It's Stupid Story Time again!

CarMichael Angelo

my rearend will smell so minty fresh,
15 Year Member
Nov 29, 1999
10,641
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Birmingham, al
I was 19.
My 1969 mach 1 had a rebuilt 351 w/ a holley 650 d/p, an Offenhauser “high rise” intake, a Crane Fireball cam, Mallory dual point distributor, Appliance headers; a Hurst 3500 stall converter for an FMX auto trans, and a set of Zoom 4.11 rear end gears rounding out my accumulated “mods”. I had done everything that could be done to the engine that could be done in 1977. It was fast, but w/o any aftermarket heads available, was still far from what could be considered fast by today’s standards

I had a set of Centerline Auto Drags, 15 x 3.5 fronts, and 15 x 7 in the rear, w/ the requisite Volkswagen sized 600 x 15 front rubber and L 60 x 15 rears. When racing, I had a set of Goodyear 7.00 x 15 x 29.5 cheater slicks mounted on chrome reverse "steelies".

The car had it’s original paint, which wasn’t that bad except for the color, kind of a pale yellow. (Ford called it Meadowlark yellow,…. I just called it boring). That, plus the rash of chips and door dings made the “paint job” the next thing that had to happen.

It was during the summer of 1977 that I decided to step up a notch and pay for a “custom” paint job.
I chose a local painter that had actually had his car featured in Hot Rod Magazine. He quoted the price for the minimal body work and the complete color change, a sum that seemed so high that I was satisfied that I would truly be getting the custom paint job I was looking for.

I applied for and got a loan for the 1000.00 he quoted. ( I know, but it was 1977, and I was making a whopping 2.75 an hour, so it seemed like a lot back then).

I took the car to him in May. I got it back in November.

It was worth the wait. Gone was the rash of dings and chips, gone was the boring meadowlark yellow, now flawlessly straight and covered in 3 coats of beautifully buffed, Candy apple red acrylic lacquer.

The only problem was, it was freakin’ November. And it was Council Bluffs Iowa. Snow had already started to fall.

I had to drive it. I had been riding a damn motorcycle for the last 6 months and I was gonna drive the damn thing even if it was cold as hell outside. So on the very next Saturday night I decided to see who was out and to show off my new 1000.00 paint job.

It seemed that the only other idiot out on Broadway on a Saturday night in Council Bluffs Ia. In late November was one Ron Gillette, The local town gossip. Saying anything to Ron Gillette was sure to get distorted into an entirely different version the very next time he opened his mouth.

I unfortunately did not know this yet.

I pulled into the Sams burger joint and pulled beside the mile high F 250 that Ron Gillete owned.

“Great looking car!” (Gillette)
Thanks (me)
“What’s under the hood?” (G)
351 w/ the usual stuff (M)
“Think it’ll take Millers’ Nova?”(G)

Do you see where this is gonna get me into trouble?

I don’t think I’m even in the same class as Miller, besides his car really isn’t even street legal, so it’s not a fair comparison (M)


The fact that Gillette was a truck guy, and a jacked up in the air 3’ to the rocker truck guy and I was not, meant that the small talk we exchanged was as small as it gets on a 27 degree Saturday night in C.B. IA. I told Gillette good night, got a Sam’s cheeseburger and fries and went back home to put my car into hibernation for the impending winter.


My conversation w/ Gillette hadn’t ended like I thought it had. Over the next several weeks/ months, I started hearing that Monty Miller was looking for me. I heard it everywhere from what seemed like everybody. Course I didn’t know why he was on this vendetta at the time, all I knew was that he was supposedly pissed.

As a side note Monty Miller’s Nova was a very fast car. A bonafide 11 oh drag car w/ a license plate. He had a 383 SBC w/ a dual quads on a tunnel Ram and a M 22 “rock crusher” 4 speed inside a 1968 Nova running around on 9” drags slicks.
Monty Miller was 6’4 at about 250lbs. He looked like one of those cartoons where there was a big, bug eyed Neanderthal driving a car w/ his hand on a shifter sticking through the roof. He was a hot head and liked to fight, and he took things personally about anything said about him or his car.

My car was a 13.50 ride on a set of 7” “cheater” slicks going down hill w/ a 20 MPH tailwind. I was 6’ and 168lbs at the time and in every respect, was no match for Monty Miller. And I didn’t say jack about him or his sorry assed car.

My conversation w/ Gillette I had found out through someone had changed by the time it got to Miller into something like:
“Monty Miller is not even in my class. The two cars aren’t even comparable. I can’t be bothered worrying about a car that he’s afraid to drive on the street”

Or something to that effect

My “similar to miller” sized friends assured me that Monty Miller wasn’t all that and that he was slow and you could see his punches coming from a mile away. All I had to do was duck. Yeah, that was all I had to do……just duck. Besides they’d warn Miller that if he messed w/ me there would be ………repercussions.

I was feeling all reassured by now.

It happened outside of the Alibi lounge. I was letting a girl out of the back seat of my cousin’s 1968 Camaro when out of the corner of my eye, I notice a large hulking figure coming at me fast. I no sooner turned to look up to see what the “disturbance” in my field of vision was when I find myself slammed back up against a brick wall.

Monty Miller has a wad of my shirt right below my chin in his left hand, and he has got that right fully cocked. He is screaming that I’ll think twice before I say s*it about his car next time, and just as I am about to say I did’n………POW! Followed with stars and a crumble to the ground like a sack of potatoes. My 5'4" 135lb cousin attempted to come to my defense w/ a "Hey Now", to Which Monty Miller Spitted out "You want some of this?!!!"
My cousin decided that no, he did not.

When I came to, The entire parking lot of the Alibi was full of patrons from both inside and outside of the bar. The Bar owner “insisted” that Monty Miller leave the premises immediately or he'd call the cops, …advice that MM took as wise.

My Right eye was now flaming red from the broken vessel and was starting to blacken. I got to my feet and got back in the car determined to find Ron Gillete and “straighten him out” for starting this mess in the first place. During our search, we run into my bigger friends who ask me “WTF happened to my eye??”.(B) Monty Miller happened.(M)
“Why didn’t you just duck the punch like I told you?” “ I told you could see it coming from a mile away.“(B)
He had his left hand under my chin, holding me against the wall. I could only “duck” about an inch., and I watched it come the whole damn mile right into my eyeball! (M)

The two set out determined to get revenge for my now black, blue, and bloody eye. Butch goes after MM, and Terry ( The neighborhood kid from previous story) goes on a hunt and destroy Gillete mission.

Butch and Miller Tangle. Miller is genuinely afraid of Butch and he retreats and leaves for the night. Gillete doesn’t fare so well.

Terry Drags Gillette out of the truck he drives and proceeds to pummel him with both fists NEO style. He ends up having charges pressed against him for assault when C.B.P.D. drag him off of the former now somewhat mangled Gillette. ( I guess that it didn’t help his case that he drug Gillette out of his truck while sitting at an intersection in front of God and Country in the middle of Broadway)
We end up getting chased all over town by the other members of Gillettes’ Four wheel drive club for the remainder of the evening.
Fortunately, big tired, slow assed 4x4’s were no match for my cousins’ RS/SS Camaro.

We ended up sitting up w/ 6 other “reinforcements” for the rest of the evening with pipes and baseball bats while truck after truck paraded by the house until sometime after 3AM.

That was the last summer I spent in Council Bluffs. I moved across the river To Omaha that winter. Only heard one more time from Monty Miller after that. We were street racing on a highway in the Cornfields of Neola Iowa, at the annual Neola Nationals. and I was paired up w/ another 11oh car ( except the car had problems and he kept missing a gear. So he wasn’t running 11ohs that day)
When he came over to me to ask what I had done to the car to make it so fast, I was under the car closing the headers.
“Nothing, same car you decided that I insulted you with a couple of years ago”
I said as I remained under the limited safety of my undercarriage, taking a really long time to tighten that last nut.

I slid out from under the car completely alone. Nobody but him and me. He surprised me by apologizing for our last meeting, stating that he had been a little “hot headed” back then, but he was older now and he had quit drinking.
He basically did not believe that this was the same car, but it was. The only difference was now it was sporting it’s second paint job, Had letters running down the side to hide the scratches on the passenger door, Had 10.5 drag slicks, 5.43 rear end gears and a bigger cam that was good for 13.20’s in the ¼. ( sloooowwwwwwww)

He knew that Chevelle though, knew that it was fast enough and knew that I took the guys money that was being held at the starting line.

I didn’t tell him that the “fast car” I was paired against had either a mechanical defect or a bad driver. We were racing ¼ mile and he couldn’t see the guy at the big end trying to ram the thing into 4th while revving the engine through the roof.
So while it was known at the start that that Chevelle was capable of going 11’s, he got beat by Mustang of unknown potential.

I just let MM go on thinking that he was lucky he didn’t race me instead.
 
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Your stories give insight to your years of experience without coming across as a know it all. You have been fixing up cars & drag racing longer than I have been alive. I have a lot of respect for that.


Well thanks.

I like to think I'm a know it all, but the story(s) reveals that I clearly don't.
(know much)

Yeah, know it alls don't admit to getting whacked in the face w/ 2x4's, Scratching, no, destroying brand new paint jobs, or forgetting to add brake fluid to the car, and then almost dumping the whole car in the swimming pool because of it.

So bottom line: Know it all - NO, Smart ass - YES;)

I won't stack em up, But the next story is alot closer to current, deals with a Hurricane on dry land, Street racing, a fist fight where I throw the first punch, and a whole bunch of Sheriff's Deputys.......:popcorn:
 
I'm from jersey, but I read that story with a southern accent and it made it so much better. Had a Dukes of Hazzard feel to it. haha


But......I was in Iowa:shrug:

Nah, I get where you're coming from. Next time I'll change one of the names to Cleetus.:lol:

BTW: they DO have red necks in the midwest too! I know it for a fact! Honest! :D
 
There are rednecks everywhere! Its funny, again I'm for Northern New Jersey and the next county over from me has the biggest white trash/rednecks in the state. They talk with a southern accent, yet they are from New Jersey. It cracks me up every time.
 
Of course you are full of stories like that, that is life as a teenager in Iowa. There isnt **** to do, but drive around and look for adventure. Luckily my skinny butt kept my mouth shut to avoid the beating part. Sure did enjoy a lot of nights out on the back roads though.
 
Of course you are full of stories like that, that is life as a teenager in Iowa. There isnt **** to do, but drive around and look for adventure. Luckily my skinny butt kept my mouth shut to avoid the beating part. Sure did enjoy a lot of nights out on the back roads though.

I'll have to admit, life seemed to stay "interesting" regardless of where I ended up. But what seemed like life as usual in Iowa has certainly turned into a series of dumb assed experiences.:D

The next story is the pinnacle of me not knowing when to "keep my mouth shut". Maybe when you guys are ready for another.
 
I am in the thick of redneckville but I have been to a place or two in the north that even left me scatching my head.

That's what I'm sayin! Redneck isn't about geography, It's a way of life!

Although the south does seem to have the lion's share of Red. We were on a trip to Omaha a few years back and stopped in the Walmart in Jonesboro Ark. It was like we stepped into another dimension! :zombie:
 
Had to go to the attic for props lol. That's awesome. So this next story is going to have pics too? If you ever get tired of DOING car stuff, you could always publish the Chronicles of Mad Mike lol.

No, The "prop" was a flyer I posted all over town. I had to see if it was still in the old computer. It was.

Unfortunately, all of these cars were before digital, and the pics have all dissapeared. I know for a fact I left an entire album at the old house in the garage in the rafters. I have went there a few times, but nobody is ever home. after 12 years sitting in a non air conditioned building, they are probably garbage anyway.