[DeTomaso] Pandora's Perils, Part V: I just stopped in to see what condition my (air) condition(er) was in...

[Christopher Kimball]

Up at 7:00 AM--way too early--so by 9:00 I could get to "Back to Basic Automotive," the auto repair place owned by the friend of Coz.  On the way, I dealt with a little bit of Phoenix rush-hour traffic, but still made it to the shop 15 minutes early.
Dave Hocking, the owner, was there to greet me.  Before I go any further, let me give a huge "thank you" to Dave and his crew.  He had planned on leaving mid-morning to get ready for a vacation in Wyoming, but agreed to see Pandora and me first, before he left.  I explained the problem (too much sweat, too little cool) and he got the car on the lift almost immediately.  By the time the project was completed, it was 2:30 PM.  I'll bet when he gets to Wyoming and finds out he didn't pack enough socks he'll be really mad at me...
That's the way it is with Panteras, though.  You start on what seems to be a small project, and all of a sudden it becomes a huge project leading to another and another, ad infinitum.  In this case, the problem about which I was aware was the small coolant leak at the sight glass.  I was told by someone that all that would be needed to fix that problem was a new "O" ring, which was easy to find at any hardware store.  Well, it turns out there are a pair of nylon washers on either side of the sight glass, but no "O" rings whatsoever (another Pantera myth dispelled).  Dave and his mechanics took care of that right away, but wait--there's more!  Next, they discovered that an A/C hose had split, causing all the R12 to split, too--into the atmosphere!  But wait, there's even more!  Order now and we'll also include a cracked fitting on the condenser, some loose header bolts, a necessary clutch adjustment, and a cooling shield for the new A/C hose.  Now how much would you pay?  Well, don't answer, because while all this was going on, I also did a little project of my own.  I covered the bottom of the ashtray/iPod dock with head shield.  I've been wanting to do that for some time, and it was nice that I had the chance to do so today.  I also had the chance to read an entire issue of World magazine and a complete Road and Track, too.  At noon, David, his crew and I shared a lunch of Kentucky Fried Chicken.  It was no complimentary "AmericInn" breakfast, but it was good, nonetheless.
I left with a properly adjusted clutchl and really cold A/C, at a price that is too low to print!  It pays to know the right people.  Thanks, Dave; thanks Coz.  
I've often wondered if Pantera owners are nice people before they own Panteras, and that's the reason they buy them--Panteras just appeal to nice people.  Or, it could be that people who buy Panteras become nicer just because they own one.  It also might be that since people who experience a shared trauma form a lifelong bond, Pantera owners have that bond.  There's nothing like finding out there are others who have parts falling off their cars with some regularity to create a connection that lasts a lifetime.
If anyone needs any kind of car repair in or around the Phoenix area, please call Dave Hocking at Back to Basic Automotive, 918 W. Jefferson, Phoenix, AZ 85007; phone: 602-253-7550.  Just don't tell him if it's your Pantera that needs work--he may run the other way! After leaving Dave's shop, I drove over to the track which is a short distance from the hotel.  It was great to see a number of Panteras racing around the track at speeds befitting cars of that pedigree.  I ran into (figuratively, of course) Pantera guru extraordinaire, Mike Drew, but we didn't have time to talk much.  I think he was in a hurry to chase after a beautiful, white car driven by an attractive woman.  It reminded me of that scene in American Graffiti with the Thunderbird and Suzanne Somers.  Of course, I might be completely wrong about what I thought I saw.  More than once I've made assumptions and found out later, much to my embarrassment, that my impressions were completely off base.  For example, 25 years ago I saw a beautiful flute player who smiled at me, and I thought that meant she wanted to marry me and help me amass a large collection of high-dollar collector cars.  OK, so sometimes I'm half-right...
When watching the cars tear around the track, I was careful to choose a seat that was in the shadow of one of the large billboards mounted to the top of the grandstand.  Even though it wasn't as hot as yesterday (in fact, while my car was in the shop this morning, rain came pouring down for at least an hour) it was still plenty hot.  At one point, the sun went behind a cloud, and things were actually quite pleasant for a moment.  It was then I heard a woman's voice behind me say, "When the sun goes behind a cloud is gets so cold--I should have worn layers..."  I couldn't believe what I was hearing!  Layers?  When the temperature is, like, 80 degrees?  You must be kidding!  I turned and introduced myself to Scott and Martha Miller.  I asked where they were from, and it all made sense when they told me they lived in San Diego.  They're used to being hot!  I explained that when my sisters and I were young and complaining we were cold, my English mother (who "lived through a war, you know") used to always tell us to wear layers.  At the time our home was heated to the extravagant temperature of 68 degrees.  Remember, Jimmy Carter was President then--although I think he advocated sweaters, not layers.
After a couple of hours at the track, and consuming a couple of Twinkies and a Frappuccino (yes, the little vendor truck actually had some Starbucks drinks!) I headed back to the hospitality suite and spent a few minutes listening to John Taphorn, Bob Reid and others discussing the particulars of trying to organize the members so that they could position their cars for a group picture.  I made the hilarious observation that it was like herding cats.  I only got a courtesy laugh until I explained, "You know, Panteras--cats--Pantera means "Panther" in Italian, and a Panther is kind of like a big cat..."  I then got two courtesy laughs.
At 6:00 PM I joined a group in the lobby to take a shuttle to the Rawhide Western Town and Steakhouse.  Before dinner I wandered around the "Western Town" part of the Western Town and Steakhouse grounds, which consists of a main street lined with buildings designed to look as if they were built in the wild west during the mid-1800s.  One peculiarity I noticed was that no matter what any particular building was called--"Saloon," Livery," "Blacksmith," General Store," etc.--the buildings were actually either food vendors of some sort or souvenir stores.  Another example of marketing brilliance, no doubt.  I can just imagine the advertising executives chuckling to themselves, "Yes, of course some of the guests might catch on that 'The Rawhide General Store' is filled with cheesy, western-themed trinkets, and may therefore pass by without going in.  But they'll never guess that the very next building, 'Silver Spur Western Wear' is filled with exactly the same stuff!"  
There was one store devoted just to toys.  I wondered how long the western toy store would last if it were located in Washington DC.--the entire window display was made up of dozens of realistic, toy revolvers.
I bought a rainbow sherbet ice-cream cone at the "Rootin-tootin' Olde-Tyme Ice Cream Emporium" (that's not really its name--I can't remember what it was called), and then decided to pay $5.00 to see a real-live gunslinger show at the Six Gun Theater (featuring "The Rough Riders").  I was a bit bewildered as I tried to determine if the theater was named after a half-dozen weapons, or one particular style of pistol that had the capacity for six bullets.  Before I could grab a bucket of paint to add the missing hyphen, however, the show started.  It was the typical, fun, western-theme-park fare, and I reacted quite emotionally to the presentation--not because the performance was particularly exciting, but because I remembered that it was not so long ago Vicki and I would take a young David and an even younger Donny to watch that sort of thing, and share in their innocent wonderment.  Time does, indeed, fly.
After the Marshall and Doc Holliday finished dispatching the bad guys, I moseyed over to the steakhouse.  I went in alone, but spotted an empty seat at a table occupied by Forest and Judy Goodhart, along with a friend of Judy's who Judy has known since 6th grade.  Without stopping to consider whether or not I would be horning in, I walked right up to the table and horned in.  I asked the rhetorical and often risky question, "is this seat taken?"  In reality, there wasn't even a chair there; it was just the end of the table, but anyone could see it could easily accommodate a chair with an eating person seated in it.  I think Forest recognized me, but for at least a moment, Judy looked a bit panicky as she tried to figure out who this bombastic man might be.  Once she got the subliminal signals from Forest, "this is Chris, and I think we're stuck with him through dinner," she recognized me and welcomed me with open arms.  We had a wonderful conversation over a great meal.  When I say "great meal" what I mean is, they had already eaten their first course and were ready for dessert.  I decided in the spirit of the Queen of England and the finger bowl, rather than embarrass them, I'd order dessert too--or should I say "two?"  Yes, I decided the only polite thing to do would be to order as my dinner a huge piece of chocolate cake with ice cream, a generous serving of peach cobbler a la mode, a glass of milk, a large, empty cup, and four additional scoops of vanilla ice cream.  "I thought you said 'two'" you might say.  Well, I had two desserts (the cake and the cobbler) the rest counts as one beverage (the ice cream mixed with the milk in the empty cup).  If you think about it, that was quite a nutritious meal.  It encompassed four food groups; dairy, bread, fruit, and legumes (the cocoa bean counts, doesn't it?)
Following dinner, I took the shuttle back to the hotel and revisited the hospitality suite, where I had the chance to talk with some nice fellows.  Jerry Brubaker, Jim Murch, and Jim Fusco chatted with me about various and sundry Pantera subjects, but then I struck up a conversation with Dale Gumm.  Dale has been to the annual POCA Fun Rallies 29 times!  We started talking about his Pantera, but then veered off course and into the sordid world of politics and political-correctness.  That resulted in quite the spirited conversation, mainly because I found out he and I tend to agree on a lot of things.  I think he enjoyed egging me on, and I knew it was time to go when I started screaming and jumping up and down on the table.
Tomorrow, it's off to a car museum, and then on to the real reason I drove four days to get here--Karaoke!
Sincerely,
Chris