2001 Hot Rod Virtual Power Tour - Day Nine, May 11

LIST OF ALL DAYS

We made it. We’re tired, dirty, burnt and low on fuel, but we’re happy, too. We got here more or less in one piece, so we’re now part of the Long Haul Gang, and damn proud of it. Today, we walk a little taller and stare down those guys in gussied-up trailer queens with a look that says, "Pretty is as pretty does, boy."

No smugness here, though, because experiencing the Long Haul is the Great Equalizer, a trip that can humble even the most hardened hot rodder with blown gaskets, boiled radiators and busted rearends. We’re still waiting to hear of all the trials and tribulations, and as the tales of the Tour trickle in, we’ll add them to this Web site, along with the volumes of photos and videos we took, so check back from time to time and see what else surfaces.

Although there were so many remarkable people and cars on this year’s tour, one Long Hauler in particular stands out in my mind. Norm Cooper of Vassar, Michigan didn’t have the cherriest ride—far from it. His intentionally funky Model A is actually a carefully crafted simulation of what old hot rods used to look like, before the advent of show queens (see photos below right). "You wouldn’t believe how much work it takes to make a car look like a piece of s---," he laughs.

The body is actually fiberglass, which he traded for a gallon of paint. He created rust spots by throwing sawdust into the primer, and using spatter paint on the new headers and chromed headlights. He shoved some straw in the front suspension a year or more ago, and has left it there since, along with a dead bird in grille. A farmer gave him the old flatmotor, and Norm tied a greasy rag on it for effect, but the corroded air cleaners are gennies. The bird droppings on the engine and cowl are real as well, after he accidentally parked the car under a swallow’s nest. He liked the guano graphics so much, he decided to leave them alone. In the cockpit, there are some fake dead mice in a nest on the floorboards, and a Mexican blanket serves as seat upholstery (upon which passersby throw spare change to help Norm pay for oil and gas). An old heater box from a Buick conceals a modern cassette player. When the weather is bad, Norm dons a tattered, leather flying helmet, which he says makes a big difference, even though he initially got it just for looks.

Norm Cooper’s inelegant conveyance captured not only the early spirit of hot rodding on Route 66, but also the current can-do attitude of the Tour. "Before the Power Tour, I had never driven this car more than 60 miles from home," he admitted. "I said, 'Screw it!' and just decided to go for it. I've never had so much fun in my life." Total investment in the car? Under $1000. Value of doing the Power Tour? Priceless.

For your Online Editor--a Power Tour virgin, but now a veteran--it was more demanding and more exhilarating than I ever imagined. A personal word of thanks should go out to my fellow Tourers who lent a hand just when I began to succumb to fatigue and frustration from too many midnight uploads. Now I know why everybody keeps coming back to the Tour. It’s the camaraderie of the road, the bonding of fellow travelers under duress. Would I do it again? Well, right now, I just want to sleep in my own bed and not be woken before dawn by a blown Chevy cranking over and the rumble of twin pipes--but gimme a week to think about it.