Fritterin' circa 2014

by Jonathan Mellberg

In writing an automotive blog I make the general assumption that the majority of my readers may in fact be male, which makes my next question a little risky, especially for guys of my generation or younger. Have you ever seen The Music Man? It’s a musical (duh), set in the early 1900’s. A trickster traveling salesman named Harold Hill descends upon an innocent -and hopelessly naïve- Iowan town to convince them of a need for boys band. To be clear, this is when a boys band meant uniforms and brass instruments, not former Mouseketeers who all step together with their shirts off and simultaneously serenade millions of women.

In The Music Man, “Professor” Harold Hill whips the town into a frenzy by convincing them that a newly delivered billiards table will be all the young boys' tool of corruption. “Your young men will be fritterin’; fritterin’ I say!” (As in fritterin’ away their time shootin’ pool) exclaims Professor Hill, setting up his pitch to sell the town on the creation of a boy’s band. Obviously this is decades before the birth of the muscle car. For if it had been, the quiet municipality of Rivercity, Iowa would've had a lot more to worry about than a new pool table…

1967 Camaro Z/28

No, I wasn’t around in the sixties; I wasn’t even a thought. In fact, my mother was born the same year that saw the birth of the original pony car, the Ford Mustang. With its instant, phenomenal success, rivals at Chevy knew they had to think of something quick. By 1967 the boys with the bow ties launched their rebuttal, the instantly iconic Chevy Camaro. The war had begun; there’s never been a cease-fire.

Not that it would have mattered, had I been alive back then. Muscle cars may have been prevalent, but it took (for many Americans) well-padded wallets to afford these road-going monsters, and owning a Chevy Camaro was no exception. A fully armed Camaro SS 396 cost roughly $3700 in 1967; sounds paltry but when factoring in inflation that number swells to $26,348. And its junior varsity playmate, the 1967 Camaro Z/28 cost $3500, or $24,964 today.

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chevrolet_Camaro_Z_28_(02).jpg

Anyone who’s familiar with Chevy knows the SS moniker (for Super Sport, in case you ever wondered). But there’s another descriptor that's been used since the days of 60’s muscle; the “Z”. A bit more cryptic, the Z is. There’s the Z/28 (Chevy Camaro), the Z/24 (Chevy Cavalier), the Z/34 (Chevy Lumina/Monte Carlo), and let’s not forget the Z/26 (Chevy Beretta). Obviously, the Z performance denotation has never been as fully expressed or meaningful as in the Camaro, but Z packages haven’t always been exclusive to just Chevy passenger cars, either. There’s been the Z-85 and Z-71 pickup/SUV options, too. And let’s not forget the Z-51 package for Chevy’s halo car, the Corvette. Yeah, it’s a lot to keep track of. For today we’ll focus soley on the Camaro Z/28 (and no, for the record I don't know if there is supposed to be a dash ("-") or a forward paranthesee ("/") when correctly labeling Z models).

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1967_Chevrolet_Camaro_Convertible.jpg

As the Camaro was a direct response to the Mustang, so were its trim levels. While the Camaro SS was meant to battle the Mustang GT, Chevy also decided to tackle Ford on the Trans Am racing circuit with its own iteration: The Camaro Z/28. Initially a dealer-installed set of options, the Z/28 was slightly cheaper than the SS in 1967. Trans Am rules meant its engine capacity was limited to 305 cubic inches or less, with a production cap of 1000 units or less (just over 600 Z's rolled out of the factory in 1967). While the Camaro SS featured a 396 cubic-inch V8 that produced 325hp and 410lb-ft of torque, the Z/28’s 302 V8 displayed more modest figures of 290hp and 290lb-ft of torque. While the SS was capable of more factory power, some say the Z/28’s advertised measurements were laughable; dyno testing had the Z/28 displaying close to 400 horsepower. 

But it was never meant to last. We all know the story; by 1971 the sun was setting on planet muscle car. Engines that big and that powerful would take decades to reappear. The Z/28 badge hung around while the SS label disappeared until 1996, when both the Camaro SS and Camaro Z/28 sold side by side for the first time since the sixties. A ’96 SS Camaro retailed for $24,500 ($37,140 today) and the Z/28 sold for $19,390 ($29,394 today), continuing the tradition of the SS as the more expensive model.

And then the Camaro went away. Perhaps it was for the best. After all, there have been a few years of the Mustang’s continual lifespan I wouldn’t mind seeing scrubbed from existence. Of course, Chevy made a comeback-kid appearance with the all-new Camaro in 2010, eight years since the last Camaro had been built. Since its rebirth we’ve seen V6 and V8-powered Camaros. There’s still an SS option, as well thunder-striking ZL1 edition (another throwback moniker from the 60's). And just recently, after years of waiting, we finally have our Z/28 back. But it’s nothing like the original…

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Camaro_Z-28.jpg

Let me elaborate a bit. Sure, a 2014 Camaro SS starts at $34,500, waaaaay more than 1967’s SS model retailed for with at an inflation-adjusted $26,348. But here’s the thing: Today’s base, V6 Camaro starts at $23,705. And while you can’t say that it has a V8, or SS badges, you can smile contently when your “base” 2014 Camaro smokes the old 1967 Camaro SS in terms of performance. You certainly don’t need big, strong V8’s in today’s sports cars to seek the kinds of thrills that 60’s muscle produced. Sure, it’s all a bit more polished, controlled, and mitigated today. But the cheapest sports cars of 2014 are just as fast as the most brutal baddies from the muscle years, with few exceptions.

However, let's say you do want the upgrade. A high-performance 2014 V6 engine just isn’t enough. I understand; in fact I encourage it. The aforementioned Camaro SS begins breaking the bank at $34,500, which means the modern-day Z-28 model should price at around the same figures, right? Wrong! Holy cow, I’ve never seen such a price disparity in all the Camaro’s near-forty years. $55,505 sounds kinda spendy, right? Yeah, me too. But that isn’t the price for a new Z/28. For this money you get the new Camaro ZL-1; it’s the most powerful Camaro ever, but not the most expensive.

The all-new Camaro Z/28 will set you back………$72,305! (Insert mother-scolding expletive here) That’s well over double what a new Camaro SS sets you back. What the hell?! Never mind that $72,305 equates to $10,153 in 1967 dollars, never mind that a brand new 2014 Corvette starts at nearly $20K cheaper ($54,000), and never mind that the original Z/28 was to be a toned-down-yet-still-powerful alternative to its SS brother. Pshaw, I say. You can’t just resurrect a name like Z/28 and slap it on the sides of this ballistic missile with four wheels and two doors! Who do you think you are, Chevy?!

https://www.bing.com/images/search?sid=6137A2B203374FCABCC3DF9AD176FFEE&jsoncbid=0&q=camaro+z-28&qft=+filterui:license-L2_L3&FORM=R5IR41#view=detail&id=FDCB27604DF025C1216F678ED790ABA84A652CA4&selectedIndex=0

Please don’t mistake my outrage as anti-enthusiasm. I’m thrilled that Chevy exhumed the Z/28 nameplate, I’m just not sure where they get off selling a $71K factory Camaro. Its attributes are certainly attractive: 505hp from a big ol’ 7.0Litre pushrod V8, 481lb-ft of torque, a 300-lb weight reduction over the similarly deranged Camaro ZL-1. But I can’t decide if today’s Camaro Z/28 is the spiritual successor of the original 1967 model. Both are track-focused; race-car first and street-car second.

And by now you’re probably searching for a point to all this. So am I. In the early 1900’s, small communities were in an uproar over pool tables. By 1967, the Camaro’s introduction surely kept parents up all night praying for the young-ins and their “muscle” cars. But look at what we have today. The 1967 Camaro Z/28 might have been fast and exciting then, but in 2014 the Z/28 is downright scary! Luckily, for today’s parents,  it’ll take a significant windfall or years of very diligent saving for their kids to afford one. Hopefully that’ll make ma and pa fritter less…

-Thanks for reading The Wheelspin Journal-

photo by the author

The anti-summer

by Jonathan Mellberg

Despite my fervent hatred of how snow cripples my -and everyone else’s- commute, I’ll proudly admit that Christmas is my favorite time of the year. Don’t get me wrong, I love summer; and while the fourth of July seems like the favorable alternative, there is something about the Christmas season that generates a feeling of warmth. For the record, it’s not the plunging temperatures and the layered blankets of falling, frozen water.

This year, Christmas holds even more significance. It’ll be Tate and I’s first holiday in our new house, but more importantly, our first Christmas with our new daughter. By December 24^th, little Jane will still have that new car smell (aka yummy baby scent), and I can’t wait to show her this snow.

Today, November 10, 2014, was a bit rough. As this season’s introductory snowfall, Mother Nature not only graced us with her presence, she took a big ol’ dump of crystalline h2o all over the Minneapolis metro area (and the rest of the state, though as they are outside my normal commuting radius, Minnesota's remaining 85,367 square miles don't really matter). Our little town of Dayton was no less unscathed. My wife, the ever-industrious, home-making helper she is, shoveled twice before I even got home, whereupon I shoveled a third time. This came after a nine hour shift at work which began with me leaving home at 4:45 AM. And the fun didn’t end there; my part-time job meant striking out again in the evening, twenty miles west to Monticello. Helluva day to be on the roads.

https://www.bing.com/images/search?pq=snow&sc=8-4&sp=-1&sk=&q=snow&qft=+filterui:license-L1&FORM=R5IR38#view=detail&id=B4ECB73522216C4C5F074D23CA3D8A9F6A154B95&selectedIndex=171

The commute could be better, though. I’m not intimidated by weather. Aside from a tornado marching toward my direction, Mother Nature doesn’t scare me, least of all snow. It’s everyone else that gives me the willies, all those bumbling buffoons out there who annually showcase their poor skills and judgment, commencing their vehicular ham-handedness at the first sign of flurried snowflakes. Permit me, if you will, to rail against thine blight, if only for a bit.

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=snow%20falling&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=snow%20falling&sc=8-12&sp=-1&sk=#view=detail&id=73330C9F0AC98B8E7C427FFF6F60F3BBEEF6E8FD&selectedIndex=3

Beef #1: Memory wipe

Yes, we’re all rookie drivers in this year’s first snowfall. Yet somehow -as if we were all Dell laptops- Minnesota drivers seem to wipe their memory of all past Snowbelt experience. We’ve all heard that water cooler chatter that goes something like “first snow of the year and everyone forgets how to drive”. So sad, and so true.

https://www.bing.com/images/search?pq=snow+fall&sc=8-9&sp=-1&sk=&sid=817C68C09A9944488312817B7715CA4F&jsoncbid=8&q=snow+fall&qft=+filterui:license-L1&FORM=R5IR38#view=detail&id=5A2081D428B865D7511F8CC84E18DB236A28F6DF&selectedIndex=58

Beef #2: Amplifier drivers

Inclement weather always seems to bring out the widest spectrum of peculiar driving, and powder-coated highways and byways are no exception. Slow drivers are even slower; mostly grammas and grandpas and other oblivious Sunday drivers. You’ll find these peoples' caution dramatically dialed up. While everyone is marching along those shitty, snowy commutes at 30mph, these folks are strolling along at around 15-20mph. It’s no crime, granted. But there is something to be said for effectively and efficiently trudging through crappy weather, especially when you’re one of thousands sharing the road. But these types don’t upset me nearly as much as their polar opposites. You’d be as quick to recognize them as me, the types who rocket past you at ludicrous speeds. Most commonly found to be driving trucks, often with big tires, loud exhaust, raised suspension, and painfully obvious Napoleon complexes, these chaps are even less intelligent. Ice is still ice, even in a big truck; and no one is immune to its effects. If you’re really lucky, you’ll sometimes catch these fools buried in the ditch two miles down the road, and you can smile and wave as you pass them, driving at saner speeds.

https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=cars%20in%20snow&qs=n&form=QBIR&pq=cars%20in%20snow&sc=8-11&sp=-1&sk=#view=detail&id=9A1FDC1B61FF9E2D0D98361DDC81C2B2872B44D7&selectedIndex=17

Beef #3: 1,000,000,000 candlelight headlamps

Curiously enough, America has the most restrictive tolerances concerning how bright headlights are allowed to be; both Europe and Japan allow for much brighter levels. Frankly, sometimes it still seems too bright. I have to pick on trucks again for this one. You’ve seen these big rigs (no, not semi tractors) who not only have bright headlights, but impossibly bright fog lights as well. It’s like a wall of light hurling toward you (a close encounter of the annoying kind). What’s worse are those who retrofit their cars and trucks with aftermarket xenon bulbs that are even brighter. If god wanted us to see two miles ahead of ourselves he’d have made us all eagles instead.

Piggy-backing off of bright headlights is another obvious courtesy violation. Driving with your high beams on. Arrgg! I don’t get it! Every car currently on the road (OK, 99.99% of every car currently on the road) features an easy-to-find blue indicator light smack dab in the middle of the gauge cluster, letting a fellow know at all times when his high beams are on. Maybe future cars will be built with a looping message that says “Hey jerk-face, your high beams are on…”

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sneeuw1.jpg

Beef #4: Where are you going?

I’m not through with lights yet. Let me reveal perhaps my biggest pet peeve. Not because it’s so important (although it is), but because it’s so darn easy and yet soooo many people don’t do it. On every corner of every car, truck, van, and SUV (not to mention semis, army Humvee's, and Fed-Ex trucks) there is an indicator light; normally amber in the front, and either amber or red in the rear. These indicators exist for the sole purpose or non-verbal car-to-car communication. Instead of having to scream out my window “I’m turning right now!” I can simply flick my steering column stalk to the right, and presto! Both passenger side indicators (front and rear) blink in unison, until the turn is completed or until I manually disengage the blinker function. Radical, I know. Yet each day, I could count dozens, maybe even hundreds of fellow drivers who ignore this extremely user-friendly safety function as they weave in and out of lanes, enter and exit freeways, highways and byways, and generally disregard those who share the roads with them. And in bad weather, letting each other know what we are doing (ahead of time) is all the more important.

None of these bad driver character traits are exclusive to winter. Certainly, I observe horrid driving habits year round. They just seem to come out of the woodwork a bit more when snowflakes begin flying. So please, be safe out there. Don’t go too fast, don’t go too slow, remember that your high beams actually have an “off” switch, use your damn blinkers, and remind yourself that this isn’t your first Minnesota winter. Unless of course it is; in which case, watch out for that corner just up the way, it’s a little icy. Which corner, you ask? Every corner. 

-thanks for reading The Wheelspin Journal-

photo by the author

Ozone-degraded nostalgia

Sunday, October 12, 8:33 AM

My back is sore as hell; I walked like a little old lady to the bathroom this morning. I knew this would happen and yet I don’t mind. It comes with the territory. It’s not because I’m getting older (though it's surely a factor). It’s because I spent the better part of yesterday at the Holm farm in Big Lake, MN, where my in-laws live.

Saturday, October 11, 7:52 AM

We pull into the dirt driveway; the sun is up and at ‘em, effectively blinding eastbound traffic on county road 4. I’m sipping my Holiday-brand French vanilla cappuccino; it’s the first warm coffee-like drink I’ve bought all year, and at under $1.50, it’s a bargain. I’ve got all the gear I need; old gloves, a hat, a scarf, and layers of clothing. I haven’t done this in a while, and by this I mean hard, manual labor in 27-degree weather. Yep, I’m kind of a weenie; I may hold three different jobs, but all of them are inside and involve and desk and a chair. I don’t get to roll up my sleeves all that often and do real man’s work. But today I’m helping my father-in-law Doug (along with the help of my brother-in-law Wes) tackle the arduous task of chopping up a shitload of tree logs. After all, winter is coming.

my father-in-law Doug Holm

I brought my wife, Tate, with too. She’ll stay inside and keep her mother, Val, company. At this point she is still very much pregnant, and I discourage any manual labor she attempts, including whining (just kidding, honey). Me and the guys mosey outside and head out back behind the barn. The structure blocks the sun for the better part of the morning. What at first feels too cold eventually becomes optimal working weather; you don’t sweat too much, and the legions of mosquitoes have already fallen victim to Mother Nature’s changing of the guard.

To help us with our work is a heavy duty pickup truck with a dumper box in place of the regular, stationary bed. We’ve also got a diesel-powered Bobcat to aid in our efforts. There are two chainsaws, but one isn’t functioning, and it’s the new one (go figure). The heart of the operation is definitely the trusty, gas-powered, hydraulic-utilizing log splitter. It’s old; if it were a person it’d be old enough to earn a driver’s license. And it’s already had one heart transplant (the engine was replaced a few years back). But it still works; it works damn well, in fact.

Doug's trust ol' one-ton pickup

All around us are piles of wood; big piles. There’s still lots of work to do. Big fat trunks need to be sliced up with the chain saw then moved over to the splitter to be incrementally chopped up so as to fit into the wood stove that helps heat the Holm residence. It’s tedious, not to mention tough. Some of these chunks are quite heavy; some even require two men to move. But the single-minded nature of the work brings a certain pleasure to the experience; you know what you have to do and you know how much there is to do. As the hours pass and the fruits of our labor become more evident, continuing not only seems logical but preferable. Why stop now when we can get more done!

The log splitter rarely meets a tree limb it can’t muscle through; the put-put-put of its small engine providing the backing soundtrack to our work, kinda like the rhythm guitar. The lead guitar then would definitely be the chainsaw. Much louder, it draws attention as it eats through the trees, spitting sawdust every which way. Its exhaust is seemingly more prevalent as well. And when I catch a whiff it floods me with that small-engine nostalgia that could only come from the kind of pollution generated by internal combustion engines. It makes me think of the snowmobile we had growing up. Funny how the smell of deadly exhaust fumes can be so intoxicating. OK, intoxicating may be a bit too romantic a word for this subject. Let’s go with alluring. Satisfied?

my work buddy, the log splitter

Between Doug, Wes, and me, I think we made a pretty good team. And before we knew it, it was lunch time. Hooray! After debating on whether or not to invade the pizza that Tate had picked up from the local Pizza Pub, we decided to take our fiendish hunger elsewhere. The three of us hopped into Doug’s bright red Silverado pickup and headed into nearby Zimmerman to dine at Papa’s Italian. I love Doug’s new truck; it’s big and cushy, and comfortable even in the back seat. And when it starts the 5.3Litre V8 kicks out a guttural grumble thanks to aftermarket dual exhaust. It’s enough to remind you of its power, but never gets annoying, like the pipes on those trucks with bumper stickers that read “loud pipes save lives”. Codswallop; loud pipes only tick people off, even motor heads like me. Chest-pounding males have struggled with their own various inadequacies for centuries, millennia, even. And the automobile has often served as their manifested Napoleon complex. But that’s another blog…a long blog.

Doug's 2010 Chevy Silverado

At Papa’s Italian, Wes and I order calzones, and Doug orders lasagna. And damnit if they didn't have the best tasting fountain Mello Yellow I’ve had in a long time. That alone was worth the trip. We talk about this and that, and frequently about the automobile. On the ride back to the house we see a 1967 Chevy Impala.

Doug's toys: '49 Chevy Pickup, '79 One-ton, 2010 Silverado

Despite each of us stuffing ourselves at lunch, our work ethic appears intact. Besides, there’s only about another hour of work left for the day. The last sixty minutes comes and goes quickly, and by the time we’re finished we’ve chopped a mountain of split wood; we even split enough wood to get casa de Holm through an entire winter.

roughly half of our finished wood pile

But as the work stops, the tire of our toil sets in. I ask Tate to drive, but she doesn’t want to. It’s OK; I’ve got just enough juice in me to get us home without dozing off. I’m fully prepared to pass out in bed for the next two hours as we walk through our doorway, but Tate politely asks me to rid myself of the working man’s perfume: A petrol-burning mix of diesel and gas-fueled exhaust. A shower is in order.

The future may consist of the images we see in the movies, where cars silently roll around, powered by batteries instead of internal-combustion engines. Where the gardeners use lasers to whip weeds and Bobcats are replaced by hover-dollies. Whatever our bright future holds for us, if it’s without gasoline and the various engines it powers, it just won’t be the same. Maybe that makes me a dinosaur, or maybe you’ve never taken a whiff of snowmobile exhaust; and if so, that’s your loss.

Fall back

By Jonathan Mellberg
photos by the author

What a year this has been. Sure, there’s another 50-ish days left, but I’m not talking about the calendar year. Let’s break it down: Bachelor party in Las Vegas last September (which was also my first experience flying on a major airliner), married a couple weeks later, honeymoon in October, broke my clavicle in Hawaii (on the same honeymoon), found out we were pregnant in January, bought our first house in February, totaled my car in a nasty rear-end collision shortly after, took on a 2nd part-time job at Menards in May, quit Menards in September, and welcomed my brand new baby girl on October 17^th, 2014. Like I said, what a year it’s been.

meet Jane Charlotte Mellberg, my daughter

And that’s not including this blog! I launched my first blog in August of this year. Since then I’ve penned 21 blogs (including this one). The fruits of my labor have been satisfying, if only by modest standards. TheWheelspinJournal.com has collected over 1,100 page views. Sure, some of those were from my mother (a faithful reader), and some were even from me; after all, I need to make sure this thing runs and looks OK! And while it hasn’t even been six months yet, I feel this has been one great summer for being a car lover. For example…

Tesla Model S

On my July birthday (my 30^th, no less) I drove -for the first time in my life- a Ferrari; a Ferrari F430 coupe, to be exact. As intoxicating as that was I experienced another automobile that was every bit as amazing: The new Tesla Model S, a full electric. I chased that by test driving the BMW i3 (another E-car) as well as the Nissan Leaf (a very poor man’s Tesla). Other test drives included the Scion FR-S and the Mini Cooper S Countryman. Both were quite enjoyable.

yours truly behind a Ferrari F430

But my test drives weren’t limited to just new cars, no sir. My good friends Dustin and Cheyenne let me get my mitts on their twins: Their Silverado SS and Trailblazer SS. In the process we also managed to finagle a test drive in the all-new Chevy SS Sedan, which not only instilled the fear of god in me (thanks to Dustin’s unabashed driving) but convinced me to give up my dream of owning a Corvette and instead try to procure such an athletic four-door sports car as the SS sedan.

Trailblazer SS, wrapped in matte black vinyl

I axed a major bucket list item when an acquaintance of my wife let me take his precious 1967 Chevelle SS 396 out for a drive. It was magical. Not only was it my first interview and test drive, but my first real drive behind the wheel of such a classic, iconic car as the Chevelle. And what a beautiful specimen it was.

yours truly driving a mint '67 Chevelle SS

But these weren’t the only ways I got my automotive fix. I hit plenty of car shows this year, too. Car Craft, an annual favorite, was a hit and featured very pleasant weather for July. I also spent a great deal of the month’s first Saturdays in Chanhassen at Automotorplex for Cars & Coffee, a monthly event that brings hundreds, if not thousands, to its free shows. I’ve seen cars in person this year that I thought I might never see in my lifetime. Cars like the Saleen S7 Twin Turbo, the Porsche 959, and of course, the mighty Bugatti Veyron Vitesse. I actually saw that Bugatti multiple times. It was nirvana. And it still is.

a gorgeous Shelby Mustang from MN Car Craft 2014

And now the year is winding down. As I write this, the temperature outdoors struggles to reach 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and it will only get worse from there. Boats have been pulled from the lakes; pools have been drained and covered. And as hibernation begins, so goes all the cars that make summer so wonderful in Minnesota. Cars like my friend’s 1995 Corvette convertible he just bought (way to go Mr. Welty!). And that ’67 Chevelle I spoke of earlier? She’ll be swaddled in her custom car cover and tucked away in the garage until next April. Any chances of spying Ferraris, Porches, Lambos, or even lesser demigods is quickly diminishing. Soon all we’ll see is snow.

Porsche 959, in the flesh in Chanhassen, MN

Bugatti Veyron Vitesse at Cars & Coffee

I’ve decided to cut back on blogging, to temporarily hibernate. I’ll downshift from two blogs per week to one. As the cool cars begin hiding, so do my chances on driving them. Besides, I’ve got a new daughter to get to know. And with the holidays right around the corner it’s another great excuse on cutting back and enjoying life a little more.

That being said, I’m very much looking forward to next spring. I’d like to turn up the volume and really have some fun next year. I don’t know how exactly I’m going to accomplish that, but several ideas are already in the hopper. And some of those ideas require your help.

Ford Fairlane from the weekly Anoka car show

I lucked out this year. My amazing drive with the ’67 Chevelle SS materialized because my wife grew up with the children of Rory Berg, the owner. That was an easier “in”. And my time with the twin Chevy SS trucks was obviously aided because they are owned by friends of mine. But I plan on driving many more cars, and learning the unique stories behind each one. And though I have no qualms about approaching total strangers and propositioning them for a test drive and interview, it would be nice to also get to know friends of friends, family of family, and the machines they own. And so, this is my request to you: If you happen to know someone with a rumbling muscle car, a tire-squealing sports car, or an otherwise unique or special auto -and you think the owner might enjoy an exposition on them and their car- drop me a line and let me know. I’d be happy to look into every opportunity involving man (and woman) and machine.

Rory Berg's amazing '67 Chevelle SS

I’d also like to explore a little bit next year. I read about all these cool roads and trails, like the Tail of the Dragon in Tennessee and the Rubicon trail in Nevada. I’m not sure if lovely Minnesota is as blessed with awesome driving passages, but I’d very much like to find out. I’m very curious about the northern iron range and would like to round up the old gang (from my bachelor party in Vegas) and try tackling the 4x4 trails there with a Hummer or a Jeep. But if there are any great roads you like to cruise off the beaten path, please let me know. I’d love to find some new favorites.

And what about car shows? I know next year will yield similar experiences to 2014, like Car Craft and Cars & Coffee, but I’d like to try to hit a few more. This year I discovered that Anoka holds a weekly car show near the courthouse every Saturday night. I was able to catch the last one of the season, which was great. And I’d like to make my way up to Brainerd for one of the summer’s many events up there. Again, any suggestions my readers have, throw ‘em my way.

So there, you have your assignment. Any cars you know, roads you know, or shows you know, send them my way, if you’d please. In the meantime, The Wheelspin Journal will be setting the cruise control to one blog per week, every Thursday. 

-Thanks for reading The Wheelspin Journal-

photo by the author