No, not that secret. The closet can be comfortable for a long time, homie. My secret is that, while i talk all kinds of shit about not liking TV, i’m a huge fan of game shows…..
“I’ve Got a Secret” was a gameshow hosted by Garry Moore, and ran from 1952-67. It was a Mark Goodson, Bill Todman production– and from watching game shows as a kid, is seems they did lots of the best chit.
The purpose of the show was that contestants would come on to be quizzed by a panel of 4, who would attempt to guess what the contestants secret was. The more people the contestant stumped, the more cash he/she won.
I wonder if there was opportunity to win the Barris built Golden Sahara back on this episode of “I’ve Got a Secret.”
That’s fucking beautiful huh?
On the topic of game shows— The other day i just saw some guy doing cheerleader leaps and tried a damn cartwheel, while french kissing ugly ass Drew Carry. Why was this fuck-nut so excited?– Because he won a pair of new Lincolns in the Showcase Showdown of the Price is Right.
Drew Carry is no Bob Barker– he’s fucking lame and i want to break his glasses. So, let me do the right thing– rewind a bit, put on my tuxedo, kick Drew’s ass, step into the show, and fix things up….
I wonder how our contestant, Mr. Excitement, will react when i take out those two new Lincolns and put the Golden Sahara in its place in the Showcase Showdown? How much would he guess? I’d guess is that he probably would look confused, totally puss out and try the old one dollar technique….
Well, when im the host the contestants that don’t have a clue and don’t respect the booty (winnings, pervert) would never win– to the satisfaction and amusement of the audience….. One dollar? Nope– no Golden Sahara for you, ass jack. Pack your excited ass back in your Toyota Prius and get the hell outta’ Hollywood (insert the “you lost” on the Price is Right jingle music right here.)
NOTE TO DREW: You’re not man enough to kiss the female contestants and molest the models righteously. You’re killing Bob’s tradition, and it’s pissing me off. I’m comin’ for your job, four eyes.
With the economy a bit sideways (i’m currently in London, where the dollar pretty much isn’t worth shit comparatively anymore,) it makes me think back to the Depression era of America, and times of pain, desperation, discontent.
Coming up uneducated and starting from not much of anything but a good family base, in addition to spending some years in the boxing ring, i’ve had just a hint of learning experience that shows that many times you just don’t get to where you need to be until you experience some good ol’ traditional pain…. Pain through deeply buried itching hope. Desperation. Pain through hard work and a taste of hunger. Pain through dedication, perseverance. In essence, how can you really be a fighter if you haven’t ever been beat up?
In essence i’m suggesting that pain can do great things in building character.
What i’ve experienced isn’t shit compared to the depression era times… That said, look into the faces and deepy into the eyes of the kids of this depression era, heartland U.S, kindergarten classroom. The eyes and the face tell the story quite well. Also notice the kid in the front who didn’t have any shoes– it was all too common back then…
These are the boys and girls that grew up into the men and women who won World War II. They knew suffering, they knew pain– yet they had hope and drive in their hearts….. they were fighters, and arguably America’s greatest generation.
Do you remember hunger? If not, have no fear– destiny could always decide to take you there….
America’s greatest generation– created by depression, hunger, pain….. and hope.
P.S: Comparatively to my past, i’m pretty much a gold chainer nowadays as a more senior goon in the tech industry. Therefore, don’t fall for feeling sorry for any past tales of desperation. I’m a fat, spoiled little bitch nowadays and am not sure i deserve it. I type this post selfishly to remind myself not to forget the hunger of my past…
Cheers from London…. I’m here for work for a couple days and am not really stoked about it. This really gets in the way of my yearly memorial day Paso (now Santa Maria) car show trip…
The flight over on British Airways was uneventful– but they sure do feed you too like a pig in Gold Chainer class. I took the time to play around with Solidworks 2007, the new CAD program i’m learning. I’m using this program to finish design on the Cadillac flathead heads that i’ve been working on (intake following.) The design is based on improvements in the original Edmunds heads that i have, and share a similar look. A very limited edition (numbered pairs of 50) will be produced, with the Noteboom name on them. I’ll be ready to share pics of my rapid prototype soon.
Started to watch the “P.S. I Love You” movie on the flight and had to turn it off. The movie is about a dude who dies of an illness and leaves his wife alone– who has to cope with the death. Anyway– i pretty much turned into an emotional fag watching this movie (since i was in a tough spot, medically, recently) and had to turn it so i wouldn’t cry like a girl. I sure do hope i’m on the mend, as i don’t want to leave my girls like that… I also tried to watch “I am Legend” with Will Smith, which was looking good– until the damn thing froze up. The end of my attempt to watch big studio movies (which i havent done in a while.)
On Sunday i went to Fort Bragg (4 hrs north from San Jose, on the coast) because i felt like going on a drive and being by myself. Yesterday my wife accused me of going to visit another women. Damn, im caught. Here’s a picture of her fine ass–as my wife knows, i’ve always gone for the older women….
Oh, and one last thing…….. On my website, i’m able to see what search queries from places like Yahoo and Google end up on my site. Lot’s of people search for “Scott Noteboom” and end up here, which is kinda creepy. Today, other searches included examples such as: “noteboom,” “2k high build primer,” “singapore WWII antiques,” etc… My favorite search of the day that ended up here…..? Well, somebody actually went to Yahoo Search and typed “i’m not voting for that nigger”—- and Yahoo pointed him/her to my site. Go figure– i’m not running for office, and i’m really getting shit talked to me lately….. first i got called the “M” word, and now i’m being called the “N” word. What’s next, the “O” word? OOOOOOO, don’t you call me a mutha’ fucking Oompa Loompa, or we gonna have a problem, partna’!
Being an uneducated fuck (yep, im an everything drop-out,) I learn my history from chattin’ it up with the old timers….
My daughter and i had a yard sale this morning. We didnt hit the jackpot too much due to the fact that it’s hotter than a mother fucker here (by the way, how did “mother fuckers” get so historically hot anyway?)
I had the 1940 Ford project outside for the first time since i painted the cab to look for flaws. The truck seemed to track more attention than my junk sale…
That said, the truck attracted a neighbor, Lou, to stop by (my daughter called him the “grumpy old man”– so the truck must have tamed him) and introduce himself. Being lonely and 82 years old, that introduction turned into a 3 hr conversation. He wanted to talk, and i liked what he was talking (plus i sensed he needed someone to talk to.) Among other things:
- Lou was born in Chicago in 1926. Go figure, but the “Harlem” Globetrotters actually started in Chicago that same year….
- His father decided to move west and work on the docks, so he moved to SF in 1936. 1936 was the first year the Bay Bridge opened in SF….
- First job was delivering papers at 13. By 15, he bought his first car– a “1934 Dodge 5-window coupe with a rumble seat.” It looked something like this….
- By age 17, Lou was on out on his own and also working at the docks, where his old man helped him get a job. By this year (1943,) the SF Waterfront was the West Coast’s premier, modern cargo port….
- Quickly thereafter, we went into World War II and was sent to South France in Operation Anvil…
- Following the war, he settled down and eventually moved to the South Bay, where he worked for a lot of years for Ford Motor Co in Milpitas, doing production line maintenance. He retired in 1985, after shutting down the plant for good.
- After he retired (see lesson below,) he built this baby– which he still has today. A Gatsby kit car. Interesting, as this company was out of San Jose. You can see pics of their kit price brochure here.
SIMPLE OLD TIMER LESSONS OF THE DAY LEARNED FROM LOU:
1) “A retired man is a dead man.”– Men never should never retire– they always need to stay busy. Lou has a great shop in his garage and i see him working out there everyday.
2) Lou’s secret to good health (he hauls ass in his 80′s)– “You need to love what you do. If you don’t change.”
3) Lou’s lesson on women– “A women is a mother forever. Once the kids grow up, they’ll treat you like the child. Let them, as they always need to be mothers.”
4) Lou’s lesson on parenting– “Always be very close to your daughter. Whores are created by daughters that don’t have good fathers.” (even as the “mean old man,” he said my daughter was a great little gal.)
5) Lou’s lesson on technology’– “What did you just say?” (with a concerned look,) when i told him that i worked for “Yahoo!” He had no clue what Yahoo was and i see he wondered why the hell i would call myself a Yahoo and why would a company be called Yahoo. Lou doesnt do Internet.
I love hanging out with old timers. Many times they love to talk and need someone to talk to. Thanks, Lou.
I’ve been putting a lot of time studying the early Indy 500 and road races. Im particularly interested in it, as one of my relatives raced in the first Indy 500 in 1911, amongst other cool things he did (evolved from buggies into his own car company (Frayer-Miller,) first V6 in a production car, etc.) Anyway, here is my favorite early race picture– not of him, but of the Marmon Wasp:
This picture is of Ray Harroun in his #32 Marmon Wasp– crossing the line as winner of the first Indy.
As i’ve stated several times on my blog, my great-great grandfather, Lee Frayer, also raced in the first Indy. He started in position #26, and finished in 13th. Here’s some pics of one of his race cars, the #16 Frayer Miller:
COMING SOON: Since i dont have any good side pics of Lee racing that matches the brilliance of the Marmon Wasp picture above (don’t you just love the skewed wheels caused by high speed and old camera ?,) I wanna have the concept and angle of that photo, merged with even more agressive wheel skew front & back, with Lee’s #16 car shown above, and made into a nice black & white tattoo. I wanna have that the car framed with “Frayer” on the top and “Richenbacker” on the bottom in early 20th century style font sy.
I’m fortunate enough to have a couple good tattoo artist friends who “get it” when it comes to old cars– so i’m half way doing this blog post so that i can send them a link to see what they think.
Whitney must have mistaken crack for single track, but i suppose they both take you downhill….. (drumroll– what a fucking lame, corny wise crack– must be the meds.)
Anyway, it’s getting to be nice outside. I just posted the other day that i’ve been craving to ride my motosickle– and i just ordered the battery i need last night. Well, i also have really been craving some mountain biking….
Haven’t thought or talked about it much, but i used to ride a lot and race cross country mountain bikes back in the 90′s– and loved it. Was a fairly good amateur (expert) who would have made a very mediocre professional (i dont have superman genetics, and my hard drinking back then got in the way.) I spent a lot of hours on the bike and it was good for me.
Since injuries seem to be my theme lately, i’ll mention that i stopped racing bikes because i was hit head on by car while training one day. Caved in the old A-Pillar of the windshield and fucked myself up enough that my body was done spending hours on a saddle (several broken lumbar, etc.)
Thus my lifelong hospital role call…. 1) Tonsils out as kid; 2) Broken arm on Quad (ATV); 3) Bike accident above; 4) Infamous ball injury kickboxing; and 5) My latest drama. Not too bad of a list, i guess. I hate the hospital though. It fucking annoys the hell out of me that it seems like this year i’ve spent about 5% of my time typing about and dealing with injury. Fuck that– im done and it’s about health for the rest of the year.
Anyway– I’m jonesin’ for some mountain biking. I think it’s about time to get a new bike (mine went missing about 2 years ago.) I’d love to get one for my daughter too, go on rides with her and get her into it….
“It’s been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first.”
- Ronald Reagan
(P.S.- Won’t comment on Reagan policy or presidency. Personally he seemed like a neat guy though, and i appreciated his writing and communication skills. An old, dear friend, Harriet, used to live next door to him… only story i heard was that he was cheap.)
I thought the combination of this guys Hilary advertising and the above quote kinda combined nicely to send a good message of the day….
Finished paint on my wifes 1940 Ford Pickup, so now it’s going back together. Next i doing front drop axle w/ reversed eye spring + splitting wishbones. In the back im raising spring mount. End result will be traditional hot rode lowered stance.
Look im going for in this truck is 1948-1951 Bonneville push truck….. for my future project– The Famous in Peace, Distinguished in Battle Flathead Caddy powered Model A Roadster.
Speaking of the Roadster project…. It wont begin for quite a while, but i’ve been collecting parts. For those that dont know, Edmunds flathead Cadillac intake and heads are rarest of the rare. Im stoked…
’31 Roadster body:
Lastly, i really need to get the battery that i need as im itching to ride this week badly….
My pal Iowahawk may not have known it, but that mutha’ fucka’ did worse than call me the “N” word. He took it to the next level and called me the mutha’ fuckin’ “M” word!
Oh no he didnt!
Oh yes he did– and i felt like beating his ass like Reginald Denny for saying that shit. You can talk about my Mamma, but don’t you dare call me the “M” word…..
He may have not known it (and i normally wouldn’t admit this “mid life crisis” embarrassment,) but those two words fucked with me. I still thought of myself as a youngin’. Hell, it wasn’t long ago that i was fighting in the ring (im a retired Golden Gloves boxer / Muay Thai kickboxer.) I still skateboard. Damn it. Middle Aged?….. Fuck that, my glass isn’t half empty!
Then this week the brief mid life crisis ended and my viewpoint on life has changed completely….
On Cinco De Mayo i was noticing that my crap was looking funny– black and tar like. From my past as a fighter (when i was knocked senseless and consumed so much blood into my stomach,) i knew it was old blood. I was also getting bad stomach pains by that night. Concerned, i reached out to my doctor– and she told me to immediately get to the emergency room…
Yeah….. i’ll admint it– the doctor stuck his finger up my ass for a fecal sample. But that really isn’t shit compared to what’s to come….
After testing the sample and confirming blood, i learned i needed to get a tube down the nose and into my stomach so that they could pump my stomach & check for blood. Getting that tube sucked, and as it went down it triggered my gag reflex and i puked…… what seemed like a gallon of blood all over myself and others. I looked down at the blood, and the portrait of my daughter on my forearm– and that was it….. i thought i was going to die. While i made my best effort of a brave face, inside at that moment i was thinking the worse– and i was scared.
That night the bleeding stopped, my stomach was pumped and i was put to bed in ICU so that i could await the joy of the next days “camera down the throat” test to determine my destiny towards life or death (my fear was cancer.) I didn’t sleep a wink, and i prepared myself for tomorrows judgment– all the while listening to my roommate barely hang onto life.
My neighbor in intensive care was Don, a gentlemen who was about 80 years old. Cancer was deep into it’s evil deed and he was here preparing for his last trip home to die. The next morning he was chipper and told me stories about his service in World War II. Later that day hospital staff closed the curtain between us so that they could talk to him about his “do not resessitate” paperwork before he went home. I cried as i heard him bravely say he was ready to go when god comes calling for him, and told his wife that she was beautiful and that he loved her.
The end was near for Don, and at the same time he prepared to die, i learned i would live– i just had esophagus ulcers, and they can heal easily w/ medication and diligence.
Somewhere along in my world travels over the past year i caught the h.pylori bacteria and it’s been secretly helping eat away at my lower esophagus. I had no idea of what was happening until this week, when it finally hit a large blood vessel and i started bleeding from both ends.
The next day i left ICU to stay in the “regular” part of the hospital. As i left, Don tried his best to smile and told me how great it was that i was leaving, because i sounded in bad shape the night before. God bless you Don. I don’t even know your last name, but i will never forget you.
My next room mate was Eduardo, a 72 year old man with late state Alzheimer’s. He took this trip to the hospital because his son and family can no longer care for him. He’s now completely delusional and doesn’t know who he is, where he is or who his family is. He’s trapped in a dark world, afraid and the life he once knew was over.
Whenever someone tried to touch Eduardo, he’d panic and attack. I smiled for him as i watched him punch one lame hospital orderly in the face. He fought his restraints through much of the night. For 72 yrs old, his body looked healthy, but his mind was gone. We didnt bond like i did with Don (because i think he thought i was there to kill him,) but I’ll always remember Eduardo too.
I’m glad to be home. I’m on medication that will help heal my esophagus– the doctor said in about 3 months it’ll be completely healed if i follow directions. In 5-6 weeks my red blood cell count will be back to normal (it’s very low for a while, since i lost so much blood and refused transfusion.) I’m not going to die, like i thought i was 2 nights before– and im on the mend to being back to my former, healthy self.
Sitting here thinking about my experience and Iowahawk’s comment, i now have to say that I’M STOKED if i’m really middle aged and i’d love nothing more to be. Hell, i don’t even remember 1971 when i was born– and my glass of life could still be half full? Fuck yeah!
When you look at things via the right perspective, how could you not LOVE being called the “M” word ?
-scott noteboom
BTW: Disclaimer– According to my Mamma, we’ve got color in the family tree. Thus, in this case i believe i gotta pass to use the ‘M’ word as necessary in appropriate places. Besides i just almost died and am still half way delirious. So, no need to beat ME like Reginald Denny….
iowahawk somehow convinced a gal to join us goons that work on Bolus– so we’re no longer just all about balls anymore. More good stuff coming soon, so go check it out…
