found there was a King Kong. My tests were done mainly on South Orange Avenue late at night heading to South Orange Mountain reservation and up to the infamous S turns. There the car was put to the Jacques test. I tested each car on how fast it could go around the S turns without fish tailing out of control and how well the brakes would hold up
before they faded out. I push each car to it maximum amount that it could sustain
A lot of screaming tires noise and smoky brakes.
I looked to see if the engine and power train would hold up and if there was any weakness such as overheating ect. � Wide Track and fancy performance names did not impress me � show me what you can do when I stump my big right foot to the floor� was what it was all about in my book. I love a challenge and this was right in my book of things I like to do � Push it to the edge, too it�s absolute limit.
I think I would have made a good test pilot.

One night parked in the stable was a true thoroughbred. A 1957 white on white Chrysler Imperial Crown. A real King�s car. I was so impress with this fine and powerful handling automobile I knew then this was the car I wanted. It had Size-Style-Power and prestige and it pass the Jacques/McCahill test with flying colors beside it had what the dragsters had a HEMI motor that could be modified to have stratosphere horsepower rating��. O� Ye
That�s how I ended up getting the New Yorker, which I transformed, into a true Super Car able to leap tall buildings � pull out tree stumps � shake the ground and blow away all street Punks..

As John described it so well in the story it was a car to be reckoned with. I had it pushing out 600 horse power � the money it spent on that car I could have easily gotten a brand new Pontiac GTO. But to me the New Yorker was my type of super car and I built it to take out all challengers.

Drag Racing
I raced it many times outside of Newark � RT22 � Springfield -Union-Mountainside-Maplewood-Pleasant Valley way � South Orange Village and of course the S Turns..
I blew away all the young Trojans and Collegians with their penny loafers and sent then off with their bent pride back to their car hops and Ice cream parlors, some times I ended up with their chick as a reward.
You see they were good off the line but when it came to all out High-Speed racing this is were they all punked out � with only a few exception.
The HEMI was at it�s best at top end and I always took it to the top��..Always.
I�m not bragging but I shut them all down.
I broke in the upholstery many times at the in the Newark/ Union/Drive Inns.
It was great fun ruling the streets and strip back then with my mighty machine.
My big steed outran many cops that tried to catch me � but they never could.
Jean / Granny was horrified when I raced on the side streets with it � to me it was a RUSH

The Trio
Connelly � The skinny Irishman =Front Seat Co-Pilot
Had never drove a car but had great nerves �I could never shake him.
He always had bread and smokes on him, quick wit and great with the jokes.
With him on board I felt I had to challenge any thing that come to the side of my rocket.
He always edge me on. �Come On Jack Blow his doors off�

Granny � Jean
He did not like racing at all.
He was best in the back seat saying his prayers

The Wander
Although I was from the Poor Side of Town�
� I Got around-round-round I got around� �
I was getting tired of the same old strip I had to find a new place where the Chicks were hip��
Drag Racing and looking Cool was one thing
But this was the real Bounty = Girls-Girls-Girls
I took my New Yorker many times to Verona and Upper Montclair this was where the all the classy girls frolic and were easy picking on my Sunday morning outings. Those were great spots for pickups. The soft girls liked a Rebel � These were upper crust pre Hippie Bobbers.
I would go there with my artist easel, a pad, charcoal crayons and I was in like Flint. (Arts High would have been proud of me) They liked the Newark slang and style� it was rebellion to them. There were lots of pretty rich spoiled Jane�s and I was their back door man.
�These Boots were made for walking and I got all the best�
�Shoot them down � Turn Around � Come on Mony!
Yeah she looks so good and I feel alright � It was,,,,,,,,,,,, Out-of-sight!!!!!!!!!!
I guess I was an anomaly to them � something different.
The pretty boys would give me a wide wake � I guess I looked like trouble to these softies.

It comes to an end
Then came July 67 the sands of time ran out of the hourglass

My Car meet it�s faith on July 12th taking out three cars � a beer truck and demolishing the front of a Restaurant and then it disappeared into the abyss.
Then the beginning of the end - July 13 struck
All my Avenues (Literal and Physical) were gone.
All my gold was in that car � it left me broke �
I thought it was going to last but ended up in Dewy Police pen wrecked and dead alone with all the other carnage piled up in a scrap heap from the storm of July 13th.
It was the end of Newark for me � The streets were impassable
In 1968 I mainly went to the Village in New York for the action and Cafa�s �
Newark was in �Shambles� .

Leaving
�Give me a Ticket for an Aer-o-Plane�
�Ain't got time to take the fast train�
Decided to pack it in Sept 1968 and off to La la land
Seattle Washington became my perch � been here ever since
Setting on my front porch
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,
But I know it's nobody's fault

I had fired all my guns at once in Newark � It was a wild time � I�m surprise I lived thru it.

As Pop-Eye Said I Yam What I Yam �A Maverick� What you See is What You Got!
I�m One of a Kind - I was Jumpin� Jack Flash!

There been some nights while I was in a Seattle bar blowing smoke swirls in the air and hearing a mighty engine outside the joint, it would some times bring me back to the days of the New Yorker. I did not have it encapsulated in memory like Jean had. I guess cause he was in the back seat and his camera memory was on and he took it all in. Reading it placed me right back there � crazy as I was, he captured it. Granny was no dragster but he more then made up for it in his writing and telling of it with his unique style of Technicolor verbiage.

Looking Back
What I missed most were all the crazy adventures and close calls that I experience in the old town� All the mom and Pops grocery candy/soda shops were neat� Downtown with all it�s movies houses � that was pretty much on the way out when I left and beside I could not bring a date back to 11th street- Who in their right mind would go there��
Life goes out without me
But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas!
I was only having Fun never Hurting Anyone - Out

Merry Christmas Everybody

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 10:52 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 10:52 pm

Ohio Blue Tip wrote:

Thanks for the story, it was a great read. What�s next?

Thank You Very Much Ohio Blue Tip. --- Yours was the best compilment

What's next - Will I do have one more Racing story that also happen in 1967 -- (Before my brother got the New Yorker) I guess I can tell it now with out worrying about a law Suit - Lolo.

Again its a true story - This time we did about 25,000 worth of damage without really trying --- No-one got hurt - Just our ego and some very expensive piece of equipment. --- Yeps!~

I have to write it ----
(Ahhhh don't worry some of you's it won't be a long story)

See Ya!

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 9:12 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 9:12 pm

FOXBAT008 wrote:

Behind the scene

I wrote the Story because I almost lost my brother Jacques twice to the big "C" cancer and since we are so far apart Seattle Wash - Flanders N.J, I thought it would be nice to remember and write the story about our youth and Jacques first car. I just did not know where to start - get a piece of paper and write it? Na, that wasn�t an incentive that I needed to get me to write it. One day me best friend Jim (the skinny Irishman) told me about a Web site where people that lived in Newark conversed and talk about a gamut of things pertaining to my old-lost neighborhood.

It was like a bridge to the past � WOW I signed up and started slowly adding my memories of how it was growing up in Newark. Quickly I became sort of the storyteller there and the people liked my true stories.

(I was blessed with a 95% recall ability when it came to remembering the past and vivid details, all my family and relatives came to me like I am some sort of old Indian man that remembered the ancient past.)

I floated the idea to the Webmaster if he would give me my own post where I could write a car story about my brother�s first car and he did.
I did not have anything written down -and I said to myself I got to do this for Jacques and I want to take the reader along with me on all the crazy adventures.

I always liked movies so I decided to make the story follow a movie script
like introducing the main characters and then the opening scene.
Still I did not have anything written. Where do I start?

First I wanted the story to be absolutely accurate - so I found a guy on the Newark site that grew up on my street but was there in an earlier time slot. Jules was his name - he knew everything about Newark - 4th generation Newarker.

I asked if he would accompany me and venture back to the street were we both lived on.
This was very risky � Still a very bad area (As a matter of fact a boy and a girl were killed two weeks later in a ride bye shooting 3 blocks from where we visited).

The reason I went there was to verify my facts on the story. While I was on my block with Video and Camera Jules found an old black couple just sitting on their front porch taking in the afternoon sun. Jules called me over and introduced me to the folks and said this gentlemen (me) used to live on this block. The old man looked up at me with sad suspicious eyes and �When did you move out of here � with a sort of sarcastic tone in his voice� I shot back �When did you move here?� He said 1965 I said we left in 1968. He just looked away � I could see I was losing his attention. So I asked him a direct question: Do you remember that boy who had that big car in keep in the lot two houses up? (The Corral)
The Old man eyes widen up You mean that Crazy Boy and that Big Car? I said YES that was my brother. He stated laughing Shooooo That Boy was Crazy.

That broke the Ice and we talked about all sorts of thing we had in common. He knew my family and said my father was a decent man and had to leave cause the town was not a place to be with all those young ones. I made a believer out of Jules that day, It also was the biggest spark I needed to write the story. I photographed the Kings House � The Corral � 11th St. where all the races roared down my block and our house were I grew up in.

I then visited South Orange Ave � Drove by the Fairmount cemetery and then by the Connelly house.
Lastly where the New Yorker crashed across the street from Pabst Brewery which coincidentally was being taken down that very week � pretty strange day � where the Blue Ribbon Restaurant use to be it now an empty lot --- Lot of strange energy was flowing on the day I revisited Old Newark � First time in thirty years.

Afterwards I contacted Jim and went over some of the details of the races described in the story-- again accuracy was what I was striving for.

The first part of the story that I wrote was the first race on Central Ave, After that was penned the rest came easy and just flowed. I loved writing it. I was transported into time � I would go to sleep and wake up with more details. I finished the story a few days before Jacques 57th birthday. I had the story on the site and my older brother Pierre picked Jacques up from the nursing home and presented him with the story. Pierre said that was the first time he�d seen Jacques cry��

I invite anyone to please write a story about a time of your life that meant something special to you � I guarantee that it will be most satisfying.

My son, Johnny, loved the story.

I had to write this story cause Jacques meant so much to me growing up � he was my mentor � guardian � equalizer. There was no bully that I picked on me that didn�t feel Jacques wrath. I could walk down the meanest street of Newark and feel no fear with Jacques by my side � He had Howitzer Punches. � He never looked for a fight but he Never backed down from one � totally fearless. And I was his little brother who he protected � we were inseparable. All my best time growing up had Jacques in the mix, this is way I cared so much for him in a protected way (Granny)

By the way I�m not Granny anymore-I walk in Jacques footstep��..

Just a quick Note

When I was doing my investigation and gathering fact of the story - I researched the Newpapers and Police reports to find out if anyone was injured or worst killed the Night the New Yorker took out 1 Beer Truck - 3 parked Cars - 2 Parking Meters - One Restaurant front - One Cigarette Vending machine -----

I was relived that the answer was No - Thank God ---

I had always wondered about this for 39 years now I can rest the case

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

Ohio Blue Tip — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 9:12 pm

Author: Ohio Blue Tip

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 9:12 pm

Thanks for the story, it was a great read. What�s next?

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 1:36 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 1:36 pm

purplepickup wrote:

FOXBAT008 wrote:

I invite anyone to please write a story about a time of your life that meant something special to you � I guarantee that it will be most satisfying.

Some of our members have done just that. One in particular has written a book about growing up as a hotrodder in California in the 50's and 60's. C9 has authored "California Hot Rodder" which is a great read. You can read a little bit about it here: http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?id=7479 I'm sure that writing it was satisfying to Jay. It certainly has been satisfying to those of us that have read it.

Thank's Purplepickup - I will - Good Information

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

purplepickup — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 2:00 am

Author: purplepickup

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 2:00 am

FOXBAT008 wrote:

I invite anyone to please write a story about a time of your life that meant something special to you � I guarantee that it will be most satisfying.

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Mon, Oct 30 2006, 12:06 am

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Mon, Oct 30 2006, 12:06 am

Behind the scene

I wrote the Story because I almost lost my brother Jacques twice to the big "C" cancer and since we are so far apart Seattle Wash - Flanders N.J, I thought it would be nice to remember and write the story about our youth and Jacques first car. I just did not know where to start - get a piece of paper and write it? Na, that wasn�t an incentive that I needed to get me to write it. One day me best friend Jim (the skinny Irishman) told me about a Web site where people that lived in Newark conversed and talk about a gamut of things pertaining to my old-lost neighborhood.

It was like a bridge to the past � WOW I signed up and started slowly adding my memories of how it was growing up in Newark. Quickly I became sort of the storyteller there and the people liked my true stories.

(I was blessed with a 95% recall ability when it came to remembering the past and vivid details, all my family and relatives came to me like I am some sort of old Indian man that remembered the ancient past.)

I floated the idea to the Webmaster if he would give me my own post where I could write a car story about my brother�s first car and he did.
I did not have anything written down -and I said to myself I got to do this for Jacques and I want to take the reader along with me on all the crazy adventures.

I always liked movies so I decided to make the story follow a movie script
like introducing the main characters and then the opening scene.
Still I did not have anything written. Where do I start?

First I wanted the story to be absolutely accurate - so I found a guy on the Newark site that grew up on my street but was there in an earlier time slot. Jules was his name - he knew everything about Newark - 4th generation Newarker.

I asked if he would accompany me and venture back to the street were we both lived on.
This was very risky � Still a very bad area (As a matter of fact a boy and a girl were killed two weeks later in a ride bye shooting 3 blocks from where we visited).

The reason I went there was to verify my facts on the story. While I was on my block with Video and Camera Jules found an old black couple just sitting on their front porch taking in the afternoon sun. Jules called me over and introduced me to the folks and said this gentlemen (me) used to live on this block. The old man looked up at me with sad suspicious eyes and �When did you move out of here � with a sort of sarcastic tone in his voice� I shot back �When did you move here?� He said 1965 I said we left in 1968. He just looked away � I could see I was losing his attention. So I asked him a direct question: Do you remember that boy who had that big car in keep in the lot two houses up? (The Corral)
The Old man eyes widen up You mean that Crazy Boy and that Big Car? I said YES that was my brother. He stated laughing Shooooo That Boy was Crazy.

That broke the Ice and we talked about all sorts of thing we had in common. He knew my family and said my father was a decent man and had to leave cause the town was not a place to be with all those young ones. I made a believer out of Jules that day, It also was the biggest spark I needed to write the story. I photographed the Kings House � The Corral � 11th St. where all the races roared down my block and our house were I grew up in.

I then visited South Orange Ave � Drove by the Fairmount cemetery and then by the Connelly house.
Lastly where the New Yorker crashed across the street from Pabst Brewery which coincidentally was being taken down that very week � pretty strange day � where the Blue Ribbon Restaurant use to be it now an empty lot --- Lot of strange energy was flowing on the day I revisited Old Newark � First time in thirty years.

Afterwards I contacted Jim and went over some of the details of the races described in the story-- again accuracy was what I was striving for.

The first part of the story that I wrote was the first race on Central Ave, After that was penned the rest came easy and just flowed. I loved writing it. I was transported into time � I would go to sleep and wake up with more details. I finished the story a few days before Jacques 57th birthday. I had the story on the site and my older brother Pierre picked Jacques up from the nursing home and presented him with the story. Pierre said that was the first time he�d seen Jacques cry��

I invite anyone to please write a story about a time of your life that meant something special to you � I guarantee that it will be most satisfying.

My son, Johnny, loved the story.

I had to write this story cause Jacques meant so much to me growing up � he was my mentor � guardian � equalizer. There was no bully that I picked on me that didn�t feel Jacques wrath. I could walk down the meanest street of Newark and feel no fear with Jacques by my side � He had Howitzer Punches. � He never looked for a fight but he Never backed down from one � totally fearless. And I was his little brother who he protected � we were inseparable. All my best time growing up had Jacques in the mix, this is way I cared so much for him in a protected way (Granny)

By the way I�m not Granny anymore-I walk in Jacques footstep��..

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sun, Oct 29 2006, 11:28 am

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sun, Oct 29 2006, 11:28 am

C9 wrote:

Fun read, I enjoyed it.

Interesting technique with the color changes and bolding.

One question though, did I miss it or did you guys beat everyone you ran up against?

Hi C9 - Thanks for reading my story - Glad that you enjoyed it.

To answer your question - Did Jacques ever lose a race - No
Could he have been beaten? Yes

He raced against cars mostly in Newark where the large big Detriot Cars were King

Again T-Bird - Big GM size sleds - Big Ford Etc

He Did race against some real Muscle car's - Like Freckles with that powerful 63 Chevy - probably it had a 409 under it's hood. The Kid overreacted and did a wild burnout, thus, Jack won. I think that car would have beaten US that day if launched the proper way!

Jack's Car truly became a car to recon with after Franky D did his magic
then it was a Real Super Car - but it did not live long to really see how many Real Muscle Cars it could have taken on. It did beat an SS 396 Chevell --- (It did cost Jacques a fourtune to accomplise this - He could have put a good down payment on a New GTO)

Of course Jack's Car would have been beaten by many Muscle cars of the day.

What most impressed me was that I had such doubts that Jacques car could have beaten any Car that was hopped up.

My favorite race was the first one on Central Ave - I thought for sure that Bonneville was going to Cream us - It was such a High when we blew him away...

Too bad the New Yorker did not live longer - But in the short time that it was around, it was a real Blast.

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

C9 — Sun, Oct 29 2006, 7:37 am

Author: C9

Posted: Sun, Oct 29 2006, 7:37 am

Fun read, I enjoyed it.

Interesting technique with the color changes and bolding.

One question though, did I miss it or did you guys beat everyone you ran up against?

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 7:16 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 7:16 pm

purplepickup wrote:

I've read your story and even tho it is a lot different than growing up in a Michigan farm town in the 50's and 60's, drag racing on marked off country road quarter miles, it is always interesting to see things from other people's perspective. Thanks for your efforts.

I assume you're still a car guy. Do you have a rod of some kind now that you'd like to tell us about?

Thanks Pumkin

Boy! I wish my brother Jacques raced in the country - alot safer then on crowed city streets.

No I don't have a Rod or Hot Car -- I wish I did.

I just enjoy looking at cars at car shows - I'm an amatur photographer
The sheet metal of the Fifties and sixties car are without equal in my book.

I love conversation with the owners -- I'm a people person

The best show that I go to every year in in upper New York State - The majestic Adirondack area - "The Grand National" With Lake Geroge as a back drop - The Cars show up so nice in my photos

I try my best to make the owner of these wonderful cars feel very special by giving them sincere compliments.

My favorites Cars --- 1963 Split Window Vett
1963 Rive
66 Tornado
55-56-57-58 Chrysler 300's
All early T-Birds up to 69
66-67 GTO
65 Grand Prix
63 Chevy 409
60 Chrysler 300
Hemi Cuda
Plymount GTX -- Any Year
1969 Dodge Daytona
Mustang Boss 302
R/S Camero
1970 Buick GS
1970 Mach I

As I first noted in my first posting on this site when this car generation goes to the Big Drive in the Sky America will Never be the same again

So let us rejoice that we can still enjoy them while there around and honor all the good people that own them.

One more thing I love about a good car show is all the Great Music for those era's

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 2:41 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 2:41 pm

enjenjo wrote:

Good story. I think most of us had a "New Yorker" in our lives, a special car that set us on the path we are following. My Brother in law had a 57 300C.

Enjenjo Thank you for your kind words - I'm glad you like the story.

Did you ever take a ride in your B.I.L 300C? -

If to did then my brother's 58 brought back some memories of what an Awesome Car it was!!!!!
To me it was a Real Super Car - Large and Powerful.

Franky D Changed the manifold and put on 2 "4's" on my Brother's Car - Forget the Gas milage,
But it sure added to the Thurst..............

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 12:48 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 12:48 pm

Crosley wrote:

This is my first visit in a couple of weeks to this thread
The posts are too long for me to read.

I am not a religion faith based person. I do not believe in a sky daddy (god) or the related material that surrounds all religions

That's fine with me - believe in what you want to believe
(Although I would keep my Helmet on - LoLo)

I was just stating what worked for me.

I tried placing the story in parts So it would not be so long a read

Thanks for your Comment

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

Crosley — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 12:06 pm

Author: Crosley

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 12:06 pm

plenty of hits , no comments?

This is my first visit in a couple of weeks to this thread

The posts are too long for me to read.

I am not a religion faith based person. I do not believe in a sky daddy (god) or the related material that surrounds all religions

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

enjenjo — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 9:35 am

Author: enjenjo

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 9:35 am

Good story. I think most of us had a "New Yorker" in our lives, a special car that set us on the path we are following. My Brother in law had a 57 300C.

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Sat, Oct 28 2006, 8:51 am

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Sat, Oct 28 2006, 8:51 am

No Comments Yet?

I see a lot of hits but nothing?

Where are all the Car Guys?

I could not change the ending that is how the story ends.

My Brother and Family lived there and made the best of a situation that we had no control of. We stayed in Newark and did not run out like so many others (the majority) did. We stayed till 1968. The reason the New Yorker and my brother meant so much to me, it gave the ability to look over the horizon and I did not look ay any negatives (and there were many experiences that I choose not to tell that had nothing to do with the car)

As stated in the beginning we hold no grudges - We Walk The Walk.

I did learn one important lesson growing up in Newark - Watch out for the phonies they tell you one thing and do another.

Do I wish my family and I grew up in a different place and did not have to
be left behind and to be able to grow up in a safe area - The answer is YES!
But in life we made the best of what we are given. I was blessed to have a family that stuck together and one friend and family that shared the same faith as us (The Connelly�s)

I was brought up as a Christian and follow my Lord's way - Live and Let Live forgive and you will be forgiven - judge only the person you see in the Mirror and let the Lord do the Rest.

Peace

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Fri, Oct 27 2006, 12:13 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Fri, Oct 27 2006, 12:13 pm

Highway to the Danger Zone

Revvin' up your engine
Listen to her howlin' roar

Metal under ""tension""
Beggin' you to touch and go

"Highway to the Danger Zone"
Ride into the Danger Zone
Headin' into twilight
Spreadin' out her wings tonight
She got you jumpin' off the track
And shovin' into overdrive
You'll never say hello to you!Out along the edges
Always where I to be
The further on the edge
The hotter the intensity

I'll take you
Right into the Danger Zone

The New Yorker can be seen daily in one of the Garage bays of the Esso gas Station on the Corner of 9th street and South Orange Ave.

Normally the New Yorker was on a lift slightly off the ground with its hood opened and wires running inside the engine bay that were attached to the Sun Tuneup Dialysis machine.

From the street the green mini vacuum tube monitor can be seen displaying the engine vital signs and Jacques like a laboratory scientist bending over adding parts and doing adjustments to the Hemi.

It became an obsession with him, tinkering and testing getting the engine to its optimum calibration of getting every ounce of power that could be had. He installed the very best parts he could get.

Points � Rotor � Cap - Spark plugs, oil and filter were changed weekly.
(Brakes shoes were replaced every two weeks)

He treated his car like a corner man took care of a prizefighter. He used special fuel additives that boosted the already high-grade octane gasoline to even higher BTU rating of power. (Today it�s called juicing the engine � short of Rocket fuel that produces higher horsepower and cleaner burns) � Jacques always thought outside the box. He was a genius when it came to automotive machinery.

All this was preparation for street racing � making sure the New Yorker was ready for any challenger. Jacques had made friends at the station and got total privileges of the service bays and tools.

The New Yorker was getting faster and more powerful by the week.

Jacques was never satisfied so he hired a wrench-head by the name of Franky D � one of his buddies from West Side Park. He was an experience mechanic that had worked at English Town�s Raceway Park and Island Dragway (Drag Strips) he�s specialty were HEMI�s.

Franky looked like �Troy Donahue� with a jagged titanium edge � always wearing shades � (I never saw him with out them) He had ice in his veins and the people on the street gave him a wide wake � Like the line from the Movie Shaft noted ---
He�s a Bad �------� �------�

He was the quintessential hard core �Newark Greaser�, who would make the Fonz look like a towel boy at a steam house or Kenickie and Danny Zuko from Grease look like an Animal Cracker cookie vendors at a kiddy Clown Show by comparison. ----- Franky was Bad to the Bone��

But one thing was for sure I have never seen anyone to this day work with tools and engines like he did. He was a master � a real treat just to watch him work � what hand � eye coordination. He flipped � twirled tools like a "Western Gun Slinger".

The speed that he did things were incredible fast - (Like the Wood brother�s pit crews � but with super slick Style) He never got dirty and he could hold you in thrilled with his conversation while he was performing his magic � I loved watching him work and all the stories he told me, some very scary. (He had a real God given talent in hands that were fast like a concert pianist and brains that he could have been employed in Peenemunde�(The German V2 Rocket Plant) He was not a B.S�er , he backed everything that he proclaim, and what amazed me was how much respect he had for my brother Jacques � that say�s a lot about Jack.

Show me the Money
There was a catch though it was Money � Franky D had a high habit of spending on Fast Cars and Fast women � before he did any work Jack had to place the money � (Full amount) on the fender of the car � then stand back��

He did the serious work on the New Yorker � Heads � Pistons Manifold � Cam � Carb Etc.
Jacques work along side of him but could not work with the same dexterity as Franky D � again I never seen anyone like him�..

He introduce me to Snap on Tools � That�s all he used �(They flipped good in the air! also � they were balanced)

After he was done with the New Yorker, it was a totally different beast all together now. Jacques has spent a fortune on it, Franky suggested it and Jacques said "Do it no matter what it cost"

Franky road tested the New Yorker to verify his work and to prove to Jacques that his money was well spent. He drove it to an upper crust neighborhood of Verona where there was a rich mix of Hot Cars and blew away a Pretty boy in his SS 396 Chevelle without a problem. As a matter of fact he even gave the P.B a second try just incase he might of missed a shift ��. Same results = Franky Blew his doors off �.Go home kid!

Afterward I never saw Franky D again forever vanished like so many other Newarker�s had done, most likely he got locked up - To Bad he was a One of a Kind: A Real Surgical Mechanic with SuperCool Stlye

Jacques now had his Super Car � it had cost him every nickel that he had made.

The New Yorker had lost its innocent Prom Car docile ness �
The pretence was over It was now a full fledge Monster with a growling muttering as it idles now � the only problem was it was living on borrowed time and the clock was ticking and its demise was near its end��.

Jacques was now racing mainly on the side streets of Newark late night / early morning after returning from his job at Tuscan Dairy. Like a known gun fighter he had lots of challengers � there was not a night that he would not find a willing contestant.

I would often hear the Hemi roar from my bedroom late at night when Jacques was taking on another challenger on one of the side streets by our house. It would always give me that nervous feeling of not being there with Jacques so I could be his conscience telling him not to take so many chances�..

When he would race down our street he always beeped his horn on the flyby by our house and I always listened to hear if he made it safely down to the end of our block..................

I think today that is why I still have a nervous stomach!

Every morning I would go down to his bedroom in the basement and listen to make sure he got in. Then I would go outside to check on the New Yorker to see if it was in one piece. Their was never a dent on it � some glazing glance marks were on the side of the front bumper probably from scraping close to a parked car during a hot side by side race. Jacques relied on his driving skill more than he did on his brakes.

We lost one of our prot�g�s, James Connelly; he went down the shore for the summer so that left just us two.
Jim had gone with Jacques solo several times and witness some pretty crazy street racing � all of them Fast � Wild and Unforgettable

(I guess that�s where Jim got the bug to Street race in Newark around Grove St in the early 70�s with his own Chrysler Product-- the potent 340 Plymouth CUDA)

The weeks go by. Now it�s Late June
By then Jacques lost his parking rights in the Coral � I knew it was just a matter of time � he apparently, one night, on a power take off test crashed right thru the gates which caused the owners hunting dogs to run away � that was it � that was Jacques! Now he had to park his prize either on the street or at the Esso Gas Station.

My Last Ride
One night Jacques asked me to go to work with him at Tuscan.
We did the Mr.Tuscan Trucks (Soft Serve Ice Cream Vending Trucks � Like a Mr. Softy ) in record time and we were heading home around 3 am � I was real tired.

Jacques jumped on the Parkway � He was cruising at a petty good clip but staying under 70. The Parkway was totally empty at this time.
All of a sudden (Yea! you knew this was coming up) a dark green 67 Chrysler Newport pulls right along side us!
I look over ---Noooo The guy in the Green Newport now pulls ahead, Jacques stays even with him. Now we are doing around 85 and it becomes a race to see who had the Faster Top Speed car.

Neck and Neck this race is going-- Jacques New Yorker is steadily pulling away One two three four ten cars lengths now and still pulling away strongly��..

All of a sudden Red lights come on "blinking" from the challenger grill Oh O � it�s an unmarked State Trooper Cruiser!

Jacques is surprise but still keeps accelerating and had all the intention of out running him and getting off the next exit. Like Robert Mitchum in Thunder Road

Being that I (Granny) was with him, I convinced Jacques to obey the law and to pull over��.

The State police car pulled in back of us, out jumped this young trooper who looked like Barbie's boy friend Ken and goes right to the front of the car and asked Jacques to step out and open the hood.

The Neatly dressed officer was a real trooper kidding around with Jacques saying �I could not believe this bomb could out run me What kind of motor to you have in this crate?

Jacques educated him about the Hemi and he was totally impressed and let us go with out even a warning � a real great guy!

One note:The State Trooper�s Newport had 440 Police interceptor engine and still the Hemi Won - at high speed it was unbeatable � just ask Richard Petty

I was so glad that the Trooper did not give us a ticket and this would be the big excitement of the night. Good-- now we can go home to sleep � (I was not a night person) This was not in Jacques plan since this was his normal waking hours and the night was still young and he wanted more action. He starts going up and down the side street of our neighborhood.

I said to myself if he goes by our house that�s were I�ll get off.

Not so quick, he spots a Red 65 Buick Wild Cat on the corner of our block 11th.

He quickly pulls up to the Wildcat � Come on I said lets just go home! � For-Get-About-It! Jacques goes into the Jack mode and signals the guy in the Buick� you want to go for it look�. The heavyset middle-aged black guy nods and looked forward meaning let�s go! Both take off heading down 11th street cars are line up on both sides of the street making it a real tight frightening race. I was frozen with fear as the race went from mild to wild and there was no letting up. Just the sound of two powerful engines exhausting out rumbling thunder into the night air was scary enough not to mention the parked cars on either side that formed a deadly steel wall with about 6 inches of space clearance!!!!

I felt my life was about to end if the slightest mistake was made as we were now going about 80 MPH down this canyon of death heading for the intersection and stop sign at the end of the block.
The Buick made a good account of itself � but in the end the Hemi ruled. Both cars barely made the full stop at the corner and push on toward the longer block ahead of us this time Jack left the Wildcat pawing after us but never catching our tail fins.. We turned down off at the next intersession.

Street racing was not a long drawn out race (most of the time not a quarter mile - depending on the lenght of the block) it was over in a matter of minutes if the other guy car pulled away from you after giving it your best shot, you lost � its over

I said to Jacques "Let me off here I�ll walk home" �(Very bad area) I was willing to take my chance cause I never wanted to be in a car race like that again � It was the hairiest race I�ve ever been it � not because of the speed but because there was no room for error and racing with object (parked cars) flying by you as if you were being shot out of a cannon Real Evil Knievel "S--t� was more than I could take - never again!

Jacques like the thrill of racing, he got off on it and not even showing the slightest bit of fear he always had the smile of victory as if to say one more down and calmly lit "Click"- "Flick" - Lit his freshly hanging Winston with the Glare of the Flame still reflecting off his Glasses and those perching Green eyes studying me for a reaction he asked me nonchalantly well how did I like it? Like are you ready to do it again -
NO! He got his Adrenaline Rush and I was ready to be admitted to a Psycho Ward!!!!!!!!

That was the last time I rode in the New Yorker

Late June Now
My family had gone to Canada for Vacation

Jacques and I were to guard the house while they were away
� little did they know that everything was about to change forever��.

Now I was working every day to support myself selling Pretzels � to me it was great now that I could buy food I normally did not have at home such as real butter. I�d come home at around 5
I would wake up Jacques around 7 if he were still asleep so he could go to work.
He was not racing as much anymore � he told me one night he was racing a guy that had a 58 Chrysler Windsor (A step down from the New Yorker) that also had a Hemi and that race ended with the Windsor failing to made a stop at an intercession and it ended up in a very bad crash

July 11 � The Last Flight

Got home everything was normal. Jacques was still asleep. I tried getting him up around 7 but he wanted to sleep some more so I planned to wake him up at 8:00 I went outside to check on the New Yorker as I normally did, because I hadn�t done it in morning.

Normally he parked it on the street near our house I walked to and from the corner � no car. Ah it must be at the Esso � although he hadn�t taken it there for weeks now that he had beat all the cars around and the street racing was not an everyday pursuit anymore..

I checked anyway � nope - I then walked around our block checking � no car. I got home and ask Jacque where did you park your bomb? He said groggily near the corner� I thought maybe I missed it and went out again to both corners. I came back and said it was not there!

WHAT are you sure - Yes I said as he stormed out to see for himself. He came back with a disturbed look it�s gone. I said call the Esso maybe you parked it there and it is behind the garage � called = no.

Jacques now called the police � they were over pretty quickly. The two officers were taking down the information when one of the office asked again What color was your car? Jacques answered Blue and white.

The officer said that an accident was just reported that just happen on South Orange Ave. Jacques was very upset and could not believe it and had me get him the bottle of aspirin, which he then swallowed about 10 of them!!!! The officer was very cordial and said they were sorry to be the barer of bad news.

I quickly went out and ran up the avenue to see if I could find the scene of the accident.
I saw red lights swirling and people standing in front of the Blue Ribbon restaurant that was right across the street from the Pabst Brewery.

As I got there Jacques Car was not to be seen � could this be the accident the police described? Looking at the carnage, one car was crashed right into the front of the restaurant and had pushed the front counter almost into the back wall in front of the place.

A second car with both its rear and front end totally smashed in was resting on the side walk, a third car was being hooked by a tow truck looked like it was also part of accident. Several parking meters were bent to the ground like they were plastic straws. Glass was everywhere so was the tire marks and various car fluids spilled out in front of the joint like bloodstains of a crime scene.

I asked a bystander what happened; he said a big car slammed in back of a Pabst beer truck and then crashed into the park cars sending the second parked car through the front of the restaurant. He then said the driver of the blue car pulled away with his badly damage car and left the scene.

All my body hair was now standing on edge as I looked around at the whole picture, it looked like a scene from a Godzilla movie after he had paid a visited Tokyo!!!.

One thing was for sure the New Yorker Limped away � seeing all of the damage it hardly seem possible that it was still drivable I left total shaken and feeling very sad for Jacques.

I ran home and told him what I had seen He just replied F---- it! and left the house to go I presumed to work. Jacques was not an emotional guy no matter what happen he just shrugged it off. I too did not think about it and just went to bed � sleeping a little bit soundly knowing Jacques was not racing tonight.

The Next Morning July 12 was a sunny day I walked up South Orange Avenue to meet up with my boss JR on Speedwell Avenue. As I got closer to the scene of the accident I tried to piece what happened that caused the accident, I saw long black tire skids heading toward the restaurant presuming it was the New Yorker trying to stop from hitting the Pabst truck? More skid marks on the sidewalk and stains from engine coolant and transmission fluid.

It was like walking on hollowed ground and with a gasp looked at it again in the day light. The Blue Ribbon restaurant was closed and covered with greenish gray heavy canvas sheets with the Newark Police insignias printed on them. I peered behind them and saw the smashed counter and there was still glass on the floor. Again very eerie

This was almost like a premonition of what was going to take place on all the avenues of Newark this coming night. Newark was also going to crash!!!!!!! I went and sold pretzels all day blocking the sorrow of losing the New Yorker � living in Newark at the time you never focus on the negative because there was always so much negativity that was going on all around. I had enough to think about just trying to survive on the streets and staying alive.

The next day (the morning after the first night of the Riot) I was rescued by my boss JR the pretzel man and saw my entire city trashed, many Cars were crashed into the store fronts to gain access to the bounty. Glass and debris smoke and fire � horrible � I had enough.

The little joy of the New Yorker while it was king of the streets only temporally masked the problem that was going on in Newark prior to July 12 and that was gone also

I washed everything that had to do with Newark out of my mind and spent the rest of the Summer in beautiful Canada/Vermont � God had saved me.

In September returning home I talked to Jacques for the first time since the night of the accident, he said that the New Yorker was found abandoned a few blocks from the scene of the accident and ended up in Dewey Police Garage wreck pen down Neck. The mounting storage fees were not worth paying to recover it. Jacques had gone down and looked at his prize.

It was with the rest of the car�s that had gone through the night mire and carnage that had forever changed Newark. Busted � Crashed Cars all given up for dead were piled one on top of the other �

There he found the New Yorker in its sad shape � the interior was trashed because the windows were left open � rain had gotten in and who knows what else � it had lost all its ambiance � The front windshield was caved in, Jacques car was dead,, Jacques just throw down the bill of sales like a death certificate and just walked away � closing out this chapter of his life in Newark forever. Newark was dead and so was the New Yorker. July �67 was both their last flight..

I think maybe the New Yorker was heading West that faithful night just trying to get away like most of the other inhabitants had done over the years but failed even with all its mighty thrust it couldn�t brake free from the grips of Newark ,,,,,,cause maybe it belonged there.

It died from its mortal wounds next to the cemetery on Grove Street.

Jacques left New Jersey and is now living in peaceful Seattle Washington, Gone from him are his Days of Thunder on the Streets of Old Newark. He�s just a mellow guy now but mention Newark to him and the cynical grin reappears from the glory days long time ago��.He�s My Brother

Legend has it if you go down to 11th and South Orange Avenue late at night just before the dawn in late June you can still hear the Rumble and the Roar of Jack�s Old Hemi going down the side streets of old Newark

Who knows where all the metal from Jacques Car ended up. Maybe the pen you�re holding might have some of it recycled metal in it � you never know.

God Bless You All

The END --- Apodictic

http://musicstore.connect.com/artist/300/121/09/30012109.html

Good Thing
'80s Gold / Fine Young Cannibals

Good Thing - Fine Young Cannibals
The one good thing in my life
Has gone away
I don't know why
She's gone away
I don't know where
Somewhere I can't follow her
The one good thing didn't stay too long
Woo who who who
My back was turned and she was gone
Hey hey hey
Good thing
Where have you gone
Doo doo doobie doo
My good thing
You've been gone too long
Good thing
Doo doo doobie doo
People say I should forget
New friend tomorrow
Don't get upset
People say she's doing fine
Mutual friends I see sometime
That's not what I want to hear
Woo who who who
I want to hear she wants me near
Good thing
Where have you gone
Doo doo doobie doo
My good thing
You've been gone too long
Good thing
Doo doo doobie dooGood thing

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

purplepickup — Thu, Oct 26 2006, 2:15 pm

Author: purplepickup

Posted: Thu, Oct 26 2006, 2:15 pm

I've read your story and even tho it is a lot different than growing up in a Michigan farm town in the 50's and 60's, drag racing on marked off country road quarter miles, it is always interesting to see things from other people's perspective. Thanks for your efforts.

I assume you're still a car guy. Do you have a rod of some kind now that you'd like to tell us about?

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

manyolkars — Wed, Oct 25 2006, 10:32 pm

Author: manyolkars

Posted: Wed, Oct 25 2006, 10:32 pm

Where is the next chapter?

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Fri, Oct 20 2006, 9:30 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Fri, Oct 20 2006, 9:30 pm

The Duel on Bloomfield Avenue

The Song that best befitted JACK
((( Born to be Wild )))
Get your motor runnin' Head out on the highway
I like smoke and lightning Heavy metal thunder Racin' with the wind
And the feelin' that I'm under Yeah Darlin' go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace Fire all of my guns at once
And explode into space
Like a true nature's child
I was born, born to be wild I can climb so high I never wanna die
Born to be wild.

It�s about 7 o� clock on Bloomfield Avenue the suns long rays where just hitting the tops of the yellow stone facieses of the buildings that were along side the avenue with the backdrop of the blue evening sky causing them to appear like the top of the Coliseum. The day�s radiant heat was being released from the structures and black top giving up a distinctive aroma that mixed with the fumes of the passing traffic. Pigeons are flying to their nesting areas underneath the overpass of the Garden State Parkway.

This is where the two warriors were now analyzing one another for the ultimate face down.

My senses got acutely heightened as the tension was mounting, one thing I knew for sure was that Jacques would never back down from a challenge; he was like a Pit Bull when it came to facing down an opponent.
Jim sits motionless in the front seat waiting for the first move.
The tension is almost unbearable, sort of like waiting for a war to start before the first salvos are fired.

The two cars are staged side by side.

I�m studying Jacques opponent, he appears very casual � can he be that confident?

Here we go
Bubble Gum makes the first move,,,,
He makes a quick left turn ---- not what we expected �---What! ----- He�s making an exit!

He had come on like a big bruising boxer that comes into the ring drabbed in all the fancy flashy treads with big lettering proclaiming he�s a champ of some kind, then does an all out exhibition of fancy jabs and shuffles really putting on a show and getting the crowd all charged up for an all out battle. Then when the bell is about to ring he instantly metamorphosis from mighty �Joe Palooka� to �Pee Wee Herman� and leaves the ring!

What?!!

Jacques lays a patch of burning rubber as he does a full power turn after him, the New Yorkers big Fin rear end, for the first time, fish tails and slides sideways following the front end into the turn, the front tires are also protesting trying to hold on to this turn. The screeching burning power sound echoes and scares the roosting pigeons from their underpass nesting area and they come flying out just as they would be at the opening of the Olympics.
Jacques quickly brings the New Yorker back in control and administers his famous push button power shift from the master command panel and catches up and moves the New Yorker right up the door skins of the shiny slick looking Grand Prix.

The Bubble Gum Gangster looks over in horror like he did not realize that he started a duel and has the look that said: Why are you following me?

Jacques is now �Personified� Jack, in full Newark mode. The cars are both motoring side by side on Bloomfield Avenue.
Jack edges on the Hemi like an attack dog each throttle pump makes it jump and he inches closer and closer to the Grand Prix shiny skin.

Jack then puts his hand right on top of the passenger door of the Grand Prix like he�s a Cowboy grabbing a calf by its half grown horns and say�s �Hey PUNK Show Me What You Got!�

Jack let go and stumps down on the gas, the New Yorker obliges his wish and kicks down into passing gear, in a blink of an eye the New Yorker shoots two cars lengths ahead of the Grand Prix then Jack cuts in sharply in front of him.

What! This guy turned out to be a nothing. Bubbles immediately makes a quick left turn again trying to get away from us???????

Jack makes a wild Screaming Tyrannosaurus Rex U turn and catches up to him with full AFB Snorting sounds.

This about face move was perfectly executed, hands down it�s the best move I�ve ever seen Jacques do � (Could have been used in the movie Bullet � Starsky and Hutch could have taken notes on this one!)

Imagine a powered backend to front full reversal on Bloomfield Avenue that was 4 lanes wide!!!
Absolutely stunning!
Borrowing a line from Top Gun �OK Jester You Can Run but you cannot hide?�

The Guy is now in full panic mode and does not even want to make eye contact with us. He�s hoping that we just go away.

Jacques is dogging him now and starts laughing "This Guys a W-u-s-s-y" and now decides to have fun with him like a Cat with a Cat-Nip-Mouse.
He makes the New Yorker lay back then punches its, burning rubber and catching up with the Bubble Gum gangster and taunting him saying here �Chicky� �Chicky�.

The Grand Prix maintains the legal speed limit.
The New Yorker sticking right along side of this Showboat cruising side by side hoping that we can "Ignite his manhood".

Jack then puts the transmission selector button in Neutral and show his cards for the first time and lets
"King Kong" out of the box,, by flooring it, the HEMI snorts and goes into its full power Rocket Roar!!!!!!!

This finally cracks the Bubble Gum Gangster - he can�t take it any more and he makes a run for it, his Grand Prix had a pretty good get up and go.

Jacques starts laughing, look at him run � the poor baby�s scared.

The Grand Prix goes flying up an entrance ramp like a rabbit being chased by a wolf. Jim and I tell Jack to let him go, he�s got to go change his pants; he�s got a great car but is afraid to race it.
He�s all show but no go. Jacques takes our advice and guns the Hemi to get us out of there and said its time we go home � AMEN

We went several blocks now paralleling the Parkway and we�re cruising at a good clip heading home, all of a sudden the Grand Prix reappears as it is descending down an off ramp and bumps right into our path.

This was totally unexpected by either one of us. You should have seen it.

The Bubble Gum Gangster had the look of death when he spots the New Yorker pulling right next to him again!!!

Jacques shouts at him �Hey Punk are you still Alive!� and squeezes the Grand Prix almost into the wall then we Blast off never to see the Bubble Gum Gangster again. This was the laugh of the day and what a wonderful day it was � Never to be repeated again !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Bubble Gum Gangster was just a Punk who was used to looking down on people who he thought were beneath him with his snickering stare, that is until he bumped into the wrong Guy � Jack popped his big bubble all over his face

When it came to stepping up to the line to prove himself � he folded � sort of like the politicians we have today!

Back on 20th street we dropped Jim off, the Sun looking like a hazy red ball, was going down on the South Orange Mountains in the distant west casting a soft amber pinkish hue on the grave stones in the Cemetery that was across the street from the Connelly�s house.

Everything seemed so quiet now the lightening bugs were just coming out beeping their yellow blips as Jacques and I departed.

When we got back on 11th St. the New Yorker was placed back in its slip in the Corral. Jacques went straight to bed, having to work later tonight at Tuscan � he had stayed up the whole day to be with me.

Later on I walked over to the Corral where the New Yorker was parked I looked at its silhouette shape which seem to be resting from a long day.

It was eerily quiet now.

I walk over to the New Yorker and place my hand on the hood that stills feels warm and slide it to the handle on the driver side door and open it up. I decided to just sit in Jacques seat and take in the moment, pulling the knob on the dash turning on the dash lights so I could see the greenish blue glow from the dashboard gauges. All the gauge needles were in their resting position not registering anything. I laugh to myself thinking how they never stop moving and swinging when we were doing all the stunts that we did during the day.

I had the keys so I turned on the radio and just sat there remembering this day, feeling glad and yet kind of sad knowing that it was over. The Mamma�s and Poppa�s Song: �Dedicated to the One I Love� comes on. It was such a nice rendition of the old Shirelles song and the way the M&P sang it with their perfect harmony made it a perfect song for reminiscing and I did say a prayer of Thanks to God for giving us this memorable day and keeping us safe and also to keep watching over Jacques.

Thus ending this wonderful day � not knowing there would never be a day like this again.. I turned off the radio and shut the dash lights, then pondered in a quite thought for a few more moments then slowly closed the door and said thanks to the New Yorker as I patted it�s hood and walked back to our house still feeling in a melancholy mood.

Then I started laughing out loud thinking about the Bubble Gum Gangster who was probably still washing out his BVD� Shorts !!!!!

Jacques New Yorker was like the Family Dog who was taken on an outing and did everything so perfect, always willing and ready to execute all of Jacques commands and giving us a marvelous time.

It was never beaten � it never ever let us down and carried us like a "Big Giant" all day.

This was the last time the three of us were together in Jacques magnificent car - soon everything would end........................

Next Chapter - Highway to the Danger Zone - The END

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Tue, Oct 17 2006, 1:00 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Tue, Oct 17 2006, 1:00 pm

"Grooving on a Saturday Afternoon"

Readers: Did you ever wish you could relive just one day of your youth. (The 1st Time excluded)

Well this would be the day I certainly would wish for.
I had just come out of the hospital the day before after being there for 9 days.
With that behind me I was looking forward to continuing my life�s journey.
Meanwhile Jacques had continually worked on the New Yorker making it Better and Bader/Faster all the time�. and the beat goes on!!!!

The Next day was Saturday
What a glorious morning, the type that you would want to go back to when your youth senses were at the height of appreciative acceptance. It was slightly cool and there was a gentle wind rusling the leaves on the trees � sort of what you would expect on a brand new day.

The blue sky, shaded by dark green leaves in front of our house that filtered the morning rays, created a wonderful canopy covering above the New Yorker that was centrally parked directly in front of our house.

Jacques had cleaned his prize to it best appearance that I had ever seen it�He had all the windows down and the elegance of the New Yorker parked in front of our house that morning could have be used as a post card advertisement. The white roof perfectly graced and complimented the white/blue upholstery that looked so welcoming.

At that very moment the Young Rascals Number One Hit �Groovin� on a Sunday Afternoon� was playing befitting and packaging the whole scene.

Groovin' on a Sunday afternoon
Really couldn't get away too soon
I can't imagine anything that's better
The world is ours whenever we're together
There ain't a place I'd like to be instead of

Movin' down a crowded avenue
Doing anything we like to do
There's always lots of things that we can see
You can be anyone we like to be
All those happy people we could meet
Just groovin' on a Sunday afternoon
Really, couldn't get away too soon

We'll keep on spending sunny days this way
We're gonna talk and laugh our time away
I feel it coming closer day by day
Life would be ecstasy, you and me endlessly

To me this was the unwrapping of one of the best days of my life.
It seemed to me that that song was penned for this very moment.

Jacques stood outside his rocket tapping the rhythm on the roof and just enjoying his first butt of the day that came out of the pack that was neatly tucked into the sleeve of his white tee shirt which showed off his youthful, muscular "V" shaped upper body. He was wearing his standard getup which consisted of a pair black chino slacks and heavy looking boot shoes, the kind Harley bike riders wore, which gave him an "Industrial look". He always had a confident stance look about him, always so sure of himself, something that I lacked at the time. Jacques was the type of guy of very few words � not a lot of nothing, and when he spoke it was in a pretty low tone, sort of like Jack Palance
.
When he talked and locked those green eyes on you it was his stare that seem to hold you with their grip. There was one word that when he said it sort of sounded like he had invented the right way of saying it, and the only other guy that said it with the same conviction was Dirty Harry-- the word was PUNK!

Jacques took a final drag then tossed the butt and barked �Let�s blow this joint and fish out the skinny Irishman. This snapped me out of my day dreaming mood (must have been the left over anesthesia) or it could be that I was so glad to be alive and appreciated every little thing and I now saw things in a different light)

I opened the door and was greeted by the fresh pine tree fragrance, eyeing the interior it was showroom perfect, even the rear view mirror sitting centered on the dash was so polished that it picked up the prism colors of the morning sun.. The rugs, seats and door upholstery all culminated richness to the senses. Closing the door I wished for only one thing that was missing,, the seat belts.

Jacques got in and I could see he was happy that I was back. He didn�t have to say anything. The New Yorker Gracefully pulled away from the sidewalk and like a ship free from the dock, we�re off on our cruise. I was really impressed how mannerly Jacques drove around the first corner and onto 12th Street. Now heading toward South Orange Ave which was still a full block up, Jacques fed the Hemi some oats which immediately pinned me to my seat giving me that funny thrill feeling like going over a hill. It felt great to be alive! Jacques looked over at me and saw my broad smile � he knew I was happy to be with him again.

A nice slow down and smooth stop at the light, then up South Orange Ave again very gracefully. The Avenue is practically empty and the sidewalks are still damp from last nights rain shower. We swept past Fairmount Cemetery with it glossy black spiked iron fence that would look good outside Buckingham Palace. I glanced over looking at all the distant monuments and found it intriguing and very peaceful on this wonderful morning and asked God to bless all the resting souls there.

Turning Down on 20th Street, Jacques traversed the three long blocks with accelerating dashes that pinned me again into my seat then makes a perfect quick landing directly in front of James Connelly�s house. I said to myself: I hope I could drive so precisely and in full control like that when I drive.

The New Yorker was like one with Jacques, today its called fly by wire = instinctually. That big car moved and reacted like it was much smaller when Jacques was at the controls. Jacques "beeped", the New Yorker had great sounding announcer � not some cheap sounding tin horns of a lesser grade car. It had a prominent full and rich tone saying we have arrived.

Mrs. Connelly opened the front porch door that was one level above us, the aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the street air. She wasn�t sure about seeing Jacques driving this big fancy car and wanting her son to go alone for a ride. I could see the doubt of uncertainty come over her face just before she was about to shut the door, I called out �Good Morning Mrs. Connelly� It�s me John. �Oh, John it�s you!�, with a sigh of surprise in her sweet voice I knew in an instant that she would now call �Jimmy� to come out to see us.

James came out looking like Frank Gusenberg, he did not expect us but, like a Good Fellow, he jumped right in the front seat.

Mrs. Connelly seeing us pullout yelled �Jimmy� be careful!

Right away I said,� Jacques Don�t do a Burn Out�.. � Too Late� Screech! =====================

James starts laughing, �Jack its great to see ya� as he turn around to pass me a Newport; I was happy he did not ask me about my hospital stay. We were just picking up from when we last were together, everything is the same. Jacques had his passenger and proceeded piloting his majestic car to the land beyond for a day�s worth of adventures��.

The Corridor of Thunder and Might
First Stop down Neck � (The heavy industrial part of Newark It�s Iron Guts)
Why we went there I couldn�t recall, but once there I couldn�t forget either.

We headed down toward where all the junkyards and used tire lots were. We were on a road that was lined up with the descent path for the big jets coming in low for landings in Newark Airport. With their wing flaps down shuttering, high decibel jet turbine sounds spewing out black kerosene smoke trails in the sky directly above us, all the air on the ground vibrated with concussion shock waves adding real excitement to the moment. What a grand display of America�s Aerospace Dominance in the civil aviation, Boeing, Douglas and Convair which made up the largest percentage of all the free world Jet Airlines at the time.

Those big silver bodied birds with their riveted mirrored skins catching and reflecting the morning sun with their landing gears and slow gyration rolls was truly an awesome sight to behold, it was like the precursor of what this day was going to be like�..

Jacques spots an empty dirt lot, and then pulls the New Yorker onto it. I�m wondering what gives?
Do you guys know what a brody is he asks? Before we can utter a what? Jacques grabs and swings the suicide knob hard to the right and floors it. The Big New Yorker reacts and goes into this wild spin. As we are turning Jacques manages to hit the switches to make all the side windows close. He keeps pouring on, dust and lose debris is set flying like a cocks tail behind a Thunder Boat on Lake Washington. He then starts doing figure eights, then all out doughnut burn outs. The big New Yorker seems to be in its element handling each wild turn with total competent control thanks to the hefty torsion bars in the front end . (I guess that�s why all modern battle tanks employ torsion bars in their suspensions)

The whole lot became one big brown hazy cloud! Finally he jumps the New Yorker out of there and onto the payment and completes this stunt with a long tire screaming burnout. Jim and I are speechless.

What caused Jacques to do such a stunt?
I guess it was a combination of jet fumes and an over abundance of testosterone.

He was like a Wild Stallion Just Kicking up the Dust cause he could not contain all his wild energy - which would be release in big douses this day��..

His glossy waxed up car isn�t shining any more. That was my brother, spur of the moment and did not worry about any trivial things as long as there was fun to be had and sizing what he thought was an opportunity to enjoy it to the max.

Thinking back on this moment it sure was scary and hair rising, but it was a blast to have done it � some thing you don�t normally do. All we were missing was pretty Daisy Duke and we would have been the Dukes of Hazards.

The windows descended back down and the hard top roofline look of elegance reappears again. None of the dust got into the cabin verifying that my Dad and Jacques did a good job on the floor boards, the dust on the exterior was whisked clean by high speed dashes.

The Land of green grass
We next set our sites on exploring the green belt of Suburbia � the lure of the dawn of Aquarius beckoned us to venture away from the Rusty shackles of Newark.

We jumped on Route 1-9 and landed on Rt24 heading towards Madison. Suburbia was the outer world where most of the pre habitants of old Newark fled to. The land of green grass � Bar-B-Q's � Clean streets with flowers pots hanging from Gas street lamps, American Flags displayed proudly next to front doors of perfectly painted houses with manicured hedges and lawns. Grass sprinklers that lazily rained down sparkling droplets of clear water, creating miniature rainbows in the process. Driveways with shiny cars being washed by dads and kids, buckets of soapy water and the family dog joining the fun. Bicycles freely coasting down the street with the sound of clicking bells on the handlebars assured you that this was a very safe place to raise kids.

Young People like locusts, were everywhere you looked as it stated in the Soda Pop commercial of the time �It�s Pepsi Time the drink of the New Younger Generation� � so full of life and joy, and laughter. Music could be heard emanating from all directions of car radios, open sun porches and kids with transistor radios added to the "effervescence" of the Dawn of Aquarius � what a wonderful time to be alive.

Riding in the back seat and observing this entire beauty going by made me wonder if these people realized just how much they really had at this moment in time.

This was like a syntactic acid trip to me but no LSD was needed, full of colors � joys � happiness music all around if I could only capture its aura and place it in a bottle for a cloudy sad day in Newark.

A real Cherry
We pulled up to a light that just turned red. I heard it come up from behind us; it was a Candy Apple Red �63 Chevy Impala. I saw the insignia SS underneath the springy Impala icon as it pulled right up to the front bumper of Jacques New Yorker. (I always loved the 63 Impala with the stainless Steel looking rear end and those three light on either side it was way cool)

The person at the control of this mean machine was a young freckle faced kid who looked like he just got this Car out of a trade school mechanic�s shop. I notice he was unsure of himself but he was defiantly "toating" a very big engine under that hood.
Maybe I got him nervous when he spotted me looking at him as if he was a piece of T-Bone Steak that was just thrown into a Lion cage at feeding time.

The rumble emanating from the big back pipes of the Super Sport revealed that lots of modifications were made to make it sound so intimidating.
Jim looked at this kid then turned around and looked at me, purposely trying to edge Jack on. My brother did not do a thing, just looked straightforward???
That Candy Apple Paint Job sure did look good � as they say in California a real Cherry! Green Light, instantly Jacques turned his head and stared hard at the young punk and then floored it, the kid was completely caught off guard, the New Yorker lunged forward by a half a car length. Freckles then over reacted by "revving" his engine into high RPM and quickly let out the clutch,,,, Wow! screaming burning rubber, the backend fishtailed wildly trying to get some grip. By then Jacques big Hemi was near its top rev and we were at least 5 car lengths ahead of the trade school kid. It was over, way over. Jacques blew the doors off of the Candy Super Sport Impala. The Kid will have to take it back to the shop and have its horns put back on ,which were slightly bent from the Blast of the Big Hemi! He quickly turns off the Ave that's it for him!

GeminiThe New Yorker, like Jacques and I, was a �Gemini�- Zodiac�s Twin Personality

The New Yorker made a perfect Prom / Wedding car, graceful, smooth, refined and quiet.It would be a perfect backdrop for photographing a pretty little girl holding bright pastel balloons in one hand and a bunch of charm lollypops in the other � totally docile. Also it did not broadcast it venomous equalizer, the earth ""moving"" Hemi cloaked under its hood.

Most guys that challenged and pulled up to the New Yorker, totally misjudged its capabilities and by the time they realized what they were up against it was too late � See Ya! This is what made Jack�s car so stealthy; most cars that he took on did not expect Hercules to emerge. Also Jacques like a pharmacist, dished out the proper prescription the handled each client. Jacques rarely gunned his engine � this would have shown his cards, instead he psyched out each one of his foes.

Lucas McCain
Jacques like (Chuck Connors) The Rifle Man was gunning for his next victim.

Road Side America
We were again just cruising alone Rt 24 listening to all the great songs playing on the radio and pointing and checking out all the pretty gals with their Mini Shirts parading on the sidewalk. My oh my they were "Blossoming" Everywhere!!!! We passed lots of teen hang outs, all the boys trying to look sharp sporting Side Burns, Smoking Marlboros wearing Ray Band Sunglasses, H.I.S Slacks, Tom McCann shoes, and plenty of Canoe cologne splashed on, trying to impress all the pretty fawns walking around.

To me this was the America that I was missing, but I was not letting that get me down, I was happy to witness it and to be part of it on this sunny June day. It was Groovy!

The Aqua Velva man
The Aqua Velva man, a middle age man dressed in sharp attire Ascot neatly protruding from his expensive looking shirt and looking sharp and refined in his 1965 Teal Blue Thunderbird waiting at the light as Jacques pulled up to him. I was drawn to check out his cool machine with its the dark green blue tinted band on the front windshield letting the light into what was surely an aircraft inspired cockpit with all the nestle chrome gauges angled to face the driver. The guys give Jacques a quick look then as the light turned green he smirked a grin and took off with all the bird could muster.

Jacques looked at him dashing away, I�ll let Pop think he has a fast car, hehe. He performed the same take off procedure that worked so well on Central avenue, holding the brake and bring up the revs high so that it felt like the engine would come through the hood then unleashed the Hemi. It felt like we were rammed from the back, a snapping jolt that slapped us into the seat when we blasted off after our prey. The Bird was at least 4 car lengths away, it was a matter of seconds when we overtook and shot by the T-Bird as if it was standing still, we went by him with a Whooosshhh , blowing off his tail feathers!

Jacques then came to a perfect stop at the next light.

AV Man pulled along side us and smiled and said in a stannous voice: Ah what kind of a motor to you have in that car?

Jacques replied (In his best Marlon Brando voice as he blowed out smoke from his Windston and looking straight forward not looking at his challenger) A Real Motor! Then gunned it leaving a patch of burnt rubber as our calling card.

To me this man was a gent and a sport who did not realize he was up against one of the baddest engines ever placed in a car and with Jacques at the helm it was not a contest.

The reason the New Yorker did not do a wildly slipping and sliding "Burnout" display on launch was due to the heaviness and heft of the backend that held the tires tied down thus the Torgue was appiled and not wasted on the take off.

The Island of Tranquility
Route 24 when it enters Morristown forces you to make a right hand turn, which then cycles the Green (A center of town park filled with lush green grass and towering old trees that give it a Central Park type of feel).
It was filled with beautiful people just enjoying the pleasant setting, young couples sitting on park benches, people playing guitar, others lounging on the grass. A vendor selling balloons to little girls in chiffon summer dresses. There were older couples feeding pigeons, a total picture of harmony.

Jacques pulls over and parks, we got out and bought some sodas. This is so different from Newark, we feel a bit alienated so we stayed close to the New Yorker just taking in the scene. We hopped back into our transporter and continued on RT-24 � �Groovin� comes on again to permeate my mind on this moment.

The Graduate
Heading away from Morristown we were passing Jockey Hollow Park with its green meadows, old stone fences and tall elm trees that were on both sides of the road creating a beautiful green foliage tunnel. The road is now one line and Jacques is also taking in by the moment and drove very mannerly, just cruising and enjoying this sunny afternoon. .

We are just in awe looking at the quite country side, then like a sneak attack a kid looking like Dustin Hoffman from the picture �The Graduate� passes us on the left and sharply cuts in and continues speeding ahead of us.

We were totally taken by surprise. The Car he was manning was a 65 Dark Metallic Blue Oldsmobile F85 Starfire with a white convertible top, very sharp looking with it crisp clean lines and wire wheels. This was an intermediate size car with a weight advantage of about 800lb less to haul around.

The twin tail pipes protruding from the rear bumper testified that it was being propelled by good size Rocket engine and the way he was covering ground ahead of us certified that!

Jacques throws out his Winston and sat up straight with a slight look that said �That�s It Punk your dead� We were doing about 40, and the Olds was really pulling away from us,,,,,,
This was the first time I saw the New Yorker going to passing gear status, Jacques just stomped the gas pedal to the floor with full force, and there was a na�o second of hesitation, then an explosive eruption of things happening at prosaic intervals. First was the horrific roar of the big four barrel calling for more fuel, the front end plowed upwards as the tires shoved the body forward by the Hemi unleashing its full dose of horsepower and administering tons of torque.

The New Yorker catches up to Olds looking like it was trying to bite off a chunk off its rear. Jacques utters �Punk Your Mine�, the Graduate is now totally scared out of his wits trying desperately to pull away � his little Olds couldn�t oblige his wish. The New Yorker�s front bumper was right up to the Olds rear end. I could almost make out the dial setting on the radio on his dash�

We were real, real close, the immenseness of the Chrysler�s stature bearing down on him like it had a magnetic grip on his back bumper must have really been intimidating��.. Mommy!

I called Jacques off the poor kid, Jacques listened and let him off with a warning. I think the Kid needed a change of underwear after that stunt. Again the New Yorker impressed me with all its Total Thrust of Howitzer power!

We�re now motoring in the quiet town of Mendam.
I tell Jacques please no more racing lets just have a nice enjoyable ride.
Jacques seems to agree as he follows a Ford Squire Station wagon with a little boy that is constantly waving Hi to us, maintaining a safe distance between us and them. The Ford is obeying the speed limit and what seems to be an unending journey to nowhere. Jacques starts getting fidgety. I don�t know where this road is taking us to, he said in frustration.

The Road Side Stand
Just then on the left side of the road was an entrance to a small roadside Hamburger stand. Jacques guns it and the New Yorker heaves its hood upward like a horse being pulled by its reins as it turns sharply onto the gray graveled lot.

The ""crunching"" sound of the gravel must have re tripped that switch in Jack�s head and it was like announcing "Hey Kids What Time is it!" === �It�s Brody Time!�

The Lot was empty except for the small white cabin set in the back by picnic tables. Jacques gets that craze look in his eyes and yells 4000! And starts flinging the Big New Yorker into this high speed ballad twisting and turning spin outs and yelling YaaaaHooooooo. Rocks are being pitched and flung everywhere like a bursting skyrocket. He keeps it up around and around, I�m getting tossed in the back seat cause there is nothing to hang on too.

Finally like a flash summer thunder storm it�s over. The New Yorker climbs over several furrows that weren�t there a minute ago and parks.

Jack swings open the door like �Captain Outrageous� steps out Click-Flips-Flick-his Zippo with the signature six inch flame, lit his Winston and observes his handy work. A broad grin came over his face and he calls out to James and I ,are you guys hungry � I am � I can eat a bear!

We walk into this Plywood Palace and discover that the grills are on but no one appears to be here. Jacques Yells out Yo! Anyone here as he spinned the swivel seat stool before he mounted it. All of a sudden a man wearing a white folded up cap appears from behind the counter. Jack addresses him like General Patton, what are you doing trying to hide? (He was probably hiding from the rocks being flung) The man appears to be totally shaken and looks over at his front lot then looks at Jacques who looked as innocent as if he did nothing wrong. Jacques said in a calm tone What?, then ignores the guy and ask me �Hey Square Head�, What do you want to eat? Before I can even answer he tells the counter guy Give my brother a California Cheese Burger � You do know how to make that right? Jim how�s bout you � make that 4 California�s.

I ask what is a California burger? I guess when that poor gentleman eyed Jacques up and the way Jacques looked in that tight white tee shirt and that crazed look, he decided not to say anything but to take our order. He very kindly answers my question in a sheepish tone ; it�s got lettuce and tomatoes on it. Feeling sorry for the guy I try to be extra nice trying to make up for the brody. He was OK with it, guessing that�s what boys do with car sometimes � they get carried away. We enjoyed our meals and Jim and I left him an extra tip beside Jacques tip to show him that he was a real good sport about it. Then we left the lot � No! no more brody � we all agree that the guy was alright! Jacques headed back towards home now.

Footnote
(It wasn�t till 1976 the bicentennial that I rediscovered that little Hamburger stand which was right outside the little town of Chester. It had great homemade burgers and frosted mugs of root beer) It is no longer there, the little shack was torn down in the mid eighties.
In the year 2000 we had our first family reunion and I went back to that lot and picked up a gravel rock that looked like it had black burnt rubber marks on it and presented it to Jacques as a souvenir)
I still Reminisce every time I drive by the empty lot with the gray gravel.

Going Back Home?
Every thing was quiet heading back down Rt24. I thought we were going home.
I told Jacques No More Racing � No Matter What! (Like the little Kid in Terminator II telling Arnold No More Shooting � You understand!) Descending down Rt 24 looking out the side window at all the Lush Greenery, ponds, vegetable stands, old barns and the way the low angled rays of the sun in June illuminates everything near the ground with such vivid colors. Taking it all in because soon I will be back in Newark and having none of it again. James was in the front seat keeping Jacques at bay by talking about a multitude of different things � Music � Girls � Style and making sure not to talk about cars. He got along very will with Jacques and Jacques liked conversing with Jim because of his quick and witty Irish wit. The song Groovin� comes on the Radio again for about the 10th time today, each time just as enjoyable and befitting the day perfectly.

We are finally now on Springfield Avenue in Irvington, seeing Jacques jump on the Parkway thinking he is going to take it up to South Orange Ave to drop Jim off. He pays his quarter and hits the gas � Jim and I looked around to see if he racing someone?

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm" all the windows came up - closing and sealing out all the street noise -- Pressurizing the cabin?

Jacques has now got this serious look like Dr. No from a James Bond Flick
In an authoritative German scientist voice he announces "Prepare for High Speed Testing"

What I say to myself!

The New Yorker keeps accelerating faster and faster 80-90-100-110

I watch the needle on the round speedometer tilt towards its full arch to 120 MPH

The Needle is solidly pinned��

There goes the Exit for South Orange Ave � Then Central Ave goes by in a blur.

Holy Godzilla�s!!!

(I'm thinking to myself he's gone completly nuts just because he paid a quarter toll he thinks he's on the Utah Salt Flats going for - a land speed record)

The only assuring thing is that the Big New Yorker is rock steady

Jacques proclaims I still have an inch left before the pedal is to the floor� meaning we are doing over 120 and I still feel the New Yorker going faster, the white deviding lines are bluring by so fast that they almost seem to be one solid line now!!!!

Just when I think the Car going to leave the ground, Jacques says "That's Good" and applied the brake to scrub down the MPH descending down to legal speed as we reach the exit for Bloomfield Avenue in record time, my heart pounding starts to go back to normal as we zoom off the exit ramp. (Thank God)

Connelly had a smile like he totally enjoyed it.

The Great Challenger
As we descended down the exit ramp we meet up with a shiney new �67 Blue turquoise Pontiac Grand Prix Convertible.
Jacques glares over at this new arrival.
The Guy in the Grand Prix Glares right back at Jack like John Gotti looking at a Pretzel Boy!

Not Good!

I call this Challenger - The Bubble Gum Gangster

Jet Black Hair, Gold rimmed wrap around shades, looking like James Bond.
He was dress to the �T�
Italian knit, perfectly plastered hair, nice healthy tan, white smiling teeth and a hand with a big stoned ring and a dangling gold chain. He held a Marlboro close to his lips taking small drags and looking like he was a King.

Glancing again looking at Jacques Car and laughing as if Jacques ride was a joke.

I was observing the beautiful car he was driving � simply gorgeous.

It was packing the big Quadra Power 428 cubic inch powerhouse, Pontiac�s Biggest Gun! I saw the insignia badge in red on the front fender as Jacques maneuvered his dog next to this new challenger. Mind you this car was 10 Years in evolution ahead of the New Yorker.

Its profile was slippery smooth and very sophisticated looking. It�s Chrome Mags made the New Yorker Hubcaps look like,,, just that-- Hub Caps. That new look of "shiney" chrome is unbeatable no matter how many coats of polish you put on old chrome �

This Car was the clear winner in this appearance class showdown.Mr. Bubble Gum felt he had a stacked deck with a full house that showed loud and clear with his arrogance and total A-t-t-i-t-u-d-e.

But wait a minute the Hemi hasn�t spoken yet! And your dealing with Jacques the genuine article! This time I wanted Jacques to trash this guy, but looking at the insignia 428 again started me doubting�.

Could Jacques car truly be unbeatable against a car that is newer and more modern by 10 Years?

Is this the menace that will take us Down?

I was starting to think the winglet fins on the New Yorker were passay ?

Bubbles surely had the look of confidence as both cars sized one another up and waiting for a clear path to finally find out who Is the Best?

Stay Tune For The Conculsion

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Fri, Oct 13 2006, 9:13 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Fri, Oct 13 2006, 9:13 pm

The First Night Prowl

It was a Late May evening sun just going down � Coolness was in the late spring air.

Most of the delicate pink peddles had fallen off of the Tulip tree in the yard where Jacques kept the New Yorker caged, the ones that were still clinging on were about to be vibrated off!!!!

My best friend Jim was over, he and I walked to see Jacques who was doodling under the hood of his rocket. He popped up his head when he heard us approaching. I should have notice that wicked grin that held the butt to lips that he was up to something. �Hey you Hoodlums � Want to go for the shake down cruise?

To me it short of sounded like something I had read about in a naval book about sea trials. In this case it was sounding more like the "Great German Battle ship Bismarck" that was much feared in the early years of World War II going for its first shake down cruise, to test out its main battery of Big Guns ! Jump in!
�Light My Fire� by the Doors was playing on Radio Station WABC through the New Yorker�s Mopor AM Radio Sound System which was turned up to "High Volume" status.

Just before I could jump in the back seat, Jacques shouted an order to me!
�Give the Beast Its �Nitro Cough Medicine"

Jacques had me squirt a full dose of Starting Ether into the Air Cleaner of the big AFB Carter Carburetor.

� Light My Fire�
Time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire
Try now we can only lose
Try to Set the Night on """FIRE"""

�Ignition Sequence Start�
Jacques looking serious placed his thumb on the Start Button on the Master Control Panel

\\ Mashed It //

The Big Hemi snorted it and stirred to Life

Immediately the torque flexed the chassis side to side flexing the Torsion Bars in the front suspension proclaiming it was alive and willing!

I closed the massive hood and realized that this was the moment Jacques had been waiting for these last 4 weeks and Jim and I were now going for the first real ride in his so called Super Car?

A Hazy Green Blue Glow came from the Dash Boards twin circular clusters housing the vital needles that vibrated oh so slightly from the explosion detonations resonating from the massive cylinders churning from the engine room�..

The Smile on Jacques face became more cynical now and he took a long drag from the Winston perched at the corner of his mouth and let it out in a smooth long cloud ending it with a POP! Sound.

(A quote: from the Movie Top Gun comes to mind �I Feel The Need for Speed)

Jacques Punched in the first command via the Push Buttons on the Command pad situated on the left side of the dash.
The Command was immediately sent to The �Torque flight Transmission� � �First Gear � Take Off�

The Torque was then transferred to the posi-traction rear end that distributed the torque equally to both axils shafts connected to the big Firestone�s. The explosive power distorted both tires by the rapid transferring of power, which cause them to flex under great strain and releasing the rapid turning power to the ground. A violent flurry of loose gravel sprayed outwards like the thrust coming out of a rocket�s exhaust, digging a twine trenches in the parking lot floor as the big Car lunged forward towards the gated fence. Jacques quickly hit the brakes and stopped inches from going right through the gate!!!! I guess he was just checking his reaction reflexes that he will be needing later on that night!

I was sure impressed as I got out again to swing the gates fully opened to let the lion out, the back part of the yard was full of dust and smoke from the pre launch. WOW! I thought to myself looking at the twine furrows that were just dug up, this beast can really chews up the pavement, What Power!

The Car leaped with the slightest touch of the gas pedal as Jacques pulled it totally out of its slip.
I quickly closed the gates and jumped into the back wondering what the owner of the yard would say when he sees his yard and the trenches next day?

With a Quick Flick from the suicide knob on the steering wheel Jacques aligns the Bow of the New Yorker to it�s destination heading North towards Central Ave!!!!
Now on 11 Street black top, The Firestone�s Chirped with a twin Clean Burn of black rubber as a signature of our departure into this night.............

I was feeling a bit uneasy as we sped to the first stop sign at the end of our street. (Jacques never had the Seat Belts installed as I wanted them to be � That was Jacques Philosophy �What Me worry?�)

Stopped�.. Cleared the first Stop sign and on to the next longer block that seem to beckoning to apply more speed.

As we were all being pressed into our seats by the forward thrust; Jacques blurted out �4000�
(�4000� was Jacques code word when he was about to lose all sensibility)

We went through the remaining blocks leading to Central Avenue like a Rocket going through and shedding its booster stages.

Each block was jettison faster and faster ---
It was going to be a wild ride � My Stomach was getting that tight nervous feeling ---
The �Granny Syndrome� had fully taken over my nervous system!!!!!!!!!!!!

Central Avenue

Jacques Started cruising the Ave.
I tried to strike up a conversation to settle Jacques down.

All of a sudden Jacques sees something ahead.
He starts waving in and around slower traffic ahead of him.

(Sort of like a Cheetah weeding out the heard looking for a kill)

I spotted it a half a block ahead, slowing down for the changing light.

It was a Sleek Low to the ground fully decked out 1960 White Pontiac Bonneville.
This thing looked wicked and loaded with all the right do-dads, Rear fender skirts � Twin Antennas on the back trunk - Side Pipes, Spinners on all four wheels and the Lettering Flanking the front quarter panel in Black reading RESPECT!

Its Gloss white Paint "Glisten" in the Florescent lights from the Ave.
It was the �Millennium Falcon Star Cruiser�

To Myself I said NO! Not this car!! It going to make Jacques ride look like a "Hay Wagon"!

It�s gleaming shinning profile, it�s low to the ground grouse and the sweet sound resonating from it�s twin side pipes had me convince that this car might be too much to take on.

I then looked at Jacques to see if he did not notice this challenge.

Jacques went from a mild manner Clark Kent to this Street Gun Fighter.
A serious look came to his face � His Thick Black rimmed glasses looked like Phase Array Radar that had locked in on the Bonnie.

As we pulled up right next to the Bonnie door handle to door handle
I looked at my buddy Jim � acknowledging It was on!

The Challenge was being pressed on to our opponents in their Shinny Bonnie on Central Ave

Before going on here�s the perspective

The two black gentleman in the Pontiac, I�m sure did not expect to be challenged in Newark on Central Ave, by a white boy and two young punks on a Friday night!
Mind you these two cars were full size blue collar behemoths
Both were from guys from a hard life section of town � each with their own attitudes!!!
Unlike some young rich white suburban kid whose Daddy bought him a brand New GTO or the like.
(Sure! A New �GTO� would have eaten these two cars for breakfast.)
This happening was happening in a city that had months left to live. Probably the last time a young white kid from the inner city faced down a black man who was just trying to make his mark in his new town, before all hell broke out in July of that Summer..

It�s on

The Gentle man in the Bonnie had his arm sort of resting on the edge of door.
His buddy sitting next to him wearing a bandana and chewing on a tooth pick looks over at us and has a look that seems to say �Get serious and put that Toy away Man!!!�
The driver looks over nonchalantly gives us a second look
"Thinking" I�ll blow away this joker and my shinning Vista Shine Paint job will never see the reflective image of this faded blue Bomb next to me Again!
His bring it on looks convinced me that he might be right!

Jacques Now became JACK � His every move was orchestrated for the show down. He looks at his opponents with a defiant look that says �O-Yea Go for it!�

Lock and Load / Lets Rock

The Big Chrysler had it�s tires planted and locked as Jack fed the big four barrel fuel and held down the brake pedal.
The revs from the Hemi embraced and flexed the whole body
---------- GREEN Light!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Looked at the Bonnie as it was stepping out, then like a Navel Jet catapulted from a Aircraft Carrier, The New Yorker unhooked and lunched with full ferocity��..
Jacques had a Slight grin like he knew his car would trounce that hyped upped Bonny like a Cheetah running against a Bob Cat. No Contest!

Jacques Punched in each Power Shifts from the Push Button command center.

Each Shift felt like an other stage of the rocket was firing � �Jolting� and bring in more �G� forces of accelerating Thrust of Power

I was being pushed against the back seat hard from the �G" forces being generated by the Big Hemi. I had ridden on a lot of fast roller coasters in my youth, but never had I felt the accelerating G�s like this, that this sled was producing.

The New Yorker was doing its thing just like a Good Hunting Dog would do for it�s Master
No hesitation, Just a Go Get em attitude!

My head swung back as I saw the big Pontiac giving it�s all but fading and falling away fast from the New Yorker�s Rear wayward angled Big Red Back Tail Lamps ��.

When Jacques left his challenger in the dust he applied the brake to scrub down the G�s thus reeling in the Big New Yorker down and descending like a twin engine high tail naval jet compressing down on a flight deck of a Carrier for a landing. The Heavy Front End eased back down and the torsion bars on the suspension did their job and leveled it out back to its normal motoring stance.
The Big Hemi spooled down and �Purred� like it was satisfied too��.

We all �Screamed� like school boys at a Prep rally -- �We Smoked Him Soundly�

Borrowing a Line from Tom Cruise from the Movie Top Gun Yaaaaahoooooooo What a Ride !!!! �

Victory Number One and I was a believer.

Jack was happy and like a fighter pilot having shot down his first foe he decided to bring the New Yorker back to its base camp.

We stayed up most of the night smoking and just reliving the first encounter.
We retold it over and over just as you would rewind a film and relive it again and again.

Deep down inside I knew in a couple of days I would have to under go another life treating operation and not knowing if it would be my last. Thinking back to this first race I think my brother wanted to have me experience something real exciting before I went in for my operation. It certainly give me a will to look forward to go through with it and come back to enjoy more adventures in the New Yorker on the streets of Newark. It was certainly something that helped me be brave and go through with it.

One thing was clear, all the attributes (The some of all its parts) of the New Yorker that Jacques had bestowed on me the very first day he got it, all worked.
� Just like the Famous Austin Martin DB5 Car did in the early 007 James Bond Movies.

Wernher Von Brown: The Father of the US Space Race would have stated: It was" A Perfect Launch".

Being with my brother Jacques was like going on an adventure with Errol Flynn never know what to expect and having a blast. Something I could never have done with out him.

You might have had faster races in your life but to me That Night in that Time In That City with That Car my brother and my best friend it is one of those treasured moments that made youth so special in remembering then��..

Next - "Grooving On A Saturday Afternoon"

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Thu, Oct 12 2006, 1:12 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Thu, Oct 12 2006, 1:12 pm

Chapter V

The 11 Street Mechanics

Setting: A Saturday Morning in Early May Jacques, James and I headed to the Corral to
work on and wash the New Yorker hoping that after we were done it would magically turn into a new car!

There is nothing more important to a young man than to tend to his car.
Washing is the first ingredient to make your car bond to your persona-- to get acquainted with all the surface of the sheet metal and bright work. You get sort of the feel of the shape of what the guys designing the sculpture of this machine felt.

As all fifties car, the New Yorker was sculptured with smooth rounded curves, not one square corner to be found anywhere on it�s outer skin.
Should I say: Voluptuous and Sexual best describes it.
.
Each one of us wore my father�s Tuscan hip high boots and applying tons of soapy suds and stream of water hoping to see that "New car finish" resurface again. Squirting each other and getting tagged from a soapy sponge for a brief moment we felt that we were in suburbia. The aroma of car wax lingered in the fresh spring air.

The Car�s radio was tuned to a New York Top 40 station, it�s a Saturday, Pop Music was at it�s best, Cokes are plentiful so were the butts.

Three guys paying homage to their new prize.

My duty was to clean the interior � special attention was given to the Dash Board
I detail it till it �Sparkled�
Then I worked on the Command Panel that housed the Push Buttons that communicated the commands to the torqueflite � Jacques went over with me that each button was to be super clean and then lubricated with fine machine oil so they function perfectly when pushed on. When I was done they worked like new. (Jacques was a stickler for mechanical perfection � must work perfectly)

Jacques gunk/cleaned the entire Engine � till it looked ""sparkling"" new.
It was the first time I studied it massive size and stature, what was most impressive were the top of the cylinder heads. Crowning the block was the Hemispherical combustion chambers valve covers with the �Chrysler Fire Power� Embossed in Red lettering, this truly was saying a statement that �Power� is produced here!

This engine looked like it was juiced with extra dosage of steroids. The entire engine looked like it was formed from a solid block of aluminum alloy.. The top had the appearance like a broad shoulder Muscle Man = Massively proportion and immensely strong looking.

In between the two large valve covers sat this humongous four chambered nozzle piece of equipment that would have looked proper on a Saturn V moon rocket as one of its main fuel supply pumps.
I ask Jacques what was that? That my boy! Is the Hemi�s Lungs, an AFB Carter 4 Barrel Carburetor designed to gulp "High Octane fuel" at a furious pace.

There were Heavy Plug Wires that looked like they could be used as Electros in a 1950�s B movie going right through the cylinders head.

Then there was the power brake booster unit hanging on the firewall that was beyond heavy duty looking.
It had a large ribbed diaphragm that went in and out each time the brakes were applied and asked for assistance.

Unlike other engine bays that I had seen, this one was free of hanging wires/ hoses that looked like a tangled up spaghetti mess.
You can see that it was very well thought out and purposely designed.
Everything under the hood looked Over- Engineered.
Real eye candy for a kid that appreciated Form- Follows- Function philosophy.
Nothing like my fathers chicken ribbed Chevy engine that suddenly was deranked to puny status.

Jacques had James and I going to Strauss the auto store on South Orange Ave getting various doodad�s Pine Air Fresher � Oil/Filter, Champion Spark Plugs and the most important item was a can of STP oil treatment which came with a red and white Decal with the leaning STP emblem on it.
We ran back to the lot with all the parts but most important to us, was that we had an STP sticker! Jacques proudly stuck it on the back side glass � Now we were certified.

We talked and hyped all the adventures we were going to experience with this new escape machine, no more walking the antagonizing sidewalks of South Orange Ave for us, we were going to fly! � Just like most of the flybys going to and from downtown to their safe places west of the city.

After all the parts that we bought were installed, the big test on our skills was about to be graded!
Jacques jumped into the cockpit and turned on the ignition and hit START button from the command console.

Like the song �Feels Like The First Time� it was climactic to hear an engine that you had worked on come to life!

Jacques jumped out and shouted �It�s Alive� �It�s Alive� in a quivering voice grabbing me and saying �Look at It� � Just Look at It!�

I could hear huge volumes of air being sucked through the big AFB carburetor (the air cleaner/silencer was off). Man! This thing takes heavy gulps of air like an inlet of a Jet Aircraft that�s idling on a runway waiting for take off��..

Jacques then looked at me in a peculiar way, like a Magician, just about to pull off a sensational trick..

I hadn�t the foggiest idea what he was up too ?????

He then stuck his hand under the hood, stared at me as he grabbed the throttle linkage and yanked it fully back.
Whaaaaummmmmmmmh the big heavy body of the New Yorker rocked and swayed up and down like it was just probed with a hot branding iron, the sound emanating sounded liked King Kong himself!
The twin back pipes exploded with thunderous blasts and spewed out hot exhaust that bounced off the back wall of the garage and I could feel the thrush of hot air rush by me behind my head!

Holy Crows!

Definitely powerfully sounding!!!!! The Engine lived up to its Name Fire Power!
The ground rumbled under my feet.

Gazing at the Hemi I was Awe Struck ----- Wow! ---- This beast wants to be set free.

Jacques coolly Click Flicked his Zippo Lighter, producing a torch like six inch flame lighting his newly hanging Winston from his lips and taking a long drag and letting out a small puff of smoke, then that devilish grin appeared,,,,,, He was happy.

This made us all smile with pride �We did it�

We broke a small Glass coke bottle to christen the New King.

So that ended the first acquaintance when boy meets car, a passion that stay with you forever��.. keeping you forever young in that aspect.
After that day my Mattey Mattel Hot Wheel car collection was given to my younger siblings.

The Boys had their New Big Bad TOY now.

The outfitting

Just like a ship that gets christened and slides down the slip, there was still a lot of outfitting to be done..

For the next several weeks Jacques poured in every one of his Tuscan pay checks into his dream machine.

1st was the interior. It was discovered that the floorboards were in bad shape.
My father always believed in industrial strength when having to redo something, so he got several sheet of stainless steel 1/8� thick star plates that was used for truck dock platforms. Jacques and he fabricated new flooring from this bulletproof material. Nothing except maybe a Mack Truck had better flooring.

Next all new carpets were professional installed.
I insisted that seat belts be installed at this time.

Then came the reupholstering of the seats. Jacques had great taste in the selection of material and looks.
The seats were decked out in white leatherette with blue iridescent seating area, which had silver threads as accent in the blue material.
The seats really looked rich when it came back from the shop.
My mother was employed upholstering the door side panels - Jacques again picked the material.
Together the interior really fitted the name New Yorker with Class.

New transparent crystal blue mats that had French lions in the center finished the opus look.
Stepping into it the first time it surely smelled like a new Car.

It had the type of feel to it that went along with the popular song �Crystal Blue Persuasion� By Tommy James & The Shondells

Jacques covered the steering wheel with a blue turquoise wrapping and finished it off with a suicide knob that had scantly dressed women on it.

New Mufflers and all new Pipes from the engine back - both resonator deleted.......

He then took it to Bear Suspension specialty shop � there the entire front end was made like new � bushings � shocks � linkage rods - wheel bearing etc.
The Torsion bars were ratcheted to extra firm.

Extra Leaf springs added to the rear � again Shackle � clamps all replace with new.

Rear End fluid changed.

The brakes were totally rebuilt to like new � every part replace including all brake lines.
New Master cylinder was also installed.

Now AAMCO Transmission performed the surgery in rebuilding the Torque Flight Transmission

New Firestone tires (the best they had) were fitted on each wheel.- the largest size tire that fitted the rimes. � (each rim was sanded and painted before installation)

Back home Jacques dumped the fresh oil that we had put in (he said it was used for the rinse cycle) He then replaced with 20/50 Valvoline Racing Oil.
He had gone to the speed shop and gotten high performance parts � points cap-rotor-wires and redid most of the work that we had done only 2 weeks ago.
He removed the power steering pump = Not needed and robs power.
Installed the largest radiator that could be fitted.
His car did not have A/C otherwise that would have gone south too.
Lastly he installed a clutch high performance fan for cooling the beast. .

Then set out to detail the engine bay � painted the embossed Fire Power in High Gloss Red.
Added two hooded lamps to light up both Cylinder heads when the hood was open.
He even tinted the bulbs with blue windshield lacquer to give it that special look at night.
The cooling fan blade tips were paint gloss yellow so when they move it made a yellow optical illusion. Every thing under the hood was painted and detail - -wires rerouted � some chrome pieces were used for accent. The HEMI looked beautify � It was a joy to see it running � I was so impressed with Jacques masterful details.

Last but not lease he had his truck area complete organized � Jack � Lug Cross bar wrench � Tool Box � Chains � Etc in handy storage boxes mounted inside each rear fender walls. � All tools were painted Safety Yellow and lubricated for fast usage if needed.

Jacques was driven to make his car mechanically the best that it can be, he was pulling in two pay checks at the time and sunk it all in to the New Yorker. He specifically left the outside of the car alone.......It was ready now for its street debut and trials.

Next --- The First Night Prowl --- ((The first Race))

Re: My Story of The Last Flight of the New York

FOXBAT008 — Mon, Oct 09 2006, 11:00 pm

Author: FOXBAT008

Posted: Mon, Oct 09 2006, 11:00 pm

Chapter IV
The Corral

Jacques rented a parking space in the large fenced in yard of our neighbor one house up from our house. 364 South 11st.
This house used to belong to a family named the King's.
Mr. King owned a construction company and used to park all of his heavy equiptment in this large fenced yard/lot.
The King�s house was definitely one of the prettiest houses on the block, it was apparent that an architect was employed in its construction.

It was the only house that had the �Leave it to Beaver" fifties style to it.
Light gray stones that had perfect masonry joints between them made up the front of the three story house. On a late sunny afternoon with the sun going down, little spackles could be seen in reflecting in the stone work.. The front windows all had light green aluminum sills that set them nicely with the stone frontage. The front door had 3 small panes of glass one above the other set at parallel angles, the door itself was made of light blond varnished wood. A very rich and fancy looking wrought iron railing decorated the front porch again not matching any other houses on the block.

Looking through the large pillared gates leading to the Lot/backyard there was an island framed by cobblestone edging next to the house that had a magnificent beautiful pink tulip tree. Along the fence facing the street grew fuzzy willows and yellow forsythia�s which give a park like setting to the side yard.. The back of the house had a fenced in upper deck for lounging � "Sunbathing".

When the kings lived there I would sometimes see their daughter Joyce take in some rays up there. Yes this house would look good in Hollywood California, especially when Joyce pulled in with her New White on white 61 T-Bird that her daddy bought her. She was a dream with her Strawberry blond curly hair and her emerald green angel eyes - and that smooth pink smile....... I was aw struck every time she pulled in to the gated yard.
I always try to be there to let her in --- Ahhhh what a moment in a young lads eyes. She looked like a diamond -"Sparkling"

Well the King�s had vacated our block like so many of our original neighbors did over the years � -------------------
I guess they all moved to greener pastures � while we stayed put.

The new owner was a Southern black gentleman. He owned hunting dogs and kept them in the fenced in yard.

I got to know him when my older brother Pierre parked his first car there (A French Car � Renault = Tin Can)

He was a knowledgeable man very patient and would answer all of my questions that I would ask of him. I liked him, he had no pretences about him � what you saw is what you got, not a phony.

Now he�s second tenant Jacques was quite different from brother Pierre, quite is really is not the word ---

A whole lot different and the southern man would soon find out how different!

Next Chapter The South 11st Machanics