Re: Stainless Steel Angel
Posted: Thu Feb 25, 2016 3:40 pm
With his staff energetically and relievedly servicing the DeLorean, Al wandered off. It was time to make a phone call.
“Call Cal.”
“Calvin, this is Al out at 2. I need you here when you can come by – preferably today.”
The phone mumbled in his ear.
“Yes, it’s ready. Lovely thing – I never thought it would come out as nice as it has. Rock would have loved it. My staff did an outstanding job putting it together – there was more than a bit of magic there.”
The phone mumbled again.
“Great. I’ll be here. See you then.”
When Cal rolled in an hour later, the DeLorean had been serviced, and stood on a set of ramps to expose its underside. Cal and the old engineer walked into the bay, and Cal stopped, struck dumb at the sheer presence the car exuded. Al said nothing – this was going to be a very personal moment between Cal and his brother’s long-unfinished project.
Cal knelt, and looked at the white chassis, blue cooling lines running alongside it – Al had arranged lights to make the brilliant blue and white stand out. He then went to the back, and looked at the LS1 lovingly installed. The valve covers caught his eye – he looked at Al, an odd expression on his face, then kept looking. The installation came in for some detailed examination, with Al handing him a flashlight so he could see the work done.
The interior, with its quaint gauge and dial layout came in for examination as Cal climbed into the driver’s seat for a closer examination.
“Other than the stereo and the cupholders this one looks just like mine – the changes you made are invisible to the eye without the deck open.” Al again said nothing and just nodded – this wasn’t about dialogue, more than it was about the communing going on as Al watched.
Getting out and walking around again, he walked to the back – and noticed the ADMC-12 on the back bumper.
“How did you know? That’s what Rock called the concept he had – we blue-skyed that one one night over a bottle of bourbon – I didn’t think anyone knew about it…” He stopped, utterly bemused.
“It was in his notebooks on the car – he called it that, in the privacy of his own writing. The team felt that at least one had to exist.” Al led him round the front, and showed him the grille logo – the mechanics had had time to fit it.
“It’s perfect. That’s the concept we had for it, near as damnit.”
Cal was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Does it run like it looks?”
“Let’s find out.” Al slid into the driver’s seat, then started the big Chevrolet V8. A few stabs at the accelerator, and he backed it off the ramp to the floor.
“Get in.”
Cal got in, they strapped down and closed the doors, and rolled out.
Chesnut to Alexander Parkway, Alexander to 12 to the 494 North on-ramp – the car rolled quietly and effortlessly, until they came to be on the on-ramp – and Al opened it up.
With a KEEK from the rear tires and a howl from the exhaust the ADMC-12 accelerated rapidly, holding the curve of the on-ramp with Al’s guidance. Merging with traffic the ADMC-12 shifted lanes, skillfully finding safe slots in the midday traffic. At 75 the car hummed along nearly noiselessly, holding the road with casual ease.
Al drove almost aimlessly, till he reached the Rockford Road exit. Pulling off, and pulling into the Target parking lot there, he asked Cal, “Care for a go?”
“I shouldn’t….Hades, yes!” They switched places, and Cal guided the DeLorean back to 494. On the entrance ramp South he gave the car its head, and it pulled effortlessly, matching speed and circulating into traffic. In a few minutes they were back at the plant, pulling back into the bay.
Shutting down and exiting, Cal stared at the car for a good long minute. Al kept his silence again – he knew Cal would talk when it suited him.
“He’d be thrilled – he knew the car had the potential. If he’d only been given the time – it DeLorean hadn’t had the problems – we could have found an engine to do this.”
“The engine existed and he knew what it was – he mentioned it in his notes. The aluminium-block Buick 215 that Rock spoke of in his notes would have easily given twice the horsepower of that anemic PRV V6 – and would have weighed nearly the same. He could have bought engines from Rover or licensed it as they did. The technology was there – the time wasn’t.
The failure was not his – he got caught between the Board and DeLorean’s instability. If the fault is anywhere it was with that erratic genius John Z.”
“Thank you, Al. You made it happen – and I know this cost you to do. I could tell.”
“I’m glad I was able to do it for you – and for him. Buck will enjoy it – even though he wasn’t the first to drive it. Of course, we don;t need to tell him that, now do we?" Al smiled wickedly.
"You need to meet the team that did it – come along. It’s time for a cup of tea, anyway.”
Taking his arm, Al walked Calvin from the bay, leaving the DeLorean there in its silver glory.
“Call Cal.”
“Calvin, this is Al out at 2. I need you here when you can come by – preferably today.”
The phone mumbled in his ear.
“Yes, it’s ready. Lovely thing – I never thought it would come out as nice as it has. Rock would have loved it. My staff did an outstanding job putting it together – there was more than a bit of magic there.”
The phone mumbled again.
“Great. I’ll be here. See you then.”
When Cal rolled in an hour later, the DeLorean had been serviced, and stood on a set of ramps to expose its underside. Cal and the old engineer walked into the bay, and Cal stopped, struck dumb at the sheer presence the car exuded. Al said nothing – this was going to be a very personal moment between Cal and his brother’s long-unfinished project.
Cal knelt, and looked at the white chassis, blue cooling lines running alongside it – Al had arranged lights to make the brilliant blue and white stand out. He then went to the back, and looked at the LS1 lovingly installed. The valve covers caught his eye – he looked at Al, an odd expression on his face, then kept looking. The installation came in for some detailed examination, with Al handing him a flashlight so he could see the work done.
The interior, with its quaint gauge and dial layout came in for examination as Cal climbed into the driver’s seat for a closer examination.
“Other than the stereo and the cupholders this one looks just like mine – the changes you made are invisible to the eye without the deck open.” Al again said nothing and just nodded – this wasn’t about dialogue, more than it was about the communing going on as Al watched.
Getting out and walking around again, he walked to the back – and noticed the ADMC-12 on the back bumper.
“How did you know? That’s what Rock called the concept he had – we blue-skyed that one one night over a bottle of bourbon – I didn’t think anyone knew about it…” He stopped, utterly bemused.
“It was in his notebooks on the car – he called it that, in the privacy of his own writing. The team felt that at least one had to exist.” Al led him round the front, and showed him the grille logo – the mechanics had had time to fit it.
“It’s perfect. That’s the concept we had for it, near as damnit.”
Cal was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Does it run like it looks?”
“Let’s find out.” Al slid into the driver’s seat, then started the big Chevrolet V8. A few stabs at the accelerator, and he backed it off the ramp to the floor.
“Get in.”
Cal got in, they strapped down and closed the doors, and rolled out.
Chesnut to Alexander Parkway, Alexander to 12 to the 494 North on-ramp – the car rolled quietly and effortlessly, until they came to be on the on-ramp – and Al opened it up.
With a KEEK from the rear tires and a howl from the exhaust the ADMC-12 accelerated rapidly, holding the curve of the on-ramp with Al’s guidance. Merging with traffic the ADMC-12 shifted lanes, skillfully finding safe slots in the midday traffic. At 75 the car hummed along nearly noiselessly, holding the road with casual ease.
Al drove almost aimlessly, till he reached the Rockford Road exit. Pulling off, and pulling into the Target parking lot there, he asked Cal, “Care for a go?”
“I shouldn’t….Hades, yes!” They switched places, and Cal guided the DeLorean back to 494. On the entrance ramp South he gave the car its head, and it pulled effortlessly, matching speed and circulating into traffic. In a few minutes they were back at the plant, pulling back into the bay.
Shutting down and exiting, Cal stared at the car for a good long minute. Al kept his silence again – he knew Cal would talk when it suited him.
“He’d be thrilled – he knew the car had the potential. If he’d only been given the time – it DeLorean hadn’t had the problems – we could have found an engine to do this.”
“The engine existed and he knew what it was – he mentioned it in his notes. The aluminium-block Buick 215 that Rock spoke of in his notes would have easily given twice the horsepower of that anemic PRV V6 – and would have weighed nearly the same. He could have bought engines from Rover or licensed it as they did. The technology was there – the time wasn’t.
The failure was not his – he got caught between the Board and DeLorean’s instability. If the fault is anywhere it was with that erratic genius John Z.”
“Thank you, Al. You made it happen – and I know this cost you to do. I could tell.”
“I’m glad I was able to do it for you – and for him. Buck will enjoy it – even though he wasn’t the first to drive it. Of course, we don;t need to tell him that, now do we?" Al smiled wickedly.
"You need to meet the team that did it – come along. It’s time for a cup of tea, anyway.”
Taking his arm, Al walked Calvin from the bay, leaving the DeLorean there in its silver glory.