August 8, 2007

"She's real fine, my 409..."

By Stan Dyer

Everyone who remembers The Beach Boys remembers that line and the song it came from, but I wonder how many of them know what a 409 is? When I was younger, I sang along to the catchy tune, but I really had no idea what it was about except that it was some type of car. Now that I am older and a young friend of mine, George Arvidson, is about to turn sixteen years old, I wax nostalgic about when I was sixteen and bought my first car, a 1962 "Bubble Top" Chevy Bel-Air. That's right, the four speed, dual quad, positraction four-oh-nine The Beach Boys sang about in the early 1960's, and it was all mine, sort of. To me, it was just a car, but I discovered it came with the gift of knowledge and an unexpected education.

In high school, I was very academically focused. I didn't have horn rims or a pocket protector, but there was that distinct scent of nerd all about me. I was also more than just a bit naïve. One day, I was in my room pondering the politics of Andrew Jackson in dealing with the Cherokee Indians, when my stepfather burst through the door. Of course, he didn't knock.

He was very excited and asked me if I had $100. It seems a friend of his, Adolph Holsan, (who lived down the block), just bought a new car and wanted to sell his old one. Adolph made the mistake of telling Wes, my stepfather, that he'd "sell it for $100 if he could sell it today". The car was worth a lot more and I really don't think he wanted to sell the car for $100, but he did and he made many people very happy with the gesture. It became the car I used to learn how to work on cars, and that's where much of the knowledge and education I've shared with many came from.

I did almost all my "firsts" on that car. My first tune-up, my first oil change, and my first radiator flush. In addition to routine maintenance, I also replaced the starter, the generator, the water pump, and almost everything else "external" on the car. I was never a motor head, and I never had a lot of money, so the car remained pretty much stock and I never got my hands greasy "inside" the engine. I was, however, fortunate enough to work at a small, used-car lot the summer before my senior year in high school. The service manager there, John LeFurge, taught me a lot about fixing cars. It was invaluable information, but, even though he was a Chevy man, not even he told me about the 409.

Some people refer to the 1962 "Bubble-Top" as the Sleeper of all time. That's because it looked like "Clark Kent" on the outside, and few people knew "Superman" was hiding under the hood. The 1962 version of the 409 engine came with new block casting, cast alloy heads, bigger intake valves and an 11.0:1 compression ratio. You could get it with a single Carter four-barrel carburetor, two four-barrels (dual quads), or three four barrels (Tri-Power). The "Positraction" differential was still another upgrade. Those upgrades cost a bit more, but they made the car track ready right from the factory. At the track in 1962, one 409 did the quarter mile in 12.22 seconds, or 115 miles per hour. Producing 409 horsepower, this car did a legitimate zero to sixty in four seconds flat, and would sure get you to the library fast. You could also get a tame, "family" version of the car, and, I have to admit, that was the version I had.

It was a long time ago, but I remember my car having a single, two-barrel Rochester carburetor on a mild-mannered 283 cubic inch engine. Oh, yeah, I also had the two-speed automatic, and no positraction. It was probably just as well. The 283 was a good, reliable engine and easy to work on since it was housed in an engine compartment made to hold a big block Chevy. I really came to appreciate that fact as I grew older and encountered tight spaces and smog controls, but I never had a clue about the beast that was meant to live in the "cave", and I laugh when I think back.

I remember people whose eyes lit up when I told them what I drove, but how the sparkle diminished when they discovered which power plant I actually had. I also remember a friend of mine telling me that his brother warned him not to race me, but I wasn't sure why. I'd be at a stoplight on my way to class while contemplating my next term paper and hear the roar of glass packs to my left. I would look over and see some guy glaring at me, bobbing his head and revving his engine. I'd just smile and wave. Apparently, they all knew about the 409, and I just couldn't care less. I never did develop the need for speed, but I did learn a little bit about working on cars.

Over the years, I've benefited greatly from being able to work on my own car, and help other people with theirs. I still can't do everything, but I can do a lot and I've shared my knowledge more than a few times. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was out for a run when woman in a newer Land Rover pulled over to ask directions. She barely stopped when steam started coming from under her hood. Fortunately for her, she blew a radiator hose right in front of the guy who bought the hundred dollar 409 when he was 16 and learned how to work on cars. She had no idea what was going on. I quickly ran home, got the parts I needed and had her back on the road in 30 minutes. She, on the other hand, just glazed over when I told her what happened and what I was doing to fix her car. She gave the impression that her knowledge of automobiles ended with knowing where to put her hands, where to put her feet and where to put her keys. She didn't even know where her temperature gauge was. I know I saved her a tow, but I seriously think she would have tried to drive that engine once it stopped steaming and ruined it. I might have saved her a lot more.

As the Land Rover woman drove away, I was reminded of my good fortune in life in being so self-reliant, so capable, and able to learn from most experiences. I may never acquire a large amount of wealth, but the priceless knowledge and experience I accumulate through the years are things no one can ever buy and no one can ever take away. I was also reminded of that day I laid down $100 and walked away with a 1962 "Bubble-Top" Chevrolet Bel-Air. Who knew a $100 used car came with so much knowledge and an education? I smiled, and a song came into my head, "Giddy up, Giddy up, 409!"