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Page 03 Stories
Mustang Engine Assembly
Wanna Drag?
Here are a few stories, these change from time-to time, so come on back soon. There are also many stories to read in the Mustang News that is sent out to all MMCOA members. Join Today!

Mustang Engine Assembly
By Jim Cavanaugh, Mustang Motorcycles Production Manager

I started working at Gladden Products Corporation fresh out of high school, sometime in late 1949 I was 18 years old at the time. My starting pay was $1.05 per hour, or a net amount of $36.76 each weekly payday. I can still remember my interview with the General Manager, Mr. Howard Burrell. He said," I'm going to take a chance and hire you against my better judgment. Remember, you are being paid a man's wage and I expect you to do a man's work!" I'm placing you in the Engine Assembly Department since they are busy and behind schedule. You start next Monday morning at 8:00 AM sharp. Any problems from you and you will be on the outside, looking in!

I reported to work on time as directed and met my new boss, Bernie Batesstesa, the foreman. I still remember his short muscular build and they way he would "swagger" when he walked with a red shop towel in his rear back pocket. I found out later he was in the Navy and saw combat in the Pacific Theater.

Bernie taught me my first job, a sub assembly. He sat me down at a special bench and showed me how to build the connecting rod, piston and piston ring assembly. I spent my first day entirely, building these subs. I must have built at least a couple hundred of them. Bernie would come by from time to time and pick up a finished assembly and check it for errors. He found none.  Over the next several months I learned to build all the sub assemblies. I became comfortable with Bernie and he with me. I looked forward to graduating to the main event, the engine assembly line.

I soon got my wish and found myself on the second station. I should point out that the assembly line was actually a moving conveyer belt, with a speed of about one mile an hour. If you did not keep up with the belt, you became a major problem to the system. The only recourse was to pull off a few blocks to the tables and try to catch up. The second station was where the intake and exhaust valves were installed and the  valve lash (clearance) was set and the valve springs and retainers and keepers were installed. There was a special grinding wheel to grind the ends of the valves and special "feeler" gages were used. All industrial models had to be set at .008 on the intake and .010 on the exhaust. Mustang engines were set at .006 and .008 respectfully. I would estimate that maybe I was allowed three to four minutes to complete the task. The first day was awkward. I had a little trouble remembering that the Mustang models had to have the cad plated valve springs and they had to be installed with the "tight coil up". The second day was much better and I finally was able to keep the pace. From time to time, Bernie would place me at other stations, usually when some one was absent or quit. Labor turn over was a constant problem because the pay was so low and the working conditions was beyond poor.

Eventually, I learned all the procedures at all the stations, so I became a valuable key man and no longer a "grunt". Now at this point, I should put this in perspective. The engine assembly room was about a 100 foot long, with a conveyer belt down the middle. Tables were placed near all the stations for any problems with a given engine or when some one could not keep up. The first station: Timken bearing cup installed in the block. Next the tappets and oil  pump push rod. Then the camshaft was installed after determining the proper end clearance. Next, the crankshaft was placed in proper time with the camshaft. A special micrometer was used along with the bearing support plate. By turning the large handle on the micrometer, counter clockwise, all end play would be removed and looking at the dial , the proper number would show how may shims to place under the bearing support bearing  cup. next the support plate was locked down and the assembly would be placed on the belt, heading to station two, which I described above.

At the third station, the piston, connecting rod and oil pump would be installed. A special split ring compressor tool was used and this station was the least troublesome. Too often, a new person would not hold the oil pump piston correctly and would let go before the piston was firmly seated on the oil pump pushrod, dumping the entire oil pump contents into the engine while it was upside down.

The forth station was also an easy one to learn. The crankshaft oil seals were installed with special tools. The breather assembly plate, and the engine base (pan) were installed, using air tools and common end wrenches. The oil filler and drain plugs were also installed here.

The fifth station was troublesome! The magneto was installed here and the basic ignition timing was set. Even though we had special tools and meters, it took some degree of skill to finish the procedure in time. (no pun intended) To set the points, and get the correct timing, even using the piston stop was time consuming. I learned to do it a bit different. I would set the point gap and rotate the magneto to get the timing light to make and break at the correct timing. Bernie studied my method and endorsed it. The industrial models had a cowling back plate and dust cover that had to be installed before installing the flywheel and rope starter after the magneto was locked down. The Mustang models were a snap compared to the industrial models.

The six and last but not lest station, the cylinder head, engine cowling, fuel tank assemblies, carburetor  (industrial models) were installed. There were tricks to align the cowling so the cooling fins on the flywheel would not rub. The Mustang models were the lest time consuming. We just selected the correct cylinder head, depending upon if it was a standard or Special model.

From this point the conveyor belt delivered the engines to the" hole in the wall" , the test cell for testing. All industrial engines were tested 10 minutes on idle and 10 minuets full throttle, under load. This is how yours truly lost his hearing. Next, the engines were drained of oil and boxed for shipping.

During the years I spent on the engine assembly line, the Mustang group was in a separate building on Brand Blvd. in Glendale California and I never met anyone from this group. Gladden had a very big slice of the industrial engine market. We usually built in excess of 100 units per day and  a big part of the total business Gladden Products enjoyed. Later, Bernie was promoted to a new department where they built aircraft landing gears. Bernie headed up this new department and I was promoted to take Bernie's place. A few years later, Mustang moved in with us and was positioned across from the engine assembly conveyor belt.

I thought it would be interesting to tell the Busy Bee Story. If you have questions, I would be happy to try to answer. Just post them on the Forum.

Now you explain something to me! How come I can remember all this that happened over fifty years ago and I can not remember what happen yesterday!

For what it's worth, Jim (Jimbo) Cavanaugh


Wanna Drag?
By Tim Butler about Buzz Collier

I had some business in East Texas yesterday that resulted in a stop over at Alan Wenzel’s shop in Wills Point. After picking up a couple of small parts for my wheel restoration, I drove to Troy (Kingplinker) Harrison’s house which is only 20 minutes or so from Alan’s place. Shortly after I arrived and even before we went inside, I heard the sound of a motorcycle coming up Troy’s drive way. When I turned toward the direction of the sound, I saw a guy riding a new Harley Sportster. It was none other than Troy’s friend, Buzz.

Buzz jumped off the bike and said: “Hey, Tim, I’m Buzz, glad to meet you”. I could tell by that ear to ear grin that he meant it. After a couple of minutes where we discussed the situations that provided the opportunity for Troy and Buzz to develop their association, Buzz began to tell a story about his experiences with the Mustang.

He began by telling a tale of a 5 HP Eagle he had. He told us that there was a kid in the neighborhood who was always wanting to “drag”. Buzz told us that his 5 horse Eagle was pretty much the envy of the kids in his world and, in typical kid like fashion, he found that his drag race crazy neighbor had talked his Dad in to buying him an 8 horse Eagle to compete with Buzz’s 5 horse. You should have seen Buzz as he described this kid blasting by Buzz’s 5 horse Eagle. He held his arms out as if to show the exact posture of his competitor, pipes rapping, head turned back to look at Buzz as he flew by. Buzz said the guy would back off the throttle, slow down to let Buzz catch up and then, do it all over again.

As good fortune would have it, soon after that somewhat aggravating situation, Buzz became the proud new owner of a Mustang. Buzz told us that the dealer advised him to use caution during the break in period and to simply cruise at low speed and not push it until the first two tanks of fuel were consumed. During those first two tanks, Buzz related the countless times that he’d been passed by his loud piped competitor, complete with arms extended, right hand mimicking the off and on movements of the twist grip throttle. Buzz told us that the day finally came when he was sitting at the gas station putting the 3rd tank of gas in his Mustang. He reiterated the countless times he’d had to suffer the Eagle flying by him as he simply cruised the Mustang.

As can only happen in true life experiences or in Hollywood, as Buzz was topping off his tank, he heard the rapping noise of that un-baffled, Husky powered Eagle. Screwing on the cap, firing up the Mustang, Buzz put it in first gear, pulled out of the station and started to cruise as he’d done so many times before. Needless to say, ole loud mouth continued to taunt Buzz with his incessant challenges. “Wanna drag, wanna drag, wanna drag”? Finally, Buzz said: “Okay”. In less time than it took to run the race, Buzz gave us the typical Mustang vs. Eagle drag race story. He even mentioned Marvin’s story about the “Great Race”. It was a great tale and both Troy and I laughed about the ending of it that found Buzz literally blasting the kid off the track.

At that point, I thought the story was over but in true “Tales of the 60’s” style, Buzz added the details that Drag Boy had told his father about the race and had talked him into buying the kid a Chevy pick up truck. As is so predictable in cases like this, Buzz found Drag Boy pulling up next to him in his Chevy pick up truck, looking over at Buzz and yelling: “Wanna drag”? Buzz passed on the invitation and kept on cruising.

Buzz related that incident to someone whose name and relationship to him, I’ve forgotten. I did not however, forget the part where Buzz’s friend, when told of the challenge, asked Buzz, “Is it a V8 or V6? ”. Buzz told him it was a V6 and his friend told him to give him the race.

Next time out, all of this unfolded in a manner that should have been on television. Buzz and Drag Boy arrived at that straight stretch of highway, just out of town, that most of us had used as a ¼ mile track complete with the white stripes that marked the start and finish line. Buzz and Drag Boy positioned themselves at the staring line. Buzz recalled revving the Mustang, slipping it into first gear and on “Go” , began his run down the ¼ mile.

At this point in the story, Buzz was again gesturing with hands rapping the throttle, speed shifting through all 4 gears, eyes straight down the track and no Chevy beside him. As he approached the finish line, Buzz told us that he turned backward to see how close the Chevy was to him and if he was gaining. Buzz broke into a laugh and told Troy and I that all he saw was the back side of the Chevy headed back toward town.

— Tim Butler #730

The Big Race
By Marvin Snyder

I think anyone who had a scooter or motorbike as a kid can relate to this story. Even the kids of today might. Anyway, the events are true and unforgettable.

The year was 1961. It was a warm Saturday morning and my friend Bob and I were on our scooters as usual terrorizing the neighborhood. At least that’s what we were trying to do. Back then, the scooter crowd was a small elite group of young teenagers who always considered themselves in a class all their own. I had a new Allstate Vespa and my friend Bob had a Cushman Eagle. Even though mine was new and his was very used, I always envied him on that Eagle. It was more like a real motorcycle with the gas tank in front of you. It always looked cool to swing your leg over that bike just like a real motorcycle.

As I said, we were out riding. South Florida in those days had many subdivisions with plenty of side streets to test our riding skills. Some places had all the streets in, but the houses were not built yet. These were our own private racetrack. Most of us back then considered racing the ultimate test for a truly good rider. We all considered our selves good riders. We continued our riding until early afternoon, riding over near the junior high school. There we saw several of our friends assembled in the middle of the road. This was a new school in an area not yet very populated. It was almost deserted on this Saturday afternoon.

As we approached I could see my friend Ray on his Mustang, another kid I did not recognize and several other kids gathered in a rather heated discussion. The stranger was riding what appeared to be a brand new Zundap. Now no one we knew had ever seen one of these bikes. It smoked and sounded a lot like the Harley Hummers we had seen around school. However, this bike was different. The Zundap rider was boasting his bike had 17 horsepower. I know my little Allstate had less than 5 HP. No match for this bigger machine. Bob’s Eagle was not much better. However, this guy did not intimidate Ray. Now Ray was the kind of kid who did not back down from anything. Rather large for his age, he could take care of himself in most situations. The Zundap rider kept on at Ray until he could stand it no more.

A challenge went up as the Zundap guy sat there revving up his engine. Ray weighing in at around 200 lbs. knew he did not stand a chance against the more powerful machine. Not wanting to be shown up by this newcomer, Ray looked at me, weighing in at about 110 lbs. and said “Hey Marv, You know how to race, why don’t you take my bike and race this guy?” I just stood there for a minute. I looked at the Mustang, and then looked at the Zundap, then back at the Mustang. Now the Mustang in those days was considered the ultimate. I had no idea of the horsepower or how it would fair in competition with the Zundap. I had this sinking feeling as I stood there with everyone staring at me. I had always been intimidated by the larger bikes, but I could not back down now. I reluctantly said O.K.

I put my scooter on its center stand and climbed aboard the Mustang, which was already running. My legs were shaking as I looked over at the grinning Zundap rider. Geeze I thought, what am I doing. We were always racing, but this was different. This was serious. We agreed to race the distance of about a quarter mile. Or about 10 blocks. A large tree marked the end of the course. I said I wanted to ride the course slowly to get the feel of it before the actual race.

I slowly put the Mustang in first gear and gradually let out the clutch. As I slowly shifted into second gear, I could feel the distance necessary to hit the gear solidly and not miss a shift. Now give it a little more throttle and shift to third. I cruised to the finish and turned around. Now I rode a little faster to get a better feel of the more powerful Mustang. Much more powerful than my Allstate. I rode back to the gathering of on lookers, now appearing to have grown. Where the heck did these other kids come from? Anyway, too late now to back out. I rode back and turned around to come up next to the smoking Zundap. The rider still revving his engine. Now my arms as well as my legs were shaking. As I lined myself up next to the other bike I could feel my heart start to really pound and my shirt was wet with perspiration.

Ray positioned himself between and in front of us. The way starters always did. He raised his arm as a signal to start revving up. I pulled in the clutch and jammed the Mustang into first gear. I leaned over slightly anticipating the lunge as I released the clutch. With both engines screaming Ray finally dropped his arm. I twisted the throttle wide open and popped the clutch. The Mustangs front wheel came off the ground. I was not quite ready for that, but held on as the wheel came back down and we accelerated down the street. I kept the throttle wide open and jammed the shifter into second gear pulling in the clutch and releasing it in one motion, the way we referred to a maneuver called a power shift. The front wheel again came off the ground. This time not as far though. Winding out second gear all I could do was hold on. With my body as flat as I could lean over and the wind in my face I tried to hold the position I had seen other racers do. Although I really did not know if I was doing it right.

When I felt the engine had reached its maximum speed in second I jammed the shifter into third gear with the same clutch motion I had used to hit second. This time the wheel stayed on the ground. I could not determine how fast I was going because Ray did not have a speedometer on the Mustang, but it was the fastest I had ever been on anything with two wheels and I was going faster. Helmets were not required back then so I was bare headed. I did have on a pair of goggles though. I could see the finish line fast approaching, as the Mustang seemed to be almost ready to fly. I turned my head to see where the Zundap was. It was at least 20 feet behind me.

I turned my head back around as I felt victory was almost upon me. Suddenly something felt very strange. I know I had not hit anything but the handlebars started violently whipping from left to right. I know now I was experiencing a high-speed wobble. A real tank slapper as they say. All I could do was hold on as I crossed the finish line in a sheer panic. I was already past the finish line when I finally was able to let off the throttle enough to start slowing down. As I lifted myself up, I saw the Zundap rider go by. He never even slowed down. I guess he was humiliated enough by getting beat by this little Mustang. He did not need to go back to the crowd and get it some more.

I finally regained control of the bike as it slowed to a reasonable speed. The other rider was now completely out of sight. I turned the bike around and started back to Ray and the other guys watching back at the starting line. As Ray came into view, I could see he was frantically jumping up and down as well as most of the others. I was wondering if he had seen what had just occurred. I thought he might have thought I had lost control due to my inexperience as a racer. As I got closer, I could hear him screaming. Ray was always a little over exuberant at times. I pulled up to him and stopped. He almost knocked me over patting me on the back.

I asked him if he had seen me with the bike in the high-speed wobble. He said he had not. He had only seen me win and the other rider speed off in the distance. I slowly got off the Mustang as the other kids gathered around to get a closer look at the bike. Ray swung his leg over it and sat there proudly as if he were the one who had ridden to victory. I was still shaking as I got back on my little Allstate and Bob and I rode back to my house. When we were alone I asked Bob if he had seen the wobble at the end of the race. He said he had, but since he had never seen this before he did not know what to make of it. I told him it was something he should never want to experience.

Shortly after the big race, Ray sold the Mustang. I had hoped to buy it for myself, but it was gone. I turned 16 shortly there after and it was cars not motorcycles that interested me. I did not see another Mustang until I saw one at the Vintage Motorcycle Days at the Mid Ohio event held each year by the A.M.A. That race came back to mind and I knew if at all possible I had to get a Mustang. Several years later with much looking I finally found one. A 1956 Mustang Model 4 Pony. Just like the one I had raced those many years before. It is restored now and when I sit on it, that old feeling comes back and I am 15 again.

— Marvin #995

Frames & Forks
By Jim Cavanaugh: Mustang Production Manager

By today's manufacturing methods, it's a wonder how we did things back in the late 1940's & 1950's and even the mid 1960's. How did we do all of this as well as we did and maintain the production goals each day? No computers, or computer aided machinery (CAD CAM) to keep us on the straight and narrow path to success. The answer is of course, dedicated, talented people and an engineering staff that designed the production tooling before a single unit could be produced. The master frame and fork welding fixtures were cleverly designed. Every tubular component or plate or gusset that intersected another component to create a welding joint had an adjustment feature to allow for variable tolerances from run to run, without changing the net finished welded frame. In other words, all frames were identical even though serious adjustments were made to the locating points. Both fixtures were gimbal mounted so that the welder could have good access and not have to perform overhead welding or other awkward positions. The master fixture would rotate, 360 degrees in one direction. The same features were incorporated in the fork master welding fixture.

Both the frame and fork assemblies were made from 1015, .065 wall, cold rolled electric welded tubing. Not Shelby or seamless as some people have stated. Back when I stated in the early 50's, both assemblies were electric (arc) welded. This took great welding skill, not to burn through the thin walled tubing. Another time consuming chore was that every welded joint had to have the "welding slag" chipped off with a special chipping hammer and cleaned with a rotary wire brush before painting. Usually we had a welder's helper that did the clean up as the units were removed from the fixture. Later, about 1959 or 1960, the MIG (micro wire, inert gas) welding process became available, which eliminated all of the clean up, increasing production and eliminating at least one person. The front frame shield which covered the head post was a stamping made from fixed tooling from Smith Mailer Co. They were brazed in place, with small tacks and then the ends were hammered over also brazed. Early models had torch cut plates for the axle heels and the front gusset. Some time later these too were stamped, increasing precision.

The fork assembly had special work done out side. The tapered down tubes were formed using the hydro-form process whereby, extreme liquid pressure was applied to the tube in a tapered fixture. The pressure was about 30,000 psi as I recall. The inner fork tube was made from 4130 chrome molly Shelby (seamless) heavy wall tubing. They were first cut to devoloped length, then centerless ground to finish diameter. Then we had a special fixture that had the shape of the (axle) end which has the transition. We would heat them to "cherry" red with a special torch called a "rosebud" and then place it in the fixture and have the huge back geared press form this shape. Each time the ram came down we would flip the tube over so that the straightness would be maintained. This variable condition required us to custom fit each front axle to fit the distance between the tubes in final assembly. After the tubes were formed, they were sent Modern Plating Co. for hard chrome plating because they were subject to wear.

I'll finish this story with another related to the above. I'm going to guess about 1957 or 1958 I was promoted to production manager. I went from hourly pay to monthly salary. I think my salary was 600.00 per month. This was unheard of for an hourly "grunt" promoted within. Looking back, I think I was the only one to do this, even though Mr. Gladden did not care for me. Anyway, after a couple months, I was called to the front office and Mr. Howard Burrell was the general manager at that time. He had me sit down and asked me how much my salary was. I told him, $600.00 per month and he said wrong! He said it was $2000.00 month. I said, "did I get a raise"? He said no, it cost the company that much because I was inefficient. He said, see that white shop coat on the hanger? I said yes, and he said from now on I want you to wear that shop coat and put down the wrenches and just supervise, train and instruct. I don't want to see you doing any assembly yourself. Believe me production will increase to over ten units each day. I did what he wanted but production was the same. I sometimes did have to take a position on the line when we had absent people. What Mr. Burrell did not understand and I did not tell him that production was limited to the overall production of the frames and forks which was ten sets per day and hopefully, the painter would keep up! It would be interesting to chat with Alan and who ever is making the frames and forks now and how they do things. Hope you find this interesting.

— Jimbo

Crisis Diverted
By Jim Cavanaugh: Mustang Production Manager

Mustang production was shut down again! The reason: No crankshafts! Too often, production was curtailed because of labor strikes, either overseas or local or Teamsters strikes whereby we could not ship finished units. But the most serious problem was human error. To Often, the Purchasing Department just plain forgot to order long lead time items. In those days, we did not enjoy the use of a computer system to remind us to order based on usage or lead time. We had a simple "heads up" alert system from lead people like myself to warn of upcoming shortages. The Purchasing Department did have a "tickler" Rolladex system to review and request inventory count on long lead time items but, it was still subject to forgetfulness.

This time, panic set in because it was the engine crankshaft that was down to a precious few. That meant that production was halted and the few left were to be allotted to special orders from the Sales Department for their handling. I was really perplexed because I could not believe that this could happen. I felt partly to blame because my department worked closely with the parts. A new crankshaft order was quickly issued but even after the order for 1000 pieces for the steel forging to Ladish Pacific Company, we were months away from receiving the forgings. We just had to wait our turn at the forge and hope they were not too busy at the time. Even if we had the forgings, the many operations of, rough machined, heat treat, timing gear cutting, finish grinding of the shaft ends, ignition cam grinding, and finally crank pin grinding. All of this normally takes 120 days. Four months of production down time! I just could not accept that.

We did have new crankshafts that could not be sold or assembled into product because of irregularities. We would accumulate these from each production run whereby the crank pin journal would not clean up at the standard 1.2495 inch diameter but were .010 or .020 undersize. I'm talking about a lot of crankshafts that we could only use in test engines or repairs. I kept looking at these beautiful crankshafts and shaking my head. Somehow, we must use these to keep production going. In those days, I was very interested in the Hot Rod Industry, always keeping abreast of current events. Then, out of the blue, I remembered an advertisement by a company in the San Fernando Valley.

Hank the Crank was the business name. Their claim to fame was that they could restore crankshafts to their original journal size by grinding the journals undersize, like .050 and then use a process called metal spraying, using a material called Molybdenum. Because this material was harder than the parent material, no heat treating would be required before finish grinding. I took a few crankshafts over to see Hank and he studied the problem and said that the reworked crankshafts would be as good or better than new. I raced back to the plant and took a couple undersize crankshafts to Harry Mann, our crankshaft grinder, and told him to grind the throws, .050 undersize. The next day I raced them over to Hank and he went right to work on them. The following day, Hank called and said that they were ready. I zipped back over there and took them directly to Harry and he immediately started work on them, grinding them to the standard diameter of 1.2495 inches. I had a good feeling about this but knew that it would not be my decision alone. I would need the blessings of Howard Forrest, our Chief Engineer and Mr. J. Wade Brunson, Sales Manager.

Mr. Harry Mann working at the crankshafts processing area.

I took the finished cranks to Howard and explained what I did and asked if he would review my work and advise if it had merit. At first, Mr Brunson was not in agreement. He never heard of this new process and was concerned about warranty claims, should the engines fail. Mr. Brunson said that it would take weeks to make life tests. I stated that we have to do something and start somewhere.

Meanwhile, Howard Forrest, after checking out the positive results of this new process, gave me his blessing and authorized the procedure. Chuck Gardner, as I remember, also embraced the effort and helped to expedite the crankshafts thru the various stages for grinding in our plant.

Long story short, within a week, we were back building engines and the Mighty Mustangs. We even used this procedure for the industrial line of engine products and hardly ever, from that time forward, did we scrap a crankshaft for being undersize. Funny, I don't remember anyone giving me praise or credit for saving the day. I guess it was just my job.

— Jimbo

Grandpa's Mustang
By Jon Flint: Club Archivist

My 1955 Mustang Pony Special was purchased brand new by my maternal Grandfather, Glen Hart, and has been in the family ever since. It was purchased in Battle Creek, Michigan on March 21, 1955 for $475.00. Its’ build date was 3-10-1955 and came with a hi-lift cam, front brake, hi-compression head and up-pipe.

As a child growing up I spent a lot of time visiting my grandparents. On one of the visits in 1973, while my mom was visiting, I was in the garage playing on the Mustang. When it finally came time to go home, I asked my Grandpa if I could have his Mustang. To my surprise and my mother’s shock, he said, “Yes it’s yours”, which is how, at the age of 12, I became the new owner of a 1955 Mustang. I had no idea what a valuable and rare find I really had just received. It was just something for me to play on. After getting it home I decided to use it for a 4-H project. I took the entire Mustang apart so I could paint it and put it back together. It never made it back together for 4-H, in fact it remained in boxes for the next 31 years. It narrowly missed burning up in a barn fire in the mid 70s. Lucky me!

I joined the Mustang Club in March 1996 as member #914. After I started receiving the Mustang Magazines I began thinking it was time to restore my Mustang. I would read the issues and dream about seeing mine on the cover someday. Well it took another 8 years before my son Zachary (10 years old) and I had been watching one of the cycle rebuilding shows on TV that I told Zachary about my old cycle in the garage rafters. We decided it was time to rebuild it. After getting it down I called Alan about rebuilding the engine and transmission. We decided to meet at the Portland, Indiana Scooter Show so I could give the parts to him. While Alan had my engine and trans. I started getting the rest of the Mustang ready. I decided I wanted to have my Mustang the way I wanted; therefore I added disc brakes, made custom fiberglass fenders, stainless head post cover, billet controls and mirrors. I also chromed every part I could, it even has an original Mustang script speedo. I did most of the work in my garage and at a local machine shop. I had a friend who is a professional street rod painter paint it ‘76 Corvette yellow. The flames and horses on the tanks were hand painted. I have around 325 hours into rebuilding it and around $6500.00 in parts and materials.

Now it’s your turn to stop reading the stories and get to work. DON’T wait 30 some years like me.

Thanks Again Grandpa Hart.

— Jon Flint #914

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