I sucked…hard…No, really…really…

The title of this entry is absolutely accurate.

However, as much as I hate to admit that I sucked, it also doesn’t matter that I sucked. In fact, sucking allowed me to do more than if I’d nailed it.

What is “it” you ask?

Stunt Driving School. (Yes, I really did suck at it. Me, with all my cars and working on them, too. Yes, me. I sucked. Hard. I can’t believe it either…Well, maybe I can.)

Honestly, it wasn’t that I couldn’t drive. It was my stupid brain that kept making me do everything at once, rather than finding the right cadence. In essence, I was just too nervous. I wanted to do soooooo well that my very own desire to kick ass hindered my performance.

Not to mention that I ended up too girly to get the rear wheels locked up every time. I tried to use the one car with the foot brake, but I eventually bruised my foot because I’d stood on the pedal so hard so many times.

But y’know, none of any of my reasons for failure matters because I learned a helluva lot about driving and about myself. And honestly, if I hadn’t sucked, I wouldn’t have gotten to know the teacher and his assistants so well. They’re such a great group of guys. Really top notch in everything. Always willing to help and even answered stupid questions for researching some of the stunts in Driven to Distraction.

Bottom line, the teacher saw that underneath all my sucking, I really did want to learn and I had a passion for cars. He tried everything he could think of in order to get me to stop sucking, but I just somehow couldn’t. Still, he saw through.

And gave me an opportunity to take the class again.

I still sucked…just not as hard. I still learned a helluva lot more, too. And because I’d bruised my foot during the first class, I had to use the cars with the hand brake instead. I still had trouble getting a good lock up, sometimes, but I definitely did better overall.

A few of the highlights are as follows:

~ When my teacher successfully pissed me off enough to get a good pull on the hand brake and I did a nearly perfect sliding 90 box park.
~ In the middle of the second day when my teacher looked me straight in the eye and said, “You’re starting to get it.” (In that instant, I swear I almost cried.)
~ During lunch when he took me out in my Viper and got it up to 130 before running out of stopping distance.

The experience and adventure was absolutely incredible.

I’ll definitely be back. I gotta quit sucking one of these days and pass the darn class!

…Although, it seems I learned more by doing poorly. Hmmmm… Maybe I should keep sucking after all…

I’m like totally fer sure

Over the weekend, I got to see Berlin in concert. I had a fantastic time.

More importantly, I got to wear a ‘like totally’ 80s dress.

Which reminded me that I really gotta take more pictures.

Bones

Night shoot. Well, kinda. More like a get-there-before-dark-and-leave-when-it’s-still-dark. Usually night shoots last until the sun comes up.

Anyhow, I was a ‘fight club patron with car’. I gladly brought my Viper.

After misjudging traffic by more than an hour (I’m still shocked that the Sepulveda pass was not utterly jammed at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon), I parked my car and sat in it for about a half hour before heading to base camp. This was one of those rare occasions when they say there’ll be a shuttle from parking to base camp, but there isn’t. And then it didn’t matter because base camp was about a block away. I’ve walked further to catch shuttles.

Okay, now, as an extra there are a few events right at the beginning of the shoot which can make or break the experience. This show, made it. Oh hell yeah.

I was walking with another guy who’d been early. When we got into base camp, there was a friendly-looking guy making what to the street racer world is the spinning finger circle denoting that there’s a cop nearby, but in Hollywood, that’s the signal that the camera’s rolling, so be quiet and stay still until the moment passes (can be as long as maybe ten minutes, but is usually somewhere just under a minute). Then, the fellow showed us to where holding was–and sounded welcoming. Weird. Extras are usually treated like a necessary evil.

From that first moment, myself and the guy I’d walked in with agreed that this was going to be a pretty good night. We hadn’t been to the set yet, but if one person was that cool toward extras, there’d likely be lots more.

Our call time coincided with the end of the lunch break, but the extras got to go through the chow line, too. Awesome, awesome, awesome. If I’d’ve known, I wouldn’t’ve eaten before I came. (See, I’m really not used to being treated so well.)

I survived wadrobe by having to change into what I thought was one of the least likely things I’d brought: my violet/black vinyl snakeskin pants, burgundy tank top and black burn-through velvet blouse. That meant that while my shoulders would freeze, my legs would bake. Believe me, that was a billion times better than a spaghetti strap minidress. Night calls get cold no matter what time of year it is.

Anyway, I spent the down time reading a book about the Hundred Years War while in holding.

Funny thing, though, I got to see something I’d never seen before… While in holding, we could see through windows out into the warehouse where there was an SUV parked between two screens. What looked like a suburban neighborhood scrolled by, projected on both sides as though the SUV was in motion.

Not that I didn’t know about the technique, I’d just never seen it done. Being that close to it was kinda disorienting, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. Weird, but nifty. I love Hollywood.

Anyway, when the time came, I went out to bring my Viper around and was directed to park it near the entrance. I’m still amazed that I got it shoe-horned into the tiny spot they wanted it. Thankfully, they never treated me like ‘a girl’. Sometimes, when I’m in any of my cars, I get treated like I can’t drive before I’ve even proven myself. It’s just like when I get asked if my ’68 Mustang Fastback is my boyfriend’s or husband’s car. Grrrr… Anyway, the guys on this show seemed to accept me for me and that was awesome.

The 2nd AD was very thorough with us extras. Admittedly, he did have a lot of time to place us, but it was really nice of him to walk us through our crosses and make sure we knew what he wanted to see out of us. That was nice. Consequently, we didn’t get yelled at, we got directed during the shooting.

The scene was about three minutes and all of us extras just had long crosses through the parking lot into the warehouse. Simple stuff, but stretched out over a long time.

Both the big stars were there. I know my best friend was jealous that I’d get to see David Boreanaz again. (I was on Angel a few years ago.) He’s so friggin’ hot.

And I almost ran him over after I was instructed to move my car. There just wasn’t a whole lot of clearance between one of the trucks and the corner of the building. It wasn’t a near-miss or anything. He and the other actor he was walking with yielded and I waved my thanks. I was a little terrified, but whatever. I had to get my car parked and run back to set.

But the parking structure was closed. And there was nothing but red curbs near base camp.

I finally got the last spot after moving a traffic cone that I nearly didn’t see and almost ran over. By the time I hoofed it back to base camp, the 2nd AD was wrapping various people. I was gladly one of them. WooHoo! I got to go home after a short day–well, night.

Great gig. I wish more were like this one.

Brothers and Sisters

Good golly it has been ages since my last gig.

Okay, Brothers and Sisters. It’s a new TV show with a huge ensemble cast. There were familiar faces plus a few I recognized: Sally Field, Calista Flockhart and Balthazar Getty.

And I must say everyone was looking wonderful–despite the shot being a funeral.

This was my first trip to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery and I wish I’d had more time to explore. I suppose I’ll have to go back in order to pay my respects to William Desmond Taylor, Rudolph Valentino, Florence Lawrence and others. I did, however see Mel Blanc’s grave. That was the street I was instructed to park my Viper on when I arrived.

My trip through wardrobe wasn’t surprising. I always try to wear something that might spark interest in diversity, so it was no surprise when I had to change. Every show loves my plain black pants. (Thanks Mom for buying those for me in, like, 1990)(They’re good pants, and I wore them so infrequently that they’re still black!)(And now that every costumer under the sun loves them, I dry clean them to keep them black!) The costumer gave me a black shirt with beige flowers. She sounded apologetic when she gave it to me, but I really didn’t care. It wasn’t ugly. It was considerably more conservative than I usually wore, but it wasn’t a bad shirt.

My biggest objection to anything was simply that I didn’t want to be wearing black on a 90+ degree day outside in the sun, but as this was a funeral, there was no chance of wearing anything other than black.

Once through wardrobe, I was instructed to stay with my car. No biggie. I pulled out my blanket and layed it on the grass over some nice people’s graves and sat down to read a book–A Horrible History of England by Terry Deary. It wasn’t for another hour or so that I pulled out my folding chair. And then, of course, it was time to go to the set.

All the cars got turned around and in line to go about a block down the cemetery road to provide a backdrop for the memorial. It was going to be a day of leaving the car parked while I worked. Cool… ‘Cause ‘drive-forward, back-up’ in my Viper can get super expensive.

When everyone was being placed, I did my best to get in the shade. At that, I succeeded, however, during the first shot, I was literally behind one of those standing bouquets of flowers. I’ve learned never to take offense and to just let the day go on as it will.

Wise choice. As it turned out hours later, there was even one shot where they gave me my very own mark on the grass. Oddly enough, in order to frame the shot properly, I was standing in front of the line of cast members. Weird, very weird. But nifty in the same manner.

There were several shots of the memorial itself and several more shots of everyone breaking up and going to our cars. And I think I really had the toughest job of all. See, once the flowers were gone, I had a straight shot of Balthazar Getty. So there I stood, for hours on end, forced to look at such a beautiful man. Oh, the hardship! (OMG I wanted to call Jen just to tell her how hot he was in person. Very intense in his acting, yet easy with a smile and a joke between takes. I have one word to describe him: Yummy!)

Anyway, somehow, I ended up working in every dispersal shot except one. Depending on the footage they edit together, you might be able to see me walking away in both directions!

I mentioned it, but no one seemed to care. And because of that, I assumed the shots weren’t very wide and if I’m seen at all, I’m only a blur. Fine by me. I get paid whether I’m on camera or not. It’ll just be funny if can pick myself out of both directions.

I wish I had more action and adventure on this one–seeing as how it’s my first one back from that bizarre, extended hiatus I unintentionally took. Oh well… I still have yet to cash in my ticket to stunt driving school (And I gotta do that this year!) Hopefully, I’ll get a few more exciting gigs soon.

Getting it done

And here we have the final post about the engine swap experience. I only wish I could’ve done an mp3 of starting up the car. 1) I didn’t even think of it. 2) If I had, it would’ve prolonged turning the key. I was so jazzed that my car was finally back together that I simply couldn’t wait a moment longer than necessary.

That final day, Jason and I were putting the last bits on the engine and buttoning everything up. As you can see in the following pic, I was glad that yoga is such a big part of my life now. Not only am I even more impossibly flexible, I’m also a lot stronger and both of those qualities come in handy while working on cars… Well at least they do for me!

The following is Jason’s favorite pic of the adventure. The car is together and we’re just about to start it. Right after this shot, we opened the garage door and I turned the key…and gas promptly leaked out of the fuel rail. Arrrrrrrrrgh! We didn’t get to officially start the car until the next day after I made a parts run. And wouldn’t ya know it? The darn thing started as though I’d just parked the car an hour ago. What an awesome sound that is, too–a new engine starting up. Yeah, there’s smoke and weirdness, but there’s also nothing like the satisfaction of a job well done.

Actually, I think that previous pic might’ve been just after I’d put in the starter. With headers on the car, it’s impossible to get the starter in without cranking the steering wheel. Jason had taken the starter out but then couldn’t figure out how to get it back in. He cranked the wheel while I went under while the car was still jacked up…And discovered that because starters are so heavy and my arms are so wimpy, the only way I’ve been able to wrestle with and install them is because my forearm happens to be the perfect length to tilt my hand back, cradling the starter while shoving it into place. We had to set the car back onto the ground because my arm got too tired holding up the damn starter! I’ve learned the funniest things about myself and how I work on cars…

Anyhow, this last shot (sorry it’s dark, my flash didn’t go off when I needed it), is after the test drive. My valve covers didn’t have baffles in them and too much oil was coming out of the breathers. We used Eddie’s method of tying red shop rags around the bases. Worked brilliantly! (And it’d be months before I solved this problem more permanently!)

There you have it!!!!! I’m a chick who works on cars and you’ve seen the photographic proof!

Getting it together

This post is a little weak on pictures. I have no idea why, but I only snapped a shot before I started working and then one later when I was done…but of myself, not the engine. Whatever.

Everything needed to be put on the front, everything needed to be hooked up. Everything, everything, everything except installing the headers…because Jason promised he’d help with that. I dunno why, but I wasn’t gonna turn down free help, either!

The following picture is an example of what I was always hated for. I used to work in a theatrical scene shop. I own grubby clothes and even coveralls, but rarely wear them unless I know without a doubt there’s a significant chance of getting dirty. Back in the day, I’d paint set pieces, backdrops, build stuff and somehow by the time I left the shop, my clothes would still be clean. Maybe a little dusty, but nothing I couldn’t brush off. I’ve done the same while working on cars, too. Yeah, it’s messy business, but a lot can be done without having to get dirty. Jason marvels at how my clothes remain clean even when there’s motor oil and grease gooping about.

And here I am, displaying my filthy hands and white shirt with only to two tiny dots of dirt after spending several hours getting the car back together. Granted, I stayed topside–anything on my back would’ve required either getting dirty or laying down on a towel, so I refrained–but there you have it… Only two little spots–one of which, the camera didn’t even pick up.

This post reminds me of one of my very first automotive expeditions. I was in my first year of college and had owned this car for about two months when I embarked on my first real project. I’d diagnosed the problem (car was overheating despite being full of coolant. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the coolant wasn’t circulating. Diagnosis=stuck/bad thermostat), opened my still-white-paged Chilton manual and read up on what to do while cross-referencing with my autoshop textbooks. (Good golly, that was sooooooo long ago!) At the time, my car was still as I’d gotten it from the previous owner…never been cleaned under the hood. It didn’t have any leaks, but it certainly had 20 years+ of road grime under there.

I sighed…I didn’t have coveralls yet, so I was going to have to make a few decisions. I went into my room and ever-so-carefully chose a t-shirt and jeans that I could get dirty–maybe even ruin–and be okay with that. This was very difficult for me. I loved my clothes very much and would never intentionally ruin them.

A few hours, a lot of new knowledge, and some impressive cussing later, I not only had a car that didn’t overheat, I had an absolutely filthy set of grubbies–properly seasoned as working-on-the-car clothes. Obviously, my mom wasn’t going to let me put those in with the regular laundry for fear of ruining other clothes, so they were set aside.

To this day, I have no idea how, but my mom got those filthy clothes completely free of stains! And suddenly, I was so pissed! I’d spent so long agonizing over which clothes to ruin and she’d gone and cleaned away my medals of honor. I laughed and thanked her, but darnit! all my proof of being a chick who worked on cars was gone. Oh, the horror!

I still chuckle whenever I think about it. Obviously, Mom and I are from two different worlds when it comes to dirt and it’s a damn good thing because otherwise, I doubt I would’ve learned how to stay so miraculously clean while I work!

Getting it in

Here it is. That crucial moment requiring a little bit of dancing. Jason and Jay are getting the new engine lined up with the tranny.

Eddie’s steering the picker.

It’s really, really close to being ready to bolt up.

And at long last, the boys are watching the topside while I crawl underneath to mate the flexplate with the torque converter. It’s a damn good thing I’m skinny! Between the floor jack under the tranny, the legs of the hoist and the car itself, I barely had enough room to do anything under there.

And here it is…with Eddie pointing to it. I have no idea why.

I’d like to say that the hard part is done, but really, nothing about any of this is truly hard. It’s just time consuming, tedious, and messy. In fact, whenever another woman asks me if it’s hard to work on cars, I usually say, “C’mon. Think about it. If a *guy* can do it…” And she usually replies with a knowing chuckle, “Good point. Probably pretty easy, then, huh?”

It can be.

But then again… I’m just a dumb girl. I dunno anything about cars.

Up next will be reassembly. Y’know, making the car actually run and drive. I sometimes think that’s the fun part.

It’s also the least fun sometimes because this is when you discover how many parts/nuts/bolts/etc. you forgot to pick up before you started the project. I swear, one of the worst things about working on cars is forgetting that damn $2 part. Y’know, like oil, a new battery cable, a few feet of fuel line or vacuum line. You can’t run the car without ’em and it’s amazing how easy they are to forget until that very moment when you can’t hook something up or get something together. And then the car gets stuck sitting until you can make that parts run. Ugh.

Almost ready to put it in…

You’ve seen some of my favorite pics from this odyssey. Here’s a shot of my favorite surprise… Ever since I picked out the parts to build my first engine, I’d wanted full roller rockers, but always had to settle on roller tips because to have both roller tip and roller fulcrum was always too expensive. Jason got this engine from T&L and I don’t believe we specified which rocker arms we wanted. So, when we had to swap the old valve covers for the new, I was beyond the valley of elated to discover a tiny little dream of mine had come true without any effort on my part. Notice the immense glee…

Once again, I have no idea what Eddie was doing, but my neighbor, Jay, and I were putting on the valve covers, getting ready to get the show on the road.

Here’s a bonus shot. I don’t know why I was so thrilled with the Dart heads at this point. I mean, it was their fault I had to do all the grinding on the headers.

Although, those heads are probably responsible for a lot of the new power I’m driving. My car gets a lot of attention (well more than it used to, at least) when I pull up to stoplights or cruise through parking lots. It’s not only louder, it’s got the old Ford firing order and sounds meeeeeeeeeeeeeean. One of these days, I’m gonna get Jason into the Viper or the Corvette and see how my dinky 347 measures up. My guess is that there’s still no replacement for displacement, but holy-gas-mileage, Batman, I’m driving one hot little go-cart.

What’re Friends For?

Here’s where I need the most help, so I called in reinforcements. Obviously, Jason was on my team, but between the two of us, not only did we need an engine hoist, it’s always better to have another car guy helping.

And for us, that car guy is Eddie… He’s been Jason’s best friend since junior high and he was the Best Man at our wedding…plus he’s pulled and dropped more engines than both Jason and I combined.

While I’m dinking with the new engine, Eddie’s dinking with the old one. (Notice the Viper doubling as a Mustang hood holder in the background. We’re obviously not the kind of people who get freaky about stuff like that. I’ve known too many guys who actually keep a cloth diaper on their person just to stroke down the car if it gets a speck of dust on it. I will NEVER be that kind of car chick. And you can even watch this blog through the years to see if I end up eating those words. I sincerely doubt it. I’ve yet to eat the fact I swore my car would remain an automatic…and never have a big block…and that I’d never sell it.)

For the following to make sense, you just gotta know Eddie… Okay, so it doesn’t make sense to me either, but still, I think everybody needs to know and have a friend like Eddie.

Jason handed off the camera and got into the fray…I love his shirt. I found it at a thrift store for 99 cents….

“I think. I can.” …And doesn’t he look as happy as I did a few posts ago?!

A little bit of grinding…

In an earlier post, I mentioned that I had to get new headers and being the girl that I am… If I gotta grind on a set of headers, I wanna grind on the pretty ones. As you can see…these are the pretty ones and good golly, they were worth all the metal shavings embedded in my skin after this adventure.

This next pic is self-explanatory. It’s from the day after all the grinding when we finally did the swap:

The old engine coming out and the new engine still resting on the stand, waiting to go in.

Pulling an engine out is easy. Putting one back in…well…You’ll see in the next post or two…

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