Car 66

   This is a set of photo's I posted on G+ when I first started my profile there. I had some brief captions with the  photos. It is a good story, and a piece of my family history. So I thought I would revisit these pictures, and tell the story in a little more depth. I did not take any of these pictures, they are from my mothers collection. And I also have to say off the top, this story takes place before I was born. I was not there... My information comes from my family (Who were there...), and magazine articles that I have read. So this is how I understand it.

   This is my Grandfather, LaVerne Ottmar. This picture was taken in 1964. The year my Grandfather died. He died while out rabbit hunting from a massive heart-attack at the age of fifty-six. Being that I was born in 1971 I never had the opportunity to meet him. The car you see behind him is the Chevy 6. A car that he built from the ground up at home in his garage, on the corner of Miller and Fountain in Ann Arbor, MI. That is my Mother sitting in the car at age thirteen.

   This is my Mother sitting in his car again in 2008, in Connecticut. She received information on the cars location then, and made a trip out east to go see the car for herself. The car itself has a little bit of history and my family had lost track of the cars where-abouts for a long time. So I am sure it was quite an experience for her to go see a piece of her past.

   The deal with this car is not that it was super fast. It isn't that it won a ton of races. It was a six cylinder engine racing against big-block eights, and not just keeping up, it was a competitor. It was a fuel injected six cylinder, and it was the only one of it's kind.

   My Grandfather had worked for GM. I don't know dates and times unfortunately. But as I understand it he worked with the team, and was directly involved in the pioneering and invention of fuel injection. Of course, GM was full owner of any technology engineered by their employees, and my Grandfather never received any credit for his involvement. I don't know if it was these events specifically, but he and GM ended up parting on what I understand to be "bad terms".

   Some time after he left GM. Or possibly during the end of his career with them he started building this car.

   As I said, he built it in his garage, with what ever he could find to use. He had friends who worked with him on the car, but as my Mom tells it the garage was a secretive place. What happened in the garage stayed in the garage. He machined his own parts, cut and bent his own pipes and steel, and shaped all the sheet metal. He built the engine, the fuel systems, the frame and suspension. He did it all. Quite an accomplishment all on it's own.
    My Grandfather was very well known, and respected within racing circles. My Mother has a collection of photos from, I would guess, the 40's and 50's. They are all black and white photos of race cars, racing teams, and drivers. Some of them show Indianapolis Speedway when it was a dirt track. Nearly all of them are not just autographed, but have personal notes to him on them. And as I understand it there were always race cars parked outside of their house, waiting their turn to go in the garage to receive my Grandfathers attention.
   This car was a culmination of all his racing experience. GM became interested in what he had created in this car, and at some point offered to buy the car. Because of the bad blood that had developed between them, my Grandfather flat refused. As a matter of fact, he said he would rather park it under the porch and piss on it than sell it to GM.

   My Grandfather retained the car until he died in 1964. After that my Grandmother sold the car. And that is were the history of the car becomes less clear to the family.
    Years later Jack Layton was in Ohio and recognized the car in a scrap heap. He obtained the car and rebuilt and restored it. It is not clear to me how long he had the car, but over time it ended up living in a couple of different museums, and was eventually purchased by this private collector in Connecticut. And I'm sure there were others in between.
   There have been several magazine articles about this car. My favorite is an article published in Open Wheel Magazine, in November of 1986, titled "My Life as a Sprint Car". It tells a version of the cars history, from the cars perspective. It's written as if the car is telling the story. Some of the story told there does not exactly match the things I have heard from my Mother, Aunts, and Uncle. It's okay, it doesn't have too, as I said even they are not clear as to what happened after the car was sold. So it is hard for me to say exactly how the car ended up in the places it did.
   As well respected as he was within the racing community, there are a lot of different opinions regarding my Grandfather personally. He was definitely a unique individual no matter who you talk too. Some say he was a genius, some would tell you he was as crazy as his ideas. Knowing my family, I would be willing to believe maybe a little of both. Regardless, he created not just a piece of cool family history, and racing history, but he left a mark in time that will likely outlast generations of my family... I can only hope to do the same within my own lifetime. Hats off to Grandpa...

My Life In A Snapshot 4

   This photo was taken in 1987, I was sixteen years old. I was at an archery shoot at the Chippewa Blackhawks archery club, in Jackson, MI.
   I laugh when I look at this picture... Look at all that hair (it was the eighties...) I look so nice and innocent. I suppose I was a nice kid (most of the time...) But I was anything but innocent. This picture was taken a couple of months before I  was sent to the SAI (Special Alternative Incarceration) State Boot-camp Program. And probably a little more than a year before I was sentenced to State Prison. I'm still not ready to delve into that whole story, but that was were I was at that time in my life.
   Archery shoots were a staple activity for my dad and I. We went to at least one shoot every week, sometimes two. It was one of the things we did together that we really had a good time with each other. My dad was very proud of my ability with a bow.  For me, archery was more than that though. It was one of the few things that I was proud of my own ability with. It was something that I was good at, and enjoyed, and I didn't feel that way about many things then.
   My dad taught me about all aspects of traditional archery. By traditional archery I mean long bows, wooden arrows, shooting instinctively with no sites. He taught me how to shoot, how to make my own arrows, and craft leather to make my own quiver and arm-guards. I made the quiver and arrows I'm wearing in this picture as a matter of fact. We even made our own broad-heads from steel, bone, or antler. Not only was archery fun it was highly educational. There are countless life skills that I could tie to my experience with archery.
   One of the most valuable things I learned from archery was how to compete. And how to respect competitors. It isn't all about winning. In many sports there is a fellowship among it's competitors. But I think that to be especially true among traditional archers. My dad was friends with a lot of the guys that went to the archery clubs, and we went to a lot of different clubs. He was also a craftsman and traded goods with many of the fellows we would meet there. Often times we would shoot through the courses with his friends and their children. So I ended up spending the day hanging out with he kids I was competing against most of the time. For me it was about having fun, and having fun with my dad. I didn't really care about if I won or not.
   Don't get me wrong, I shot to win, I liked winning. And I did my fair share of it. But I could handle it if I didn't. And my dad always made a big deal of how well I did whether I won or not. Most of the time I congratulated whatever kid won and we got are bows and went to the practice targets or walked around and shot trash. There were times when I got competitive, but I didn't have as much fun... And I didn't shoot as well.
   I was a pretty skilled archer, even as a kid. I often did win if not place in most of the local tournaments. I attribute some of that to skill, but also there were times when there were not many kids that shot my class. Not to knock myself, that's just the way it was. I don't know how many trophies and medals I won, there were quite a few of them. My dad had our trophies on a sill in the kitchen, he valued them more than I did. The ones I was really proud of were the second place trophy I won for the overall at the Great Lakes National Longbow Invitationals in 1986, and the first place plaque I won at the same event for the aerial shoot. I hit eight out of ten, four inch discs thrown into the air. At my best, about a year later, right about when this picture was taken, I could usually hit six or seven out of ten quarters thrown into the air. And I have seen my dad shoot aspirins out of the air.
   I know, pretty unbelievable right. Well, it's true believe it or not. Archery was a very positive influence in my life, at one of my most negative times in my life. I loved it, and I put a lot into it. A lot of my family, and a few of the friends that I grew up with read this blog, and I promise you no one will call me out on my claims.
   Sadly, those times are past. I have my bow still, but I haven't shot in many years. I'm sure I could still hold my own, but I doubt I could ever reach that skill level again. For one thing, my reflexes and instincts are just not as sharp as they use to be. But more than that, a big part of the fun of archery for me, was the camaraderie at the shoots, and the time spent with my dad. It is not the same standing in the back-yard shooting at a target by yourself. And the people I run with these days just aren't into it like that.
   Honestly, It's not all that sad. I experienced archery in a way that not many people do. And I have never let go of the experience. I still carry all the knowledge, and lessons learned from the experience if not the skill. And I satisfy the same needs of camaraderie and fellowship through fishing. And my passion and love of fishing stems from the same experiences anyway. So, I guess it's not like there is some black-hole in my life from not shooting my bow. But, I'd be lying if I told you I didn't miss it sometimes. Maybe someday I'll get the bow back out and clean the dust off. Find somewhere and someone to fling some arrows around with. Until then, I'll treasure the memories and experiences I have gained from the great sport of archery, and I'll keep flinging those lures. If I ever quit fishing... just put me out of my misery.