By the early Summer of 1988, “The Jag” was operational, although it was still a long way from “done”…
After over a year of sanding Bondo, I had completed the bodywork, and the whole car was now in grey primer. The engine was in and operational, and most of the bigger kinks were worked out with that, and so the car was out of the basement and up in the garage now. Progress had kind of stalled – mostly due to a lack of funds for the final push – which seemed to require bigger outlays of money than the monthly gallon of Bondo – paint – interior, missing chrome, a top, etc. On top of all of that, we had built the car over the past 2 years without a title, and getting one was starting to get to be a real issue. SO the car had no paperwork, and of course, no license plate. I was 16, and just finishing up Junior year. My birthday was in September, and I had originally planned to have the Jag done by then, but that came and went, and now it was looking like finishing it over the Summer and having it for Senior year was almost a certainty. I loved the car more every day – not only for the pride I had in what I had accomplished over the past 3 years, but now seeing it up on the street in it’s full glory, I was more sure than ever that the somehow “magical” bright future it seemed to promise would soon appear…
The Summer before, my parents had bought a small beach house in Fenwick Island, De, which was about 2.5 hours South of our house, and now that Summer was here, they were going there pretty much every weekend with my sister, but I was staying home to hang out with my friends and “work on the Jag”… What I was really doing was DRIVING it – alot…
Actually, looking back on it, I really don’t have an explanation for why my parents would leave me home alone with it. I guess in hindsight, they wouldn’t – but this was before I had become a real terror on the roads, and the “destroyer of cars” – wrecking or blowing up just about everything I got behind the wheel of. At this point, I was just a kid driving a Chevy station wagon to them I guess – who knows. The only thing I can really come up with that makes any real sense is that I “couldn’t drive stick…” – which I have a vague recollection of maybe playing up somewhat when they were around.
The truth is that THE VERY FIRST NIGHT I was home alone with it, I took it out. I waited about 20 minutes after they left on a Friday afternoon to make sure they weren’t coming back, pushed it out of the garage, and hit that little black button for the first time that REALLY mattered. True, I had never driven a stick, but years of “wasting” my intelligence on the Jag left me with a brain that worked kind of like an episode of CSI – when I pushed the pedals or shifted gears, I could see the full train of what happened from there in my head – clutch master cylinder pushing fluid to the slave, the rod pushing the fork, the diaphragm of the clutch releasing – the whole bit, and it took to about the end of the street to get the hang of it. Plus, no one in the history of mankind has ever had as much incentive to learn to drive a stick – I wanted to figure it out – BAD!
And so for about an hour on a Friday afternoon, I drove it all over the neighborhood at slow speed. Then later that night, my two best friends – Buddy Martin and Greg Dixon – came over and we took it out again… It was just a little before midnight…
One thing that is an important detail of this part of the story is that it didn’t have an exhaust system yet. Instead, there were just two 3″ header collectors that dumped outward just behind the front wheels. They were an old set of headers that were on the car just so we could run the engine in the chassis for testing, etc. And so to say it was LOUD doesn’t even BEGIN to describe the noise – especially in a development in the suburbs… So slowly, we made it out of the development, with me now already having figured out how to feather the throttle to get the engine to run at just that perfect RPM where it was somewhat quiet. We ended up down in a valley on a dark country road that headed out of the back of the development, and I just FLOORED it.
I have to tell you, my heart is racing now just thinking about it. The Jag just ERUPTED into a deafening roar of the engine redlining, the wheels spinning wildly, and blue flame shot out of the headers about 4 feet on each side of the car, and then before you could really even take that all in, it just TOOK OFF! I never even hesitated, and while the shifting left alot to be desired, ran through second and third before I eventually ran out of road, and had to STAND on the brakes to slow the car down, because that was one of the systems that “wasn’t quite worked out yet” to say the least. When the car finally came to a stop, Greg and Buddy went absolutely nuts. I can still see the looks on their faces and hear the screaming sitting here now – it was GREAT! It was a mix of excitement, testosterone, noise, fuel, and fire that you never forget… But what REALLY added that extra spice to the whole thing was that it was SOOOOOOOO forbidden – I was so far outside of the lines it was scary, and it was the greatest feeling I ever felt (sex was still a ways off…)
Now we THOUGHT we were real slick, because we had driven through the neighborhood so “quietly” by comparison, and only really got on it on a back road. But what you don’t really think about or realize when you are a kid is that when you are “out” of the neighborhood on that road, your’e really just making a big circle AROUND the neighborhood, and not that far away at all… So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when one of my neighbors came out of his house when we pulled into the driveway and went COMPLETELY OUT OF HIS MIND on me!
I’ll remember what he said until the day I die – “Does your father know you’re out catting around in this thing!?!”
“Catting Around?…” I replied – for some unknown reason I guess I decided that irritating him further would be best…
“Yeah that’s what I said! Does he!?!”
“No…”
“You’re Damn right he doesn’t!” At which point he turned around and left. Needless to say, I put the Jag away, Greg and Buddy left, and I laid awake all night worried sick about getting caught. Of course, in the morning, I went back over to the guy’s house, and gave him an apology like John Cleese in A Fish Called Wanda when he’s hanging upside down out the window… And as far as I know, the neighbors never ratted me out… And I know that because that was just the FIRST time…
Soon after that, we got an exhaust system on the car. Actually, my father did it himself one weekend while I was at the beach with my mother and sister. BIG mistake… The open headers had kept me from driving it for about the past 6 weeks – even though I wanted to – BAD. But now that it was quieter, and some time had gone by, my bravery was back up I guess, and so as soon as they left for the weekend again, it was GAME ON!
Still in grey primer, still no top, and no paperwork or license plate either… Luckily we lived kind of out in the middle of nowhere, and while we did live in a big development, it was kind of “the last frontier”, and just beyond that was farmland that seemed to stretch on endlessly when you’re only 16. I picked up Dixon on Friday night and we drove it around a bit, but I was NERVOUS! I was still worried about getting turned ion by the neighbors, and straying too far from home could mean all kinds of things – cops, a breakdown, who knows… I also couldn’t go to a gas station in it, and had to flll cans up with the station wagon and bring them back to the house. Not to mention I was POOR, and 5 or 6 gallons of premium gas was ALOT of money! So on that first night, we took it easy, always sticking to back roads, and only really crossing into “civilization” to pick up Greg.
The next detail – and really the most important one for this story is that while the Jag had a brand new Realistic AM/FM-Cassette player, it had no antennae, and so it was ALL tapes… At this point, I was into oldies HEAVY – it was all part of the whole Jag mystique – 60’s car, 60’s music… Well, Greg was more of a Classic Rock guy, and after the first night, he decided that maybe he’d better “improve” the musical selection…
The next night was Saturday, and I had all day to stock up on gas, a little more courage, and truth be told, a few beers. I picked up Greg again, and then we turned around and headed out “into the country…” There was a road that headed away from my development and into Pennsylvania – which was only about 4 miles away. The road got really narrow and twisted and turned through a thick woods, and when you came out the other side, you were in PA and the whole scene changed – it was ALL farms at that point – it was almost like crossing into another universe…
And it was about at this point into the night when Greg finally said, “OK, this music sucks, we’re putting in my music.” It was Eagles Greatest Hits – Volume 1…
We drove, and drove, and drove – for hours. The Jag had a problem with the brake fluid overheating and locking up the brakes (which I eventually determined was due to the brake pedal being off by one notch on the splined shaft in the pedal box so that the reservoirs aren’t open to the system at rest…) – and so every once in a while we had to find a place to stop and “hide” while the brakes cooled off. And we’d sit there out in the moonlight on the edge of some farm field, drinking warm beer and listening to The Eagles – that was where it all started.
The whole thing is still so vivid – it was a treat for all of the senses for two kids so young. The noises of the Jag – the whine of the transmission which was totally uncovered and right between us, coupled with the now somewhat muffled roar of the engine… The smells – unburned fuel, 90W oil dripping onto the exhaust and burning, and the ever-present smell of mushroom soil in Southern Chester County, PA… And the sights – open country road in the darkness – barely illuminated by those haunting covered headlamps… A lifetime of automotive excitement has never even come close to those few nights out in the Jag – in grey primer – with Greg and The Eagles… Sometimes I think that subliminally, I’ve spent a lifetime just trying to get back to those nights…
If a picture is worth a thousand words, THIS one is worth a million… This is a picture of the Jag soon after she finally made it out of the basement and was moved up to the street for initial testing. Note the open headers (in white) that dump just behind the front wheels. Next to it is my parents’ 1984 Mercedes 380SL (more on that in subsequent stories…) This was about mid-April of 1988 – now that I think about it, I think this photo MIGHT actually have been taken the morning after the “maiden voyage” with Greg and Buddy! Either way, THIS is what the Jag looked like for some of the most exciting nights of my life – the forbidden cruises with Greg and the Eagles, in the moonlight of the wee small hours of the morning… I can’t look at this photo without ALL of it coming back – the sounds, the smells, and most of all, the heart-pounding emotion of it all. Honestly, I don’t think I – or Greg – was ever the same after that. The whole thing was like a fairy tale – The Jag was cool during the day, but we would wait until about midnight, push it out of the garage, and it was like it came to life! Just like I had dreamed for years, somehow this little machine took us to a place where is seemed like the whole world was ours for the taking – and the way it made us both feel launched a lifetime of adventure – and one hell of a friendship!
And so, soon, The Eagles became the soundtrack of the Jag, and then soon the music of our whole crew, throughout Senior year. I played my first cassette of Greatest Hits Volume 1 so many times it eventually just wore out… Here are some of the favorites:
Hotel California – of course we quickly moved on to Greatest Hits Volume 2, and Hotel California is the first song. You have to remember that unlike today’s music on iPods, etc. – or even CD’s which weren’t really out in mass yet at that time, you usually just started a tape at the beginning, and so as soon as I would pick up Greg, we would pop in the tape, and Hotel California would be the first song. So those opening guitar chords just take me RIGHT BACK to all of this – every single time…
New Kid In Town – this was Greg’s favorite song on Volume 2. I know that because we discussed the music ad-infinitum – and in the days before the Internet, Greg WAS the Internet as far as classic Rock was concerned – he knew it all – and all of the background. I liked this song because I felt like in a few months, when Senior year started and I rolled into school with the Jag, that CHUCK would be “the new kid in town”…
Lyin’ Eyes – our favorite – of course… EVERYBODY eventually goes through a phase where they can’t get enough of this song… This happened to us early in Senior year, when we ALL had girlfriends, and we all hung out together all the time. the girls loved it, and I have more than one memory of all of us singing it together.
Heartache Tonight – our love of The Eagles music really never went away, and so it was still going strong in college. I swear to God – it’s ironic but it’s true – Heartache Tonight was playing in the Jag one night after dinner while Greg and I were washing it in my parents driveway, when my father and I ended up in a fist-fight in the front yard…
After The Thrill is Gone – Girlfriends came and went in high school and college, but with my intensity and passion, I of course REALLY went off the deep end on a couple of the break-ups… Toward the end of college when I was living at home for the Summer, my parent’s instituted a new rule of “if you’re not going to be home by midnight, don’t come home at all. This shit where you roll in at 3 o’clock in the morning isn’t getting it…” – and so many nights that Summer I would fail to land the girl I was chasing for the evening, and find myself alone at 1:00 in the morning, feeling sorry for myself usually and my mind drifting back to “the ones that got away…” And for lack of anywhere else to go, I would drive up to Somerset Lake, park by the edge of the water, and sleep in the Jag, listening to this song…
Take It To The Limit – At first, and all through Senior Year, this was just another song on side 2 of volume 1… I don’t think I had ever REALLY heard it. Then we all went down to my parents’ beach house for “Senior Week” – the days between the last day of school and graduation day where you just try to raise as much hell as possible – and we did. But we were good kids – we all had decent grades, steady girlfriends, and beer was our only vice. So raising hell mostly consisted of pool hopping and shit like that… We had a blast, and eventually they all left on a Tuesday afternoon and I stayed behind to close up the house, and then finally headed home in the Jag. I was driving up 113 in lower Delaware on the way home from “the final hurrah” of high school and this song came on. Now, we had all been in Calculus together, and I for one HATED it – I think I got a “D” in it which is ridiculous for a person with my intelligence, but I just wasn’t into it… In Calculus, there is a construct or concept or whatever you want to call it of “the limit of 1 as it approaches zero” or some shit like that… At any rate, I had heard this teacher, Mr. Geiger, say “Take the limit” like a million times in this class, and I just wanted to be ANYWHERE else! But that day in the Jag, I heard this song and for the first time it made me think of that – and how I would just love to do it ALL over again – to “Take it to the limit – one more time…”
Greg passed away in October of 2011 – Brain cancer… He was the quintessential “best friend”… We stayed together from those first drives, right through until the end… He was right there for all of it – we went to college together – girlfriends, wives, houses, jobs, kids – the works… We loved each other, we fought like cats and dogs, and in so many ways we were each others’ brother, father, and son… No one ever challenged me as much, and no one ever believed in me as much. His parting words were, “Give ’em Hell, Charlie…”
Earlier today, Glenn Frey passed away… He (along with Don Henley) was really the driving force behind The Eagles, and wrote those songs we loved so much back then. Of course we never met, although Greg and I did FINALLY make it to an Eagles concert in the Fall of 2008 – it was a real milestone for us. But Glenn Frey had a big impact on my life – he wrote the soundtrack for: my youth, a great friendship, and an unbelievable adventure one kid had in a British Sports car… And so for the first time in my life, I cried over a celebrity dying – probably more because of what his music had meant to Greg and I, but it got to me all the same…
I built the Jag, but it took some good music and a great friend to bring the dream to life.
And while they’re both gone now, I’ll still think of them both – daily. Because tomorrow is another day of this great life they helped me create – and I’ll be spending it doing what I love best…
Building the dream – surrounded by E-Types – in grey primer…
…and still listening to the Eagles. After I wrote this blog, I pulled out Greg’s record collection which I inherited, and there it was… This is Greg’s copy of Eagles Greatest Hits Volume 1 – the same record he used to make that tape – 28 years ago…
