The Crittenden Automotive Library

Hot Rod Express

Hot Rod Express

Hot Rods and Racing Cars #6
September 1952

Alice Cogan was doing her best to restrain the tears from clouding her pale blue eyes. She was smart enough for all of her seventeen years to know just what was in her dad's mind. He was going to talk to her about Don Ewald and his hot rod. In the language of the teenage group of Williamsport, this was "the showdown."

Mr. Norman Cogan, attorney-at-law and general counselor for the Coastwide Atlantic Railroad gently cleared his throat. The time had come for him to lay down the law to his one and only daughter.

"Mother and I have discussed this matter thoroughly and we agree about what should be done," he began as though he were addressing a jury. "Don Ewald has but one love and it is his hot rod. He will never amount to anything. Someday he might own and operate a garage. This is provided he doesn't hit a telegraph pole, run off a bridge, or smash into a truck with that souped-up car he drives. We feel you have passed the stage of puppy love. So be sensible about it all. You are going to tell Don tomorrow evening when you see him that this is the end. Now don't be dramatic about it, my dear. I clear?"

There were words that Alice wanted to speak but they just stuck in her throat. In mid-Victorian England it would have been proper for her to faint. She looked at her father for that little spark of human understanding that youth wants and just couldn't find it. So she merely said one word.

"Yes."

Her father seemed satisfied and then he continued speaking to her as he looked at his wrist watch.

"I am going to leave the house now for I must catch the 7:30. I'll be home tomorrow evening on the Limited. I have some legal matters to take care of at the State Capitol. I am certain that a Cogan can handle a little matter like Don Ewald."

It was the nice luminous paint that gave such a queer appearance to the thing on four wheels. Pete Quimby had painted on the right door of the contraption, "Hot Dog Express." And now he was speaking to his one and only best pal.

"I was thinking," he meditated, "that if in a couple of years you married Alice and I married Rose, things would be wonderful. The gals are best friends. And so are we. You and I could open a garage and make a million, more or less. And we could buy one of those double houses with a single mortgage. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

But the words went right into Don's right ear and came out of his left ear, for his eyes were watching the girl with the pale blue eyes and the long hair that hung around her shoulders. There was only one such girl in Williamsport. And she was Don's girl. But he hadn't seen her Thursday and now she was coming up to his little garage where he kept his pet and pride.

"Beat it, Pete," he advised. "I got a date with Alice. Something is up. She just didn't sound right over the phone. I'm going to take her out for a spin. We'll be home before ten-thirty."

Alice was now sitting next to Don as he drove down Main Street and headed straight for the open highway. She loved the way he talked and could listen to him for time without end.

"I'm buying a new dual manifold for this car," he said, "just wait till I get it installed. I figure I ought to get at least ten miles an hour more out of this hot rod. And I worked out a way to get at least five miles more out of each gallon of gas I use. Now isn't that something?"

It was words of praise Don wanted to hear. Alice opened her mouth and there was the slightest trace of a son as she spoke.

"Let's drive up to Winston's Point. I love to watch the scenery from there. Sort of makes me feel peaceful."

But Don wasn't exactly in a peaceful mood. He had now hit the open highway and the legal speed limit was fifty miles an hour. This was what he wanted, the thrill of driving away from the crowded city streets and letting his motor go. He drove for half an hour and then turned right and started uphill to their destination. There was the same old moon in the sky with all her admiring stars and planets. He parked the car near a railing and looked carefully and intensely at Alice.

"Something's wrong, babe," he began, "and you can't fool this old timer. So out with it! And don't pull any punches. I got a funny feeling down in my spine that it is connected with your old man."

This time those little tears began to drop. And a few of them rolled down Alice's cheek as she tried to restrain herself from really crying in a most feminine way.

"Dad sort of gave me an ultimatum last night," she explained, "and it concerned us. This is to be the end. I'm not to see you anymore. I don't think he really has anything against you personally. But somehow in his mind he has the idea that a hot rod means a lack of real responsibility."

Don put his right arm around Alice's shoulder and she let her head rest against his shoulder. There was no need for further words. For youth there are times when the world seems to come to an end. When the dreams one has created vanish away and bitter reality takes their place. Then a flashlight played up and down on the car and a familiar voice spoke.

"Hello there, kids. I want to speak to Don."

Alice looked up and recognized Officer Gerard Cooper. He was on foot and looked worried. Don got out of the car and asked what was wrong.

"Got two flats and something is wrong with my engine. I knew that car needed more than an overhauling. I think she is ready for the junk pile. I could see the luminous paint of your car and I figured you were here."

Suddenly there was a terrible screeching noise. Alice got out of the car and joined the officer and Don as they ran closer to the edge and looked downward.

"A freight car just went off the track and the cars are piling up, one on top of the other," shouted Don. "This is terrible! The Limited is due soon and she'll be coming from around the other side. By the time the engineer sees what has happened it will be too late to stop."

And then Alice remembered something that made her turn a deadly white.

"Daddy is on that train!" she managed to say. "We have to save him!"

Don pushed Alice aside and jumped into his hot rod. He started the motor and turned the car around and began to go downhill at a fast pace. Alice looked at officer Cooper and he read her mind.

"That crazy kid is going to go to the bottom of the hill, race around the side and then get into the tracks. He'll try to stop the Limited! He can't make it — and if he does, he'll be killed."

Don felt the pulsing motor of his hot rod as though it were his very heart. He was now running parallel to the railroad tracks. He saw the place which was not fenced and soon he was bumping along the tracks. He had his headlights on and kept blowing his horn.

Engineer Al Beisman was not a drinking man. His hand was on the throttle and his eyes were glued straight ahead. What was coming toward him was glowing, had headlights, and resembled a car. Maybe it was — what? He applied the brakes and brought the train to a halt. Then he got out to examine the damage and a bleeding youth came up to him.

"There's a smashup ahead. I jumped out of my car before you hit it. I guess I'm o.k." And then he fainted dead away.

The railroad called in three auto experts and they helped build a replica of that smashed hot rod. And then they presented it to Don with the offer of a job any time he wanted to work for them. But the proudest day in Don's life came three months later. The railroad was going to run a new streamliner. And what would they call her? Don held Alice's hand and her beaming father told all reporters the same story.

"Wonderful boy! Guess he'll be part of the family one of these days." Oh, yes, the name of that new streamliner? It was called "The Hot Rod Express."