Gearhead Greetings

I recently heard the fab tune “Santa Drives a Hot Rod” and it got me thinking. I sincerely believe it to be true that Papa Santa Clause drives a sweet ride, however, I’m not quite sure exactly which hot rod the Fat Man takes on his trip around the big blue marble. So, while going through my pictures from the past year I started to pick out some prime candidates for Old St. Nick. I’m sure any one of these candidates would land me on the nice list for sure.

Tis the season to think about, among other things, what you want, want, want. Right? Well, after 8 months of looking at what everyone else has, I just thought I’d put what I want out there. It is the season for miracles. Now, here is what I’d like to see under my tree or perhaps more appropriately in my garage. A wise man once told me to dream big and I intend to do so. It never hurts to ask.

Oh it is that time of year for our favorite greahead tale. Believe it or not I’ve even had some requests for this. Now without delay, I’m so happy to bring you the third annual telling of the Legend of the Flathead Cruiser.

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the shop not a creature was stirring all the work had just stopped. The tools were all hung on the peg board with care, in hopes that Santa soon would be there.

The cars were all parked safely covered in the garage, my Roadster, my Pickup and even my Hemi Dodge. My wife in her robe and I in my Batman p.j.’s had just settled down after shopping for days.

When out on the driveway there arose such a clatter, it sounded to me just like pressure plate chatter. On to the driveway I flew like a flash, I tripped over the dog and landed in the trash.

When there in the driveway beneath the moon and the stars sat a Model A Coupe with chrome ladder bars. As I walked up closer to get a better view I noticed a blown flathead and cheater slicks too.

There behind the wheel sat a driver so tuff, with tattoos, an earring and a beard so ruff. Dressed in black leather he looked like a bruiser, I knew right away he must be the Flathead Cruiser.

He said “I pulled second, I pulled third, then I heard a big bang. Things started to smoke, things stared to clang. I spotted your big garage with hope of repair.” His back seat was full of presents, but I tried not to stare.

“If you can fix my Ford and make it shift right I will give you these gifts for ruining your night.” We opened the door and pushed the Ford in, before I got underneath, he gave me a wink and a grin.

The headers were hot, the slicks were sticky, the blow-proof bell housing would make the job tricky. I turned on my droplight and gave it a look, the big 3 inch exhaust was making me cook.

Where there to my surprise what did I see The four tranny bolts had wiggled themselves free. I grabbed my trusty torque wrench and started to turn, as I tightened the last one I could smell my sleeves burn.

He slid behind the wheel and then fired up the mill, as I directed him out , just listening to it idle, gave me a chill. A big blown Flattie with two 94’s up top, chrome reverse rims and a 2 inch suspension drop.

He eased it out to the street and set the line lock, I knew this wouldn’t be quiet, probably wake the whole block. He revved it to 6 grand and let the clutch pop, as the rubber and smoke poured from the tires I spotted a cop!

He released the line lock and let the Ford loose, this baby was ALL MOTOR with no signs of juice. He fishtailed sideways, grabbed third with plenty of guts, with Police in full chase he yelled out for all ….


This was sent to me by a friend and I wanted to share it with my gear head Nation. Thanks Too Tall.

Wishing you and yours Happy Holidays! – Pony Girl