Thursday, April 12, 2007

More Cars

You've seen the cars I own. Here are the ones I've built.


This one was called "Spot" for some reason. All riveted aluminum hull. I think the fenders were aluminum, but they might have been fiberglass. all mechanical bits were from a Simca Aronde. It wasn't easy posing this thing to make it look un ugly, but, there you go.
Yeah, they were fiberglass.







This was "Fido" welded steel hull, and body, fiberglass fenders and engine cover.1500cc FIAT OSCA engine, various transmissions at various times (Mercedes, Volvo, even a VW mounted in the rear) MGB brakes, Sunbeam Alpine wheels, and who knows what else?




Anas Platyrinchos (Mallard Duck)
Riveted aluminum hull, fiberglass body, gullwing doors (they leaked)
Mid engine All mechanical parts except the steering gear from FIAT 850
This thing was the mechanical source for the Amphibian. (See "Amphibian" on this site)


It was painted red and was sometimes referred to as "The Red Menace"
It was hideously ugly. This is the only picture of it that I can look at without cringing.

There was one more I built before these, but it didn't work and I have no pictures.

That's all the cars I have to show you, If I ever finish the two violins I'm working on, I'll most likely post them.

3 Comments:

Blogger butch said...

Man, do those pics bring back the memories. The Palmer Automobile Manufacturing Co. and the Palmer Basement Foundry were always works in progress. Most of the construction, design, and work was done, I think, at your Queen Anne house garage; that concrete monster that we sledge hammered a walk-hole in between it and the basement; or should I say half basement. The smell of damp earth under a house is always an excellent sense memory. I only remember a couple of windows down there, and many trouble lights and bare bulbs. The floor was always littered with metal and aluminum shavings, with bizarre looking contraptions clamped into heavy large vises on several benches, a million and one clamps and hundreds of metric tools strewn about. Sanding dust always lay heavey in the air as well. I wonder if Da Vinci's workshop ever resembled Palmer Foundry and Design? Of course I have yet to put my eyes upon the workshop basement of your Rainier Beach place yet. Does it resemble the Queen Anne shop?

I rode a lot in SPOT. You gave it, or sold it for 100 bucks to Kristi, and she was even able to get it licensed for the State of WA, as the pic shows. A homemade car is quite a treat to park your butt in and ride about in. It flexes and creaks in really odd ways reminding you that the Q/A was secondary to function. If I remember correctly, Kristi actually drove the car to California, and had it down there for a time. When it broke down, as many Palmer creations tended to do, there was no mechanic who could figure out the morphadite parts. So I think she had to sell it off cheap or junk it. At least when she still lived in WA, she could get you, after a bunch of grumbling on your part, to fix the damned thing.

For some reason I do not recall SPOT or FIDO much. Was I in California being a famous actor, between 1974 and 1985 when you were building them, or am I just having a senior moment. Which one was parked in a friends garage that collapsed on it?

In the 60's and 70's you always gave everyone the impression that somehow you were going to create, design, and build a cute car that would wow some actual car designer or company, and you were going to move up in the world, be snagged by Industry to cater to the public; the wealthy public of course, since with the right financing and backing you would more than likely crank out a car of DeLorian class. And yet it never happened. I never became a famous actor or writer, and you never became a wealthy and successful car designer, or race car mechanic. Actually I am surprised that you never hooked up with some racing team, and tuned up hot rods or funny cars. That might have been a gas. It still might be.

Glenn

8:02 AM  
Blogger butch said...

Correction: I do not recall FIDO or THE RED MENACE much. I type too fast and think too slowly much of the time. Do you ever have that problem? Oh, of course not. We loyal readership are waiting with one foot hanging in the air, dangling and denying gravity, while you complete your latest project, the two violins --so that you can snap pics of them and get them on the site.

I think you ought to use the site to publish your plays as well. They are not too long, and they might bring tremendous pleasure to some, and spark controversy for others. I know that I have not read the stack you provided me with yet. Time is of the essence after all, and I waste a lot of it writing and providing comments on FEEL FREE TO LAUGH.

Glenn

8:09 AM  
Blogger butch said...

I have always loved cars, and used to have a few fast ones. The last semi-hot rod I owned was a 1973 Mustang with a 351 Cleavland engine. I could not keep up with the repairs on it, so I sold it and moved down to a Nisson. I wrote a little ditty about my black beauty. It went something like:

THE LAST MUSCLE CAR

The first time that I
glanced out the kitchen window,
and saw the dawn's raspberry rays
dancing over its long hood,
and down its fastback,
it stunned me;
my 1973 Mustang,
muscled black on black,
resting buff on raised-letter radials
and chrome magnums,
its polished sleekness
stretched skin-tight
over thick channeled Detroit steel.

On city streets and
the vastness of freeways,
I had to constantly reign it in.
Yes, it turned heads
like any other muscle car,
but I noticed as I caught glimpses
of it gliding across the face
of glass buildings,
that it had something more
than pumped iron,
something unique and elegant.

Pantara-bred, like it could
speak five languages,
and only on the Autobahn
could it facilitate it's
thoroughbred grace
and top speed.
In traffic it seemed to
slice like a shark
midst schools of lesser vehicles.

At twilight I was
overcome with euphoria,
dropping down through
the darkness of tall trees
in my raven black cruiser,
scattering fat gravel
with thick radials,
embracing the stardust
that winked deep
into its ebon wax.

Glenn Buttkus, 1988

"A poet should be treated with lenience, and even when damned, should be damned with respect."
Edgar Allen Poe 1839

10:27 AM  

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