Previously, there were two things that prevented me from ordering a kit. For one, the kits didn’t come with all the parts you needed; a donor car was required for the engine, suspension, electrical, etc. Two, some of the sheet metal work seemed a little too daunting for me.

Factory Five Racing is the world’s largest kit car manufacturer, and they were founded by car enthusiasts, like me. They were founded in 1995, but even in that time have developed a heritage of continuous improvement. The proof is in their numerous satisfied customers. There are many blogs and forums devoted to detailing the build process of kit cars. Factory Five Racing is regarded as making the best kits.

They recently introduced a kit for a ‘33 Ford-ish hot rod which doesn’t require a donor car and comes with everything (and I mean everything) you need except for: Engine, transmission, rear axle, wheels, tires, battery, and fuel pump. Everything else comes with the kit, including all the fasteners. I have decent mechanical skills, but limited sheet metal experience, but the sheet metal work looks manageable.

The time estimate on their website for assembly is 300 hours. I figured that’s for an experienced kit car builder, but after speaking to a company representative directly, they said that timeframe is for someone who has never built a car before. That’s me!

The car is essentially a modern spaceframe tube chassis with modern suspension, brakes, and steering with a retro-style body put over it. The only thing that’s old about it is its looks.

We’ll build everything mechanical, but I’m going to buy a race engine and transmission locally from Levy Racing and have the body work and paint done by a professional, also. The car weighs approximately 2100 lbs. and I’m looking for an engine with about 500 horsepower. This will provide a power-to-weight ratio of 4.2 lb. / Horsepower. For comparison purposes, a super-expensive Ferrari Enzo’s is 4.5 lb. / Horsepower (lower is better). I’d rather have the Ferrari, but I’m just trying to give you and idea of how fast the car should be.

The kit will be delivered at the end of January or early February of 2009. That’ll give us time to have the garage floor epoxied, buy and install a lift, and have the garage air-conditioned (it’s a necessity as we do live in Arizona). I’ll post information as there are updates.

Monday
As soon as I dropped off everyone at the airport, I arrived at my office and began searching for a black 2008 GMC Yukon Denali XL. Originally, I was looking for a lightly used one, but I soon realized that I could buy one brand new for almost the same price.

The local Scottsdale dealership, CardinaleWay GMC, apparently didn’t need any additional business since they replied to my request for their “Special Internet Pricing” with MSRP and didn’t respond to any more inquires for their “Special Internet Pricing”.

I easily found another local dealership, Glendale GMC. They’re located in a not-so-good area of town; often a good sign that they may like to make a deal. Using their website, I found a Denali in inventory. It was Black with a “Cocoa/Light Cashmere” interior. I contacted them via email and arranged to go look at it on Tuesday.

Tuesday
I arrived at Glendale GMC in the early afternoon (text message to Jamey: “at the store”). While driving there, I made a mental note of what I thought the trade-in value was for Jamey’s current car. I’d reviewed all the completed auctions on ebaymotors in order to see how much they’d been selling for at retail. I’d also checked the average trade-in value from Kelly Blue Book. Armed with what I thought was a reasonable number, I was ready to hold fast. If they offered me less than my predetermined amount, the plan was to fix the little things which were broken and sell it myself. I was also keenly aware that this car was previously in an accident and these days, with CarFax, that fact would hurt its value.

After looking at the vehicle that I’d asked to see, I discovered that I hated the Cocoa/light Cashmere (read: brown/tan) interior and asked if they had any others in stock. I settled on another which had an Ebony (charcoal) interior. The only difference was that it didn’t have the power-deployed running boards of the other.

My salesman, Ryan Green, offered to sell it to me for the invoice price. When a dealer sells a car, they receive an additional amount from the manufacturer called the “holdback”. Since car dealers need to make money too, I decided not try to negotiate into their holdback. Amazingly, the dealership also offered me $3,000 more for my trade-in than the minimum I was willing to accept. It was more than I thought I could’ve sold it for outright. Sold! My buying experience with Ryan couldn’t have been a more pleasant experience. The dealership is owned by Brown & Brown; the same company with which we previously had a great experience. A photo of the car is below:

Wednesday
To begin making the car special and unique (along with what every woman likes, making it more Darth Vaderish), I removed the rear badges from the tailgate (text message to Jamey: “working in the garage”). My plan was to remove all the badges, but as the garage was starting to warm up as the morning wore on, I quit after removing only the tailgate badges. Later in the day, I went to Discount Tire to pick out some new wheels and tires and make an appointment for Friday (text message to Jamey: “at Discount Tire making an appointment to get new tires.” My car needed new tires so she assumed that they were for my car).

Thursday
I swung by Airpark Tint and made an appointment to have all the windows tinted darker on Saturday. Later in the evening I went over to John and Josh’s house for pizza (which was delicious), to play Rock Band, and watch some episodes of Top Gear.

Friday
I dropped off the car at Discount Tire (text message to Jamey: “dropping off the car at Discount Tire for new tires”), and after they gave me a hard time about the suspicious-looking printing on our checks, they agreed to take my money. The wheels I picked out are made by a company named Akuza and are shown below:

After the wheels and tires were mounted, I drove home to put the stock wheels in the garage. While maneuvering in our driveway I noticed a strange noise. Upon closer inspection, the new tires were rubbing on the inside of the wheel wells and running boards during sharp turns and were pulling out a plastic fastener. I returned to Discount Tire where they disavowed any knowledge of this ever previously happening on a Tahoe/Yukon/Escalade. They attempted to sell me some ugly Falken tires that were in-stock instead of the cool Nittos that I’d picked out. I declined the Falkens and had them order me the slightly narrower Nittos (295 mm vs. 305 mm).

Saturday
I took the car to Airpark Tint (John also dropped his car off for tinting) and John, Josh, and I hung out at the office and ate lunch at a nearby hot dog joint (text message to Jamey: “waiting with John until his windows are done being tinted”).

Sunday
After watching the Hungarian Grand Prix on TV in the morning, I drove the car over to my parent’s house since their garage is climate-controlled (text message to Jamey: “checking on my parent’s house”. My parents were also out of town and I was checking on their house, too). I removed the remaining badges and painted the stock red GMC logo (which really isn’t removable) black.

The first thing to do when removing badges is to “saw” the badge off using dental floss.

After sawing off the badges, you’re left with the foam adhesive.

The best and safest way to remove this is through lots of tedious scraping with your finger nails. After that, the rest can be removed with an adhesive remover (I like to use Goo Gone). You can use a heat gun, but unless you’re very experienced in its use, you stand the chance of wrecking the paint.

After removing the badges, I spent the next hour prepping the grille badge to be painted. I wet-sanded the red part of the badge with 320 grit sandpaper and taped off the badge. Then I used an X-Acto knife to accurately expose the letters. After covering the surrounding area with a tarp to guard against overspray, I began priming (text message to Jamey: “watching TV at my parents house”. I was waiting for the primer to dry).

Several coats of primer later, I wet-sanded the badge again and began applying the paint.

Since I don’t do this kind of thing very often, I was nervous about the possibility of having poorly prepped the front. I figured that in a worse-case-scenario I’d just have the badge on the grille replaced with a new one.

Also, I added a black license plate frame with a smoked lens that I’d bought earlier from Autozone.

Finally, Sunday night
The was probably the most suspicious to Jamey because she tried to call me on my way over to take these photos of the car. Luckily, my mom had asked me to pick up their mail so I had to do that, too. (Verbally said to Jamey: “My mom left a message saying that she’d forgotten to have their mail held and wanted me to pick-it-up.”)

The finished vehicle:

Even though I have plenty of limited-traction driving experience, I was nervous about driving through the now-snowy mountains in a 5-ton rear wheel drive RV. I needn’t have worried though; the roads were surprisingly clear and mostly dry. We stopped high in the pass so the boys could get some exercise and play in the snow; something they don’t get to do often since we live in the desert.

We arrived in Las Vegas that evening and took a cab to the MGM Grand where I treated the boys to a great buffet dinner. Will had his fill of crab legs and John stuffed himself with roast beef. I explained to the boys that when you go to a $40 per person buffet, you don’t eat salad. We bought passes for the new monorail on the east side of Las Vegas Blvd. and rode it to the Venetian. From there, we took a cab back to the RV park.

Day 5 – Sunday
We spent a lazy morning in and around the RV before going to Bobby Flay’s restaurant, Mesa Grill, in Caesar’s Palace. The boys had never been there before and we enjoyed a fantastic meal. I try to get something different each time I go there. After eating, we piled back into the RV and made good time (for an RV) on our drive back to Scottsdale; 6 hours.

Even though we didn’t get to see any land speed racing on the trip, the boys and I had a great time just being with each other.

When we reached the end of the entrance road (at which point it became obvious to me why this area is referred to as “the boat ramp”) there was a young man from the event standing there assisting people. I stopped and asked if he thought there was going to be any racing today and he replied that he wasn’t sure and that we should go see. He was friendly and helpful and gave each of my boys a Bonneville pin (like flair).

Just before slowly driving down “the boat ramp” to enter the salt, a man pulling a streamliner on a trailer stopped and jumped out of his pickup and signaled for me to stop also. He wanted to ask me some details about our RV because he’d been thinking of buying one just like it. After chit-chatting with me and the boys about the RV, he suddenly said “hold on, I have something for your kids” and dashed off to retrieve something from his pickup. He came back and handed the boys each a small poster of his and his brother’s race cars. He thanked me for the information, and I thanked him for the posters, we shook hands and parted ways. I quickly tried to take a picture of the car he was towing.

After some research, it turns out that the man who stopped us was Rick Vesco and his family has been racing at the salt flats for 50 years! I learned that his brother, Don Vesco, who’s also depicted in the poster, unfortunately died of cancer in 2002 at the age of 63. Don’s streamliner The Turbinator was powered by a 3,750 hp Lycoming gas turbine helicopter engine and once hit 458.440 mph. Just the other day, I saw on TV that it’s now on display at a museum. The car that was being towed by Rick is named “The Little Giant” and in 1958 was featured on the cover of Popular Mechanics magazine.

Entering the salt was a special experience. For a car nut like me, this is hallowed ground. It was a couple miles before reaching the official pit area (which is just the spot on the salt where all the people are) only to see that everyone seemed to be packing up. CB radio is used as the public address system at Bonneville, so being prepared, I pulled out our portable CB and powered it on. After we’d been there about 30 minutes, the organizers announced over the radio that they were officially canceling the rest of the event due to the inclement weather.

We stayed on the flats for the next hour and met racers Shug and Irene Hanchard. Shug is the owner of So-What Speed Shop (get it?) and interestingly enough is originally from Scotland. Like everyone else we’d met there, Shug and Irene were very friendly and while loading their car onto the trailer, answered all our questions.

After the boys finished making their salt “snowballs,” we drove back to Wendover where the boys played outside in the crazy-strong wind while I read and watched TV for the rest of the day. That evening the boys helped me make pasta for dinner and we decided that we’d go back to Las Vegas on Saturday; a day earlier than we’d originally planned.

The boys did some of their homework they’d been assigned and we went to sleep.

It was at this point in the trip that I seriously contemplated just going home. After some reflection and coffee I felt relieved that we’d made it and the boys said that they were still having a good time, so once again we headed north. This time with a full tank of fuel.

It was a good feeling when we finally passed the point where I’d made the decision to turn around. We stopped in the very small town of Alamo and ate our lunch in the RV. I also rested on the couch for a little bit.

Before this trip I hadn’t ever been to any part of Nevada other than Las Vegas or Boulder City. The scenery while driving up the east side of Nevada was absolutely amazing! The variety of the things you see is just stunning. We saw everything from jagged cliffs, canyons, and snow-covered mountain peaks to lakes and grasslands. It seemed that every time we came around a bend there was a new feast for our eyes.

While driving through a canyon In the middle of nowhere, an F-18 from who-knows-where treated us to a low-altitude fly-by. We were further surprised when a couple minutes later, he flew over us at the same altitude but this time at about 700 MPH. Whooosh!

In the early evening, we stopped to eat at Arby’s in Ely for a nutritious dinner. We reached the RV park in Wendover, Nevada (the nearest place to stay to the salt flats) just before dark. It was cold and a bit breezy. The World Finals aren’t very well attended as evidenced by the mostly empty KOA. I spent the last bit of daylight connecting the RV to power, water, and sewer. I planned to get a good night’s sleep and drive over to the salt flats early the next morning.

It wasn’t long after we were settled in that night that the wind decided to pick up. “Pick up” may not be the right choice of words. “Near tornado” is more descriptive. It soon became bad enough that I began steadying myself with my hands as if I were in a boat while walking in the RV. Then it rained. The rain and the wind kept me up most of the night. At one point I worried about the vertical stability of the RV, but that was probably just the exhaustion talking.

The museum was kind of neat, but more like an over-sized gift shop. We stayed about 20 minutes and then drove through the factory complex and looked at some of the cars on which they were working. The was also a huge parking lot full of Shelby GT Mustangs awaiting delivery.

The fuel gauge on the RV showed a quarter tank of fuel remaining, so I passed up the opportunity to fill the tank near the Shelby factory. In hindsight, that decision turned out to be a critical error.

I think it was about 10 miles north of the factory that we exited the freeway and began to drive on two-lane roads which would comprise the rest of the trip to the salt flats. As I drove, I kept one eye on the fuel gauge and the other on the road. The lower the fuel level in the tank got, the harder I looked to spot some sign of a gas station on the horizon. With every hill we crested, I expected to see the next town. After traveling 38 miles from the Shelby factory and the last known gas station, the fuel gauge showed very little remaining fuel, so I found one of the rare places to stop on the side of the road which stretches through the barren desert landscape. I booted up my laptop computer, connected the GPS, and viewed our exact location on the map.

If we stayed the course, we’d need to drive 51 miles to the nearest town. If we reversed course, we’d only have to drive 38 miles. I knew we didn’t have even enough fuel to go back! The boys could tell that something was wrong and asked me what it was. I told them, “we’re going to run out of gas.”

After analyzing our options, with my heart in my throat, I decided to turn around and head back towards Las Vegas. I figured that we’d be better off running out of fuel near the freeway and closer to civilization than in the absolute middle of nowhere. I was also concerned for our safety if we ran out of fuel on the road that we were currently on because there’s almost no runoff area or shoulder on most parts and no phone service. I was going to bring my dad’s satellite phone, but he was using it while hunting in British Columbia at the time.

Trying to depress the accelerator as little as possible in order to save fuel, I turned the RV around and headed back towards Las Vegas.

I’d never visited Bonneville before, and since we don’t live that far away I thought it would be a great family experience. I researched the events and I decided upon attending a Southern California Timing Association (SCTA) event. The largest event at Bonneville, Speed Week, occurs in August during the boy’s first week of school so attending that event wasn’t a possibility. We decided to drive up to the World Finals using our RV. As a data point; this event was rained-out and canceled twice in recent years.

Day 1 – Wednesday
In the morning, I swapped my truck for the RV; stored in a special garage at my parent’s house. I checked the fluids and pressures, took a short test drive/run to fill the propane tank, and then came home to load for the trip.

I’d planned to get everything ready while the boys were at school and then depart at 3:30 p.m. for first destination: an overnight stay in Las Vegas. In hindsight, I had planned poorly and procrastinated packing until the last possible minute. This created some chaos that afternoon while preparing to leave. As it turned out, we didn’t leave until 4:45 p.m.

Ahead of a long drive, I was already feeling tired so we made a quick stop at one of the nearby Starbucks so I could get a bit of a jolt. One latte (for me) and two Frappuccinos (for the boys) later, we were back on the road. The drive to Las Vegas was fairly uneventful. We stopped in Wikiup and ate our dinner in the RV and then continued on to the Hoover Dam.

Since 9/11, they’ve installed checkpoints for all traffic crossing the dam. When piloting an RV, the checkpoints make it a bit more painful than when crossing in a regular passenger vehicle. The driver is required to exit the vehicle and open every exterior door and storage space on the RV so they can be checked for any explosives (we had none). Next they inspected the inside of the vehicle, which felt a bit intrusive.

30 minutes past the dam, in the vicinity of Henderson, my son William felt a little motion sick. We stopped in a parking lot at Green Valley Parkway and Lake Mead Blvd. and watched television for a while until he felt well enough to continue to the RV Park at Circus Circus.

Instead of taking the 15 and bypassing the strip, we drove up Las Vegas Blvd. (The Strip) so the boys could see the lights. Needless to say, they were pretty amazed.

We arrived at 11 p.m. and I didn’t realize that the RV Park’s office would close at a reasonable hour. To handle late arrivals, they post people’s names and their assigned campsite (read: parking spot) outside the office door. I looked for our name on the list and for some reason it was missing, but the night watchman was extremely helpful and not only helped me register for a campsite, but assigned me a good one.

I plugged into shore power, connected the water line, and then extended the slide-out. The boys and I had a little snack and talked for a while before going to sleep.

Eying my pizza and only half listening, I replied, “Oh that’s nice. Wait…what?”

A little background is probably on order: Recently, when our family was on vacation at our ranch, we played the game Boggle a fair amount. Since kids will eventually learn all the words that we know from some source, it’s my personal policy not to hide the “bad ones” if they ask.

While reconciling our words during Boggle one day, Will asked, “Is tit a word daddy?” to which I replied, “Uh, yes. It means boob“. This was followed by much snickering by the kids (ok, I laughed a little too). I told them it’s not really a word that you should use very often.

That’s the reason I was taken aback a bit by their use of it yesterday. I asked, “why would John call the cat that?”

“Well, you said it meant poop, didn’t you?”

“No, I said it means boob. B-o-o-b.”

This was followed by much snickering by everyone.

This has been an answer to prayer. When I spoke to my dad after he left the doctor’s office, he sounded happier than I heard him sound since his accident. He still won’t be able to put weight on that leg for quite a while, but he’s healing nicely. I’d like to give a special thanks to Dr. Nassar who did such a great job of literally putting his leg back together.

The swelling has subsided enough for Dr. Nassar (who has been great and we all really like) to operate again on Tuesday morning. In this second surgery, they’ll attach stainless steel plates to the bones in his leg with screws (I assume they’re also stainless steel) in order to strengthen his bone and allow it to heal. The plates will always be there, but I’m not sure if they’re only used to give it support to allow the bone to heal or if once the bones are healed they’ll always need the support of the plates. Maybe I’ll ask the doctor on Tuesday, although since the plates aren’t going to be removed he probably won’t understand that I’m just curious and may take it as a stupid question.

He said that he’d be able to get a walking cast 6-8 weeks after his surgery, making the earliest December 4. My dad is healthy and I know he’ll work hard on his physical therapy so that seems like a good date to work towards.

Here is a photo of him from this summer after a 100 yard dash. He looks pretty tuckered, but not bad for someone of such an advanced age.

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

At 11 a.m. PDT on Monday, while on a river getting out of a boat in shallow water, my dad stepped on a “grapefruit sized” rock, slipped off and tucked his foot under his ankle which caused him to fall onto his back. Our ranch manager (and friend, John) and the guides helped him back into the boat where he lay on the floor while they took him back five miles to their base camp.

At the base camp, they fashioned a stretcher by cutting-down a door and covering it with foam. They used it to carry him into the cabin and then called for help using a satellite phone. Three hours later he was picked up by an emergency helicopter which then had to hover over the treetops for an hour while the weather cleared. They took him to Dease Lake, and there a Dr. Clark splinted his leg and gave him some pain medication.

Later that day they flew him on a small “air ambulance” jet to Terrace, BC where he stayed at a very small hospital. During this whole time, my mother was regularly calling each of the medical facilities to find out where they were taking him and to inquire as to his condition; my mom is good at research and coordination. I think my brother and I must’ve got some of these qualities from her example.

The earliest time my mom could arrange to have a jet pick him up was 2 p.m. on Tuesday. My dad has since said that the people who cared for him in both locations in Canada were really great and that he was very appreciative.

An ambulance, my mom, and I met his plane at the Scottsdale airport at 8 p.m. Tuesday evening. In my twitter that night, I mentioned that the plane was small and they were having trouble getting people around him to help him off. In hindsight, the plane wasn’t Cessna 182 small; it is just small for a jet. Below is a photo I took (with my iPhone, sorry) that night. You can see him sitting in the doorway of the plane.

They were able to get him out of the plane by having him slide onto a backboard which they stuck into the doorway and supported the end that was sticking out. After they transferred him to a gurney, the wheeled him over and placed him into the ambulance.

We followed the ambulance to the hospital (Scottsdale North) where after a brief encounter with a fireman we know, he was rolled into a room (#16). It was probably helpful that we weren’t there on a weekend. Since he hadn’t taken pain medication in a several hours, my dad was in a lot of pain. He looked pathetic lying in the hospital bed still wearing camouflage while writhing in pain. A physician’s assistant came into the room and briefly examined my dad. He was having trouble grasping the whole chain of events that occurred in the past 31 hours. After checking his blood flow and taking new X-ray’s of his foot, the nurse gave him a shot of morphine which did little to make his pain subside.

After his first dose of morphine we received a call from John who was wondering how my dad was doing. My dad spoke to him on the phone and was asking if he thought he may be able to more easily get a late season hunting license for next year since he was injured this year. I thought it was funny that he was already talking about hunting next year. He then spoke on the phone to my sister and assured her that he would be ok.

They gave him more medicine because he was still in pain, which had the effect of making him act like he was narcoleptic. He would just fall asleep mid-sentence and then suddenly be awake again. Below is a photo of him while “asleep”:

The doctor came in about 9:45 and removed the splint to examine his leg and ankle. He affirmed what the doctor in Canada had said, that he had a spiral fracture of his fibula and tibia and would need surgery. The doctor left the room to call the orthopedic surgeon that my mom had found during her research, Dr. Nassar. During the time that my dad’s foot was unsupported by the splint, he was in even more pain than before. They confirmed that his vital signs were still good and gave him more morphine. Below is a photo of the x-ray where you can see one of the spiral fractures:

Here is a photo of his un-splinted leg and foot from that night:

After speaking to the orthopedic surgeon, they re-splinted his leg, gave him a prescription for Vicodin, and sent him home. The three of us stopped by the 24-hour pharmacy on the way back to their house. I stayed in the car and had a (what would normally be considered comical) conversation with my dad. He was very medicated still and would go to sleep and wake up every 2 minutes.

When we arrived at their house, it was difficult getting my dad into the house because he was heavily medicated and attempting to use crutches; usually a recipe for further disaster. We safely assisted him into his recliner and I went home. It was close to 1 a.m.

The next day, he was able to get an appointment at Dr. Nassar’s at 3 p.m. because of a cancellation. The doctor was very friendly and had a good “bedside manner”, which surprised my mom because she thought that most surgeons weren’t tremendously friendly. We were surprised by how much more swollen my dad’s ankle had become and how it had bruised since the day before. Below is a photo I took at the doctors:

After more X-rays, a thorough (and very painful) examination, and much discussion (which left me feeling faint), it turns out that not only was his leg broken but his ankle was badly out of joint contributing a great deal to the swelling and pain. Dr. Nassar said that my dad would need stainless steel plates screwed into this leg bones in order to repair them, but the surgery couldn’t be performed until the swelling was lessened. He said that could take one, two, or three weeks. He couldn’t really predict since everyone’s body is different.

To accelerate the lessening of the swelling and to help with the pain, he proposed that he perform a first surgery to relocate my dad’s ankle. In this surgery, he’d put a rod through my dad’s leg above the break and another rod through his heel bone. The rods would stick out each side of his leg, providing him a “platform” which he can use to “jack” into and hold the heel in position. Having agreed with the doctor with his proposed course of action, my dad is having that surgery done in two and a half hours from the time that I’m writing this (I need to wrap this up soon and get to the hospital).

At the end of his appointment with Dr. Nassar, they resplinted my dad’s leg and made an appointment for an ultrasound to ensure that he didn’t have a blood clot. He went to that yesterday with my mom; I guess it went ok.

I’ll be twittering from the hospital this afternoon and will make another blog post soon.

Congratulations to my friends Abbi and Jeff “still too lazy to blog, yet he now twitters” Williams on the birth of their second baby girl Isabelle Grace.

Heh, Isabelle…

Update: Photo

Nice driving, Cabe!

Happy birthday to the biter!

A poorly exposed picture of us in the OC California from this past weekend

He used his own image in ads and brochures, so by that time my grandfather (ever the self-promoter) had made a name for himself in the industry. To introduce his new product line, he decided to create a marketing campaign based on two generations of our family. The ads would have a double meaning. He chose me to be featured in the ads with him.

With the promise of a new catcher’s mitt upon completion, I had my first (and only) modeling job. It was a neat opportunity and an experience with my grandfather that I’ll always treasure.

The photos were used in brochures and full page ads that were run in all the trade magazines. After that, my grandfather and dad would bring me to tradeshows and have me talk to customers while operating the brake (which I was pretty good at, as long as I was only using 12″ long pieces) in order to demonstrate how easy it was to use. That experience proved to be invaluable when I was much older and working as a Regional Sales Manager for the company. I was able to operate the brake better than any of my sales reps. At 8 years old, in my mind I was famous!

(Click for a lot more detail)

Side Note: When attending a tradeshow or convention, to promote himself, my grandfather would always have himself paged over the loudspeakers, “Windy Marsh from Tapco please pick up a white courtesy phone. Windy Marsh, pick up a white courtesy phone.” To this day, I still think that’s brilliant.