I kept that F-85 for a couple of years and, gradually, it got transformed into an NHRA Stock class drag car. Although not as mechanically knowledgeable as some of my friends, with their help I did what I thought I could afford, to improve the car's performance. Imagine my disappointment when, after spending a couple of thousand dollars that I could little afford, the car was actually slower down the quarter mile than before! I had raced the car at the Mission drag strip, completely untouched, and had run consistent mid-fourteens, at just under a hundred miles per hour -- respectable for a street-driven "showroom stock" muscle car of the time. Now, when I was expecting to drop a couple of tenths -- hoping for three or four, really! -- I could only manage 14.9's in the low 90's! (Later, with better information and more experience in performance tuning, I realized that my motor was starving for fuel; I hadn't gone far enough with the project.) As things turned out, I missed my chances with that car's potential and, given the resources and opportunity, I'd enjoy giving it another try. That car brought a lot of fun into my life, despite its shortcomings. Not long afterward, I was forced to give up my involvement with high-performance cars, in general, and the Olds, particularly. I was too far into debt and couldn't afford to keep the car, much less continue racing. It would be almost fifteen years before I found the time and money to resume my love affair with speed and performance.
In the meantime, I had started university, then dropped out and moved to a small community, hundreds of miles from the West Coast streets and lifestyle. By now, I had joined the counter-culture, living in an old mining town with the hippies and the loggers. Not many street rods or race cars in this neck of the woods! I drove what I could afford -- an old, beat-up '49 Mercury pickup -- and travelled around with a dog and an acoustic guitar. That old truck took me all around the southern half of British Columbia, as well as all the way to San José (!) and back to Canada... but it rattled and clunked and was about as low performance as anything on the road! Along the way, I had other, 'funky' rides, including a ridiculous International 4x4 tow truck/flatdeck with a thrashed 283 Chev motor that promptly threw a rod, the first time I drove it any distance. Married by now, with a child on the way, I had to endure some serious wifely scorn over that pile of junk! Rightly so....
It was time for a family car. An enormous Mercury Meteor with a gas-guzzling 352 V-8 came first and when that one finally died, an even bigger Chrysler four-door, running a 383. Not muscle cars but getting closer. Still needing a truck (hauling loads of firewood for the winter was part of the lifestyle, right?), the family's second vehicle was a great old '68 Chev half-ton that had belonged to my wife's brother. But my need for speed was calling again; so, when a deal came along on a project vehicle, I found myself suddenly back in the world of high performance... in a truck! A '55 Chev, stepside shortbox truck, with a 350 Chev motor, four-barrel, headers and all. It was a bit primitive, with the old 'crunch-'em' truck gear box, skinny tires, and the dents, primer and rust; but it would gallop along at pretty good speed and sounded pretty impressive, too. It wasn't too hard on gas,either, and I was having fun on the road again. My wife and I were separated, by now; she had moved to another part of the country, with my son, and I had plenty of free time and a decent income, for the first time in over a decade. And there was the project truck! After driving it for a while, I came across another '55 stepside Chevy truck, in much better shape and already partly restored; it was time to accelerate the project!