#WEDS Albino wheels
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BATHURST SPECIAL
ALBINO Bathurst Special
Limited release of 200 pieces Now accepting reservations
Held at Mount Panorama Circuit in Australia
<Bathurst 1,000km Endurance Race)
Toyota AE-86
It was adopted as Japan's first international FIA standard Group A specification and will be participating in Team Toyota Australia.The legs will be decorated with Albino Special.
We are looking forward to a sure victory.To commemorate this great achievement, we have created a special Albino!
It will be released in limited edition
Please apply at your local store as soon as possible.
euro advanced three piece wheel
ALBINO BATHURST SPECIAL
JAWA
Car Life Creator Weds
WEDS CO. LTD.
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Yellow Fever
The coroner opens a body bag.
“Agents, meet Frank O’Brien,” The coroner said.
“He died of a heart attack, right?” Chase asked.
“Three days ago.”
“But O'Brien was 44 years old and, according to this, a marathon runner.” Sam added.
“Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security.”
“Yeah, but Frank kicked it here. Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?” Dean asks.
“Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?”
“Look, we just want to see the autopsy results,” Harley says with a fake smile.
“What autopsy?”
“The one you are going to do.”
***
The coroner cuts open Frank O’Brien’s body, “First dead body?”
“Far from it,” Dean says.
“My mum, she used to make us watch autopsies during dinner when we were little.” Harley says smiling fondly down at the dead body, “For a while I actually wanted to be a coroner.”
“Fascinating,” The coroner says, slight hesitation in his voice, “Hand me the rib cutters, would you?”
“Sure,” Harley says, handing him the tool.
Sam looks uncomfortable, shifting on the heels of his feet, glancing at the others. Chase notices, but simply ignores his discomfort.
“Is that from a wedding ring? I didn't think Frank was married,” Chase says pointing at Frank’s left hand.
“Ain’t my department,” The coroner responds.
“Any idea how he got these?” Sam asks, picking up Frank’s left arm.
It was covered in red scratches.
“You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground.” He pauses, his brows drawing together in confusion. “Huh.”
“What?” Chase asks, looking closer at what he’s looking at.
“I-I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries,” The coroner says, taking the heart out of the body.
Dean gags, looking ready to vomit, noticed easily by Harley, who rolls her eyes.
“Heart looks pretty damn healthy,” The coroner says, handing the heart to Dean, “Hold that a second, would you?”
Sam smirks. Chase has to stifle a laugh, pretending to clear her throat.
The coroner cuts the spleen and it splashes all over Sam’s face causing Dean to smirk, and earning a small smile from Harley.
“Oh, sorry. Spleen juice,” The coroner says.
***
Sam, Dean, Chase, and Harley all sit waiting outside of the Sheriff’s office. The deputy smiles at Dean and the Sheriff opens his door.
“Hell's bells, Linus, have you seen my.... Who are they?” The Sheriff asks upon seeing the Winchesters plus one.
The group stands finally done waiting.
“Federal agents. I, uh....” Linus, the deputy, trails off.
“And you kept them waiting?” The Sheriff asks.
“You, you said not to disturb.”
“Come on back,” The Sheriff says, directed towards the fake feds.
The gang began to head to the door, but were stopped at it.
“Shoes off,” The Sheriff directed.
The hunters complied, but not before Harley rolled her eyes, and entered the office.
Chase shoots a confused look to Harley, slipping her boots off carefully, so that her knife isn’t seen.
Motioning them into the office, the Sheriff gestures to a few seats. “Al Britton,” he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you all.”
“You too,” Chase says.
Al shakes each of their hands before sitting down. He grabs hand sanitizer and begins to rub a lot onto his hands. Chase recoils at the strong smell, as does Harley.
“Okay, so, what can I do for Uncle Sam?” the Sheriff asks.
Ironically, Sam is the one to answer. “Well, we’re looking into the death of Frank O’Brien. We understand some of your men found his body.”
“They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were gamecocks.”
Dean laughs the tiniest bit under his breath, but silences himself with an elbow from both Chase and Harley, who sit on either side of him, and a stern look from the Sheriff.
“That's our softball team's name,” The Sheriff explains, “They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was...He was a good man.”
“Yeah, big heart,” Dean comments.
Harley has to stifle a laugh receiving another look from the Sheriff and one from her best friend.
“Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?” Chase asks.
“Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy.” The Sheriff says.
“You know what scared him?” Sam asks.
“No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest,” The Sheriff pours copious amounts of hand sanitizer into his hand and rubs it in.
The Winchesters all look at each other while Harley facepalms.
“So, why the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?” The Sheriff asks.
“No, no. It's probably nothing. Just a heart attack,” Dean answers.
***
“No way that was a heart attack,” Dean says as the group walks to the cars.
“No way in hell, three guys going from freaked to terrified to dead with the same red scratches. Too improbable,” Harley says.
“Something scared them to death?”
“Okay, what can do that?” Chase asks.
“What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things.”
“Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off,” Sam suggests.
“Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?” Harley asks.
“Uh, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins.”
Dean was looking ahead at teenagers by the cars, “Hang on, hang on.”
“What?”
“I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there.”
“Dean, we fight monsters. I think we can handle a few teenagers,” Harley laughs.
Still Dean crosses the street and everyone else followed, “Let's walk this way.”
Chase and Harley shoot each other a look.
***
“Tyler, Perry, Kramer, and Crespo. Just like Aerosmith,” Frank’s neighbor, Mark, noted.
“Yeah,” Sam says, looking around the room, “Small world. So, the last time you saw Frank O’Brien.”
Dean backs away quickly from a large lizard staring at him through a glass case, bumping into Harley.
Chase raises a brow at him, but turns back to Mark Hutchins.
“Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains.”
“Did you talk to him recently?” Chase asks. “Did he seem different? Uh, scared?”
“Oh, totally. He was freaking out.”
Chase notices that Dean looks a little freaked and has since earlier that day. She frowns.
“Do you know what he was scared of perchance?” Harley asks.
“Well, yeah, witches.”
The gang all exchange glances.
“Witches?” Sam asks, “Like...?”
“Well, "Wizard of Oz" was on tv the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him.”
“Did anything else spook him?” Harley inquires.
“Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff.”
Dean casts another glance towards the fish tank.
“So, tell me. What was Frank like?” Sam asks.
“I mean, he’s dead, you know? I don’t wanna hammer him, but he got better,” Hutchins says hesitantly.
“Got better how?” Chase asks.
“Well, in high school, he was a. Well, he was a dick.”
“A dick?” Harley asks.
“Like a bully,” he explains. “I mean, he probably taped half the town’s butt cheeks together.”
Chase wrinkles her nose at the thought. Dean snickers.
Hutchins continues, “Including mine.”
At this Dean stops, looking abashed, while Chase’s eyebrows shoot up in second hand embarrassment.
“So he pissed off a lot of people,” Dean says. “You think anyone might want to get revenge?”
Hutchins looks at them all, confused. “Well, I- Frank had a heart attack, right?”
“Just answer the question, sir,” Harley says.
“No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife.”
Dean perks up a bit at the last statement, “His wife? So he was married.”
“She died about 20 years ago. Frank was really broken up about it.”
Harley notices Dean eyeing the snake around Mark’s neck and shoots him a confused look. Apparently Hutchins noticed too.
“Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for,” he says nodding to the couch the four were sat on, “She smells fear.”
An albino burmese python began to crawl up from behind the couch as if on cue. Harley pet it’s head. Dean gasps and stays uncomfortably still as Marie crawls across his lap. Chase smiles in delight, reaching out to run a hand down the length of her scales.
***
The girls were in the Lincoln ahead of the Impala headed to the motel, Sam and Dean on speakerphone.
“Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room, suicide,” Dean says.
“Any chance Frank helped her along?” Harley asks.
“No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi.”
“How was Frank’s pad?” Dean asks.
Sam’s voice comes through the speaker clearly, “Clean. Searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur.”
“So probably no ghosts,” Chase says.
“No witches,” Harley continues.
“And no demons,” Chase finishes, her grip on the steering wheel tightening.
“3 down and 97 to go,” Harley laughs.
“Dude, you’re going twenty,” Sam says.
“And?” Dean asks, his voice irritated, obvious despite the phone static. Chase raises a brow.
“That’s the speed limit,” Harley notes as they turn onto a different road. “We’re way past you guys. Almost back at the motel.”
“What? So safety’s a crime now?”
“Dude,” Sam exclaims, causing both girls to wince and cast a wary glance towards the phone. “What’re you doing? That was our motel!”
“Sam, I’m not going to make a left turn into oncoming traffic. I’m not suicidal.”
Harley and Chase simultaneously scoff at this.
“Did I just say that?” Dean asks.
“You did, indeedy,” Chase says.
“That was weird,” Harley says as Chase parks near their room.
An odd high pitched whine comes through the phone.
“What’s that guys?” Chase asks.
“Is that the EMF meter?”
The other line stays silent, before Dean suddenly exclaims, “Am I haunted? Am I haunted?”
The line goes dead, Chase and Harley shooting each other worried looks.
“What the fuck?” Chase asks.
***
Sam is on the phone talking to Bobby, while the girls read from various books of ghost lore. Music suddenly starts and the three look over and head over to see Dean lying in the Impala playing the air drums. Eye of the Tiger blasts from the radio and Chase and Harley smile.
Dean sits up, noticing the three. “Guys, look at this!” He pulls his sleeve back enough to show red scratches on his forearms. Chase and Harley frown and look to each other, worried. Sam nods.
“I just got done talking to Bobby,” Sam says.
“And?” Harley asks.
“Um, well y’all aren’t gonna like it.”
“What?” Dean asks.
“It’s ghost sickness.”
“Ghost sickness?”
Chase scoffs. “Sounds 100% made up.”
“It’s not. And Dean has it,” Sam says, shooting Chase a look.
“God, no,” Dean says.
“Yeah,” Sam sighs.
“I don’t even know what that is,” Dean says, his eyes widening in panic. Chase snorts out a laugh, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation.
“Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes.”
“Lovely,” Harley comments, “So how’s it work?”
“Symptoms are you get anxious,” Sam starts, but Dean cuts him off.
“Yeah,” Dean confirms.
“Then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah, but, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks,” Dean counters.
“Pretty sure we were around a body that had it though,” Harley points out.
“Right. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero,” Sams explains.
“Our very own outbreak monkey,” Chase says.
“Right. Get this. Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims.”
“Were they gamecocks?” Dean asks, making fun of the name.
Sam gives him a stern look. “Cornjerkers.”
“So, ghosts infected Frank and he gave it to the other guys and I got it from his corpse?”
“Right.”
“So now what, I have forty eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?” Dean demands.
“More like 24,” Harley points out.
Dean looks at her blankly. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she replies cheerily.
He rolls his eyes. “So why only me? Why not you guys? Sam, you’re the one that got hit with spleen juice.”
Sam looks uncomfortable for a mere second. “Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer.”
“Okay.”
“Basically, they were all dicks.”
Chase winces. “Wow, straight for the kill, man.”
“So you’re saying I’m a dick?” Dean asks.
“It’s okay, Dean, you’re my favourite dick...That sounded better in my head,” Harley says, trying to cheer Dean up.
“No, thanks, really. That helped bucketloads,” Dean says sarcastically.
Chase is fighting a smile, but gestures for Sam to continue.
“Well, it’s not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor.”
“I don’t scare people,” Dean says.
“Uh, I hate to break it to you man, but all we do with our lives is scare people,” Chase points out.
“Okay, well then you’re dicks too.”
“Apparently not,” Sam says.
“I don’t know. Harley can be a dick sometimes,” Chase teases, elbowing her friend.
“This is true,” Harley agrees.
“Whatever,” Dean says with an eye roll. “How do we stop it?”
“We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up.”
“I’ve always hated the word should,” Chase sighs.
“Are we thinking Frank’s wife?”
“We never did learn why she killed herself.”
“Hey,” Sam says frowning, “What’re you doing out here waiting anyway?”
“Our room’s on the fourth floor,” Dean says hesitantly.
Chase fights another laugh. Sam sighs.
“It’s high,” Dean adds.
“I'll see if I can move us down to the first.” Sam says.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
***
Sam, Chase, and Harley entered the boys’ room to see a broken clock on the floor and Dean on the couch, a beer in hand.
“Uh, is everything okay?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, just peachy.”
“What did it do to you?” Chase asks, gesturing to the clock.
“Made me angry.”
Raising her eyebrows, Chase nods slowly. “Uh huh, okay.”
“Find anything?”
“Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost,” Sam says.
“Quit picking at that. How are you feeling?” Harley asks.
“Awesome. It’s nice to have my head on the chopping block. I almost forgot what it feels like.”
“Yeah,” Harley sighs.
“It’s freaking delightful.”
“We’ll keep looking,” Chase promises.
Dean starts coughing violently.
“You okay? Hey!” Sam asks, worried, “Dean.”
He starts to choke and rushes to the sink gagging until he spits a wood chip out.
“We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have, you.” Sam says.
“I don’t want to be a clue,” Dean complains.
“The abrasions, this disease, it’s trying to tell us something,” Sam points out.
“Tell us what?” Dean demands. “Wood chips?”
“Exactly.”
***
The group arrives at a nearby lumber mill. Exiting their cars, they look around at each other in hesitance. The mill is large, broken down, with ‘keep out’ signs on the front.
Dean looks at the mill, and shakes his head, “I'm not going in there.”
“You’re going in, Dean,” Sam says.
“C’mon scaredy cat, you got this. Bravery isn’t not being scared, it’s running towards what scares you,” Harley says, encouraging him.
Dean takes a large gulp of whiskey from a flask, “Let's do this. It is a little spooky, isn't it?”
“Yes Dean, it’s very spooky,” Chase sighs as Sam hands Dean his gun.
“Oh, I'm not carrying that. It could go off. I'll man the flashlight,” Dean says refusing the gun causing Harley to roll her eyes. He grabs the flashlight tightly with an anxious smile on his face.
“You do that,” Sam says.
***
The EMF meter goes off in Sam’s pocket, causing them all to jump and look towards him in surprise.
“EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?” Dean asks.
“You don’t say,” Chase says sarcastically.
“Come on,” Sam replies before crouching down in front of what looks like a dirty tissue, “Wait,” He pulls a golden wedding band out from underneath it.
Dean crouches down with the flashlight so Sam could read the engraving on it.
“‘To Frank, Love, Jessie’ Frank O’Brien’s ring,” Sam says, getting up.
“So Frank was definitely here.” Harley says.
“But what the hell was he doing here?” Dean asks.
Chase shrugs. “Who knows. Let’s just find this ghost.”
They continue on into another room, dust lining everything, from the small tables in the corner to the lockers lining the far wall. Cobwebs hang in every corner, causing Chase to stand in the very middle of the room while Sam and Dean go over to the lockers.
Sam opens a locker slowly, just for a cat to jump out. Dean, startled, shrieks loudly, jumping about wildly, flailing his arms. This action causes Chase to also scream out in surprise. She immediately notices the cat, however, and calms herself down, turning a glare to her older brother.
“That was scary,” Dean says matter-of-factly. Sam rolls his eyes and starts to walk away. “Wait!”
Ignoring the three others for a second, Chase runs after the cat, managing to catch it. She cradles it and walks back over to the group. Harley raises an eyebrow at her.
‘What?’ Chase mouths.
Harley shrugs, and reaches a hand out to stroke the cat’s head, then sneezes. Dean jumps slightly, whirling around to cast a cautious glance at Harley, then notices the cat in Chase’s arms. He backs away a step. Once Dean turns around Harley sneaks up behind him and digs her fingers into his sides causing Dean to scream and shoot her a nasty glare while Chase and Harley laugh their asses off.
Sam reaches down and picks a card off the table, only to pass it to Dean, saying, “Luther Garland.”
Dean, now backed away to the other table, points to a drawing. “Hey, this is uh. This is Frank’s wife.”
Chase lets out a low whistle. “The plot thickens.”
“Yeah, but into what?” Sam asks.
Dean suddenly bolts past the three, out of the mill. Chase starts to run after him. “Dean!”
Harley whirls around and notices a ghost behind Sam. “Sam, get down!”
Sam turns and ducks quickly as Harley shoots the ghost, causing it to vanish.
Sam turns to Harley and nods a thanks as they both head out to the Impala. Chase is gently placing the brown cat in the back of the Lincoln. Dean is drinking a copious amount of alcohol.
“Guess we got the right place,” Sam states.
***
“Dean, it’s just a small cat. You’re not even allergic!” Chase reprimands, holding the cat against her chest. It meows indignantly at Dean, who frowns at it.
“I might develop an allergy though!”
“Dean, I’m allergic, and even I know it’s fine to be around the cat, much less be around Chase just because she’s held one recently.”
Chase points at Harley, a look on her face screaming, ‘Exactly!’
Dean shakes his head, taking a stubbornly defiant step back. Sam sighs, rubbing his forehead, and exasperated look on his face.
“Guys, you’ve both held the cat. And since Dean,” Sam gives an annoyed look to Dean upon saying his name - Dean looks at him in indignation and scoffs, “And that means you guys aren’t much help right now. Just go to the motel and figure out a shelter nearby to get rid of it, take a shower, and join us later. Okay?”
Chase rolls her eyes, scoffing, in sync with Dean. They both sigh and nod. Harley laughs at the two.
“Yeah, Sam, that works,” Harley says.
Chase grumbles but agrees nonetheless.
Back in the motel room, Harley and Chase sit on the floor, the cat between them, trying to come up with ways to get the cat to a safe place.
“We could give him to Cas?” Harley suggests.
“I mean, I guess.” Chase frowns, jerking her hand away from the cat’s claws. His now clean fur bristles as he - Chase had drawn the short straw and washed him, and checked - turned away from her, wandering straight to Harley, whom he seemed to favor despite her allergies. “Cas is a no show recently, though, so I don’t really think he’d come down for this.”
“Yeah, but there aren’t any shelters nearby. So what else can we do?”
“Nothing else, I guess. I definitely don’t want to just put him back in that mill. Do you think he’d answer if you or I prayed to him?”
“I think it’s worth a shot.”
“Okay, do you want me to or do you want the honors?” Chase pauses. “We could say we found a seal?”
“Or we could just say it’s of dire importance, I mean we don’t have to lie to the guy. Just not tell him everything.”
Chase looks down at the cat, who stares at her from between Harley’s crossed legs. She sighs dramatically and leans back against the bed. “Fine, I’ll do it. But only for you,” Chase says, pointing at the cat. She then frowns. “You-you- cat. We need to name him first. Then I’ll do it.”
“Catiel.”
Chase gives Harley a side look. “How long have you been sitting on that one?”
“Since I thought about looping Cas in.”
“Of course. You wouldn’t be Harley if you didn’t make some form of pun or bad joke. Not that it’s bad. The cat fits the name. Doesn’t like me much, that is.” Chase scoffs to herself, before sighing. “I guess I’ll pray now.” Chase ignores Harley, who begins to just laugh about the name “Catiel”, while playing with the cat himself. She sighs again.
“Oh, uh, Cas. Hi, me. Chase Winchester. Look, Harley and I need you down here for something…” No response. Chase glances around the room, and frowns. “Please, Cas it’s really important to me and we kinda need your help. It’s an emergency.”
“What’s wrong?” A male voice suddenly asks. The girls jump and turn to Castiel, who looks at them with narrowed eyes.
Catiel, who’d somehow immediately jumped to be by Castiel’s side, rubbing along his legs, somehow unnoticed by Cas, meows up at him. Castiel slowly looks down, only to freeze, look up at the girls, then back down.
“What is this?”
“A cat. His name is Catiel,” Harley says proudly.
Castiel sighs. “Well, yes I know it is a cat but- Wait. You have named him Catiel? Like…”
“Like after you, yeah,” Harley says, with a tone of ‘duh’ in her voice.
“Why am I here?” Castiel asks, his eyes going to Chase. She blinks at the sudden attention and stutters when trying to answer.
“We need help with Catiel. He needs to be brought to a shelter, but there aren’t any near here. And you can just poof everywhere.”
Cas looks as though he wants to comment on several parts of that statement, but resigns himself to ignoring both the cat’s name and the ‘poofing’ comment once more. “I am a heavenly soldier of the Lord and you think I’m available to you as your errand boy?” he asks in a commanding tone.
Chase raises a brow at this. “Wow, but when you needed something done, you had no problem coming to us and asking us to help you. And Harley even named the poor thing after you, how horrible of you.”
Cas’ eyes narrow further. “You said it was an emergency.”
“This is an emergency!”
“I thought you might’ve been hurt. Or there was a seal. Or something actually worth my time.”
“Castiel, take this cat to a shelter or else,” Chase demands. She looks at Cas, all five feet four inches, sitting criss-crossed on the floor, a stuffed animal discarded to her right, glaring up at an angel, demandingly. He blinks.
“Fine.” His voice is gruff and he seems hesitant, but doesn’t argue any further.
“Thanks, Cas,” Harley says grinning, “Now we can get to the list.”
“List?”
Chase smiles. “Yes. List. Now, Catiel has to go to a no-kill shelter. Can not be vegan run. Preferably not an SPCA organization, since those usually pool money for themselves. Maybe one with no adoption fees, maybe vaccinations included. Spaying is probably important. Harley, am I missing anything?”
“Purina food. Only the best for our little Catiel,” Harley adds.
Castiel gives Harley a blank stare. “Of course. Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.”
Cas looks to Chase again, the look on his face quickly becoming devoid of any patience. “What?”
“You have to pick him up,” Chase smiles.
“What?”
“You have to pick him up to poof him around, Cas,” Harley repeats.
“Please, Castiel,” Chase says, bringing out the puppy eyes, a trait she shares with her younger brother, Sam. “This is really important to me. I’d keep Catiel if I could, so would Harley. We just want to make sure he stays safe.”
Castiel’s face softens reluctantly as he groans, his head tilting back as his eyes flick to the ceiling for a moment, as though praying. “Alright. Alright. Catiel will be fine,” Cas says, hesitating at the name, but seeming to warm up to the idea, if only slightly. He bends over to pick up Catiel, and lifts him awkwardly into the air, holding him away from his body, as though Catiel could cause some kind of damage.
“I mean, that isn’t how you hold a cat, but, it’s better than nothing,” Chase sighs.
“I’ll miss you, Catiel.” Harley says oh so dramatically.
***
Sam calls Chase and she puts him on speakerphone. “Dean’s gone,” Sam says through the speaker.
“What?” Chase and Harley question at the same time.
“Dean’s gone. He ran off and I can’t find him.”
“We’ll find him, Sammy, don’t worry,” Chase says, reassuring her brother.
“Did he say anything before he left?” Harley asked.
“He thinks we’re crazy, that he’s done with hunting.” Sam says.
“Dean Winchester done with hunting? Never thought I’d hear that in my lifetime.” Harley says, “If he’s done hunting he’s probably heading back to the motel or to a bar.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely not like him,” Chase adds. “Sammy, what made him leave? Did he say anything before he left?”
“Just that he was done with hunting. I think he was having a hallucination, but whatever it is, it scared the hell out of him.”
***
Harley was waiting in the boys’ room for Dean to come back while Chase and Sam are out looking for him. Dean enters the room out of breath and terrified.
“Dean! You can’t just disappear like that. Do you have any idea how worried we were? You’re not exactly in the best state of mind right now,” Harley goes off.
“I know, I know,” Dean says. “I just. I’m done with all of this.”
Once she calms down she texts Sam and Chase letting them know Dean was back at the motel.
“You might be done for now, but will you be when we cure you? Because honestly I doubt you will.”
“I don’t know, okay?” Dean exclaims. “How are you so sure you’ll cure me, huh? Cause it doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen!”
“Because I’m not letting you die of some stupid ghost sickness and neither are Chase and Sam. We care too much about you and we will find a way. We have to.”
Dean sighs, sitting himself down on the bed. “Okay.”
“Well that was easier than usual. This ghost sickness must really be getting to ya,” Harley jokes nudging Dean in the side.
Dean laughs slightly, but jumps at the sudden opening of the door. Harley and Dean turn to see Sam and Chase looking at them.
“What the Hell, Dean?” Chase demands, stomping over to him. He flinches slightly, and she softens her movements, but not her expression. “We looked everywhere for you! I was worried sick, Dean.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How did you get here?” Sam asks, worry lacing his tone.
“I ran,” Dean shrugs. “So, what do we do now? I’ve got less than four hours on the clock. I’m gonna die, Sammy.”
“No, Dean. We aren’t going to let that happen.”
“Back?” Dean asks, suddenly looking confused. The three others share a glance.
“Dean, are you okay?” Chase asks, stepping closer.
“No! Stay away from me!” Chase puts her hands up and takes a large step back.
“Dean, it’s okay.”
Harley, still next to Dean on the bed, puts a hand on his shoulder. Dean flinches away and lets out a yell, scrambling back.
“You get out of her! You get out of all of them!”
“Dean, what’s going on, what’re you talking about?” Chase asks, rushing back over to him. Sam and Harley do the same.
Sam shakes Dean by the shoulders, trying to capture his attention. “Dean! Hey, hey, hey. Dean. Dean, c’mon, Dean!”
Dean comes to, it seems, as he takes a few shuddering deep breaths, looking at the three in panic. Harley, Sam, and Chase all exchange worried glances before their attention lands on Dean again.
***
Sam and Chase lean against the Impala as Bobby’s car drives up.
“Howdy, Sam, Chase.” Bobby says as he exits his vehicle.
“Hey, Bobby. Thanks for coming so quick.” Sam says.
“Where's Dean and Harley?”
“Harley’s babysitting Dean,” Chase says.
“So, have his hallucinations started yet then?”
Chase nods. “Few hours ago.”
“How we doing on time?” Bobby asks.
Sam sighs. “We saw the coroner about eight AM, Monday morning, so, uh.”
“Just under two hours,” Chase sighs. “What about you? Find anything?”
“This, uh, encyclopedia of spirits dates back to the Edo period.” Bobby hands Sam a text in Japanese.
“You can read Japanese?” Sam asks, an eyebrow raised in question.
“Kimi ga umareru zutto mae kara dayo,” Bobby answers.
“Guess so, show off,” Sam mutters.
“Samu, kuso. Kono atari de osharena hon o manade iru no wa anata dakede wa arimasen.”
Sam turns to Chase in shock. “Bobby, I can understand. You?”
Chase scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know five languages Sam. Grow up. Is it really that surprising?”
Sam shrugs. “A little, yeah.”
“Anyway,” Bobby interrupts, “this book lists a kind of ghost that could be our guy. It, uh, infects people with fear. It’s called the Buru Buru.”
“Well, does this say how to kill it?” Sam asks.
“Same as usual, burn the remains.”
“So, uh, is there a plan B?” Chase asks, her eyes scanning the text.
“Well, the Buru Buru is a creature of fear. Hell, it is fear. So, the lore says you can kill it with fear.”
“We’re scaring a ghost to death?” Chase asks, her eyebrows raising in question.
“Pretty much.”
“How the hell are we gonna do that?” Sam asks.
***
Dean and Harley are sitting on the bed, watching Gumby on TV. Pokey is lassoed and dragged by a car while Dean scratches his arm.
“Oh, this isn't helping,” Dean quickly switches it off.
“Stop it,” Harley says, referring to his arm.
“Stop what?”
“Scratching.” Harley says as her phone rings, “It’s Sam.” She answers the phone, “Hey, what’s up?”
“We got a plan,” Sam says.
“What is it?”
“Just a really good plan.”
“Sam.”
“We're going to scare the ghost to death.”
“Should I come with y’all?”
“No, someone needs to watch Dean.”
“Got it,” Harley says hanging up.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks.
“They got a plan.”
“What is it?”
“Just a good plan.”
“Are you going with them?”
“No.”
“Good. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re never alone as long as I’m around….Besides you’ve got Sam and Chase. You don’t even really need me.”
“I’ll always need you, sweetheart.” Dean almost whispers.
“I’ll always need you too.” She says resting her head on his shoulder.
***
Chase, Sam, and Bobby arrived at the lumber mill.
“This is a terrible plan,” Bobby mentions.
“Well it’s the only plan we got,” Chase says.
“I know I said, scare the ghost to death but this?” Bobby says, cocking a shotgun.
“Hey, you got a better idea, I'm listening,” Sam says before he and Chase enter the mill.
“Any luck?” Bobby asks over the walkie talkie.
“I don't know what's wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us. It's almost like he's, uh...like he's scared.”
Chase continues forward down the hall, met with no ghosts, resistance, or danger of any kind. She turns back to Sam, confused. “Where the hell is he?”
“So now what?” Bobby’s voice asks.
“I guess we got to make him angry.” Sam says. He walks towards a table covered with Luther’s drawings, and begins to rip them up. The machinery of the mill starts up. “Come on, Luther! Where the hell are you? What are you waiting for?”
“Sam!” Chase shouts, pointing behind Sam. “He’s there!”
***
Dean and Harley hear a bang come from the motel room door. A dog barks and the door comes off its hinges revealing the Sheriff with a gun in hand.
“Sheriff?” Dean says unsure of what’s happening.
“What ‘cha doing?” Harley asks, weary of getting shot.
“Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?” The Sheriff asks.
Harley and Dean notice the blood now visible on his forearm.
“Hey, hey, you're - you're sick. You're sick. You're sick, all right? Just -- just like me, okay? You got to relax.” Dean says.
The Sheriff ignores Dean and punches him in the face. Harley is quick to get between the two men.
“Frank O'Brien was my friend. So he made a mistake. So I didn't bust him. So what? And you're gonna bring me down over that?! No, sir.” The Sheriff attempts to point the gun at Dean, but Harley swats it out of his hand.
A fight breaks out between the Sheriff and Harley while Dean watches too afraid to help. The Sheriff ends the fight, staring into the distance petrified. He starts hyperventilating and slowly backs away.
“Get away from me!” The Sheriff shouts before collapsing.
“Well that was eventful. You know you could have helped Dean.” Harley says tuning around to face the hunter in question. He’s scratching his arm again. “Will you quit it. You’re only gonna make your arm worse.”
A few minutes pass and the damn dog starts barking again. Dean leans down to pick up nothing. That was Harley’s first clue something was wrong. The second was when Dean jumped slightly.
“You – you are not real!” Dean shouts at the air to his right. He clutches his chest in fear. “You are not real.”
“Dean? You okay?” Harley asks, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Why me? Why'd I get infected?” He asks.
Harley walks over to him and shakes him slightly trying to break his trance.
“Whu...?” Dean asks, scooting away from whatever he saw until he was on the floor freaking out.
Harley didn’t know what to do so she took a page out of her previous dog’s book and layed on Dean’s chest attempting to slow down his heart rate. Eventually he’s pulled out of his trance.
“Why are you on my chest?” Dean asks, having no clue what’s going on.
“My dog used to lay on people’s chests to get their heart rates to slow down. I hoped the same principle would apply to humans.”
***
Chase shoots at Luther, but misses, her shots not as precise out of fear of shooting Sam, who is in a close range fight with the ghost.
“Chase!” Sam shouts, “Grab the chains!”
Chase remembers the chains and sees them on the ground near Sam, having been dropped when Chase grabbed her gun. She’d been in charge of keeping track of them.
Chase rushes over, grabbing the spelled chains off the ground. She gets Sam away from the ghost and the two take off, Luther in hot pursuit of them.
Once outside, close enough to Baby for her comfort, she turns suddenly, wrapping the chains around Luther’s neck. Luther struggles, but is unable to do anything at that moment about them. Chase, still holding onto them, gets into the Impala quickly.
“Step on it, Bobby!” Sam shouts.
Bobby slams on the gas pedal and the three watch as Luther is dragged behind the car by the chains. Luther gradually begins to disappear, until he is completely gone. Bobby slows down, pulling off to the side of the road so that Chase can pull in the chain, each of them allowing their breathing to go back to normal.
***
“So you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?” Dean asks skeptically.
“Iron chain,” Sam says.
“Probably helped that it was etched with spellwork,” Chase adds.
“Probably,” Harley laughs.
Chase cracks a smile. “Probably.”
“Hmm, that’s a new one,” Dean hums.
“It’s what he was most afraid of,” Sam says. “Pretty brutal, though.”
“On the upside, I’m still alive,” Dean laughs, “So, uh, go team!”
“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Chase asks.
“Fine.”
“You sure, Dean? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary,” Bobby says.
“I'm fine. You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything.”
“Awwww, he's adorable. I got to get out of here. You guys drive safe,” Bobby says getting in his car.
“You too, Bobby. Hey, thanks,” Sam says as Bobby drives off, “So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean.”
“Oh, besides a cop beating Harley’s ass?” Dean says.
“I was winning,” Harley says, swatting Dean on the arm.
“Seriously, Dean, what did you see?” Chase asks.
“Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me.” Dean answers.
“Right.”
“No, just the usual stuff. Nothing I can’t handle.”
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14 Advice That You Must Listen Before Embarking On Teal Gray Wall Art | Teal Gray Wall Art
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21 Bad Wolf is gravely injured and it’s a blessing that she’s unconscious. Her protective clothing barely covers her, dissolved by the acidic green mystery goo. Blisters are beginning to form wherever skin is exposed. Thankfully, her neck and face remain unscathed so she is recognisable. Davros’ insane minion is standing over his victim spouting words of victory. 💋IBB
22 “Humans are inferior. You are proof that emotions make you weak. It was a tactical error to return. Exterminate!” He raises a weapon and poises to shoot. And then there is a spray of green goo and gelatinous tissue as the hideous mutant creature is annihilated. A figure clad in black kneels and strokes her hair as he apprises her grave condition. He shouts orders at his team and soon Bad Wolf is on a stretcher and being loaded into a black SUV.
23 Nurses and techs are poised to act when she arrives. Bad Wolf is wheeled into a dark, calm room. What looks like a high-tech deep-sea diver’s helmet is fitted onto her head. Oxygen, pain medication, a paralytic, and sleep agent fill her nostrils. Nurses carefully remove her clothing, careful to not do further harm. She will be asleep for hours, if not days, as her body is restored, fully submerged in the blue healing gel.
23 Next to her are tanks occupied by Jack and Jake. “Are they going to make it?” Pete asks. “Jake should be out of the tank by tomorrow morning. Jack has a higher percentage of burns, but will be fine after dermal regeneration. Bad Wolf,” Dr. Smith hesitates. “The next 24 hours will be critical. She is significantly burned.” Pete drops his head into his hands. “Save her doctor. Her family will be devastated if she doesn’t make it.” “Who is she?”
24 Pete lifts his head and stares at the tank where his daughter is suspended behind opaque glass. “I can’t say.” John places his palm on the tank. “Tomorrow I’ll turn the speakers on inside of her helmet. She will need someone to talk to her. To calm her if she regains consciousness.” “Call her Marion.” John nods. “Marion, it’s Dr. Smith. I’m sure you know who I am. I wish I knew who you are.”
25 John sits vigil all night, and in the morning, Jake wakes up. He fights against the sensory deprivation and cool gel, and is pulled out, cleaned off, and put back into bed. “Did you save Bad Wolf?” he asks. “She’s in that tank,” John inclines his head. “Thank God. Jack?” “He’ll be fine in a few days.” Jake closes his eyes. “Bad Wolf is hurt bad?” “Yes. She’s critical.” Jake is wheeled away. John goes to Jack’s tank and talks to him for a while, teasing him about being naked in goo.
26 Pete checks on ‘Marion’ and Jack hourly, but spends the majority of his time speaking to the woman, hand on the glass. John sees tears in Pete’s eyes, but doesn’t say anything. She must be a very special member of the team. A day later, Jack is pulled out, and the painful process of dermal regeneration begins. He’s placed in a soundproof room so the other patients aren’t subjected to his screams.
27 Three days have passed and Marion is still critical. He hasn’t been home since the morning of the ambush. He’s showered, eaten, slept a few hours, but his worry for Marion has moved beyond the standard concern a doctor has for a patient. Pete’s words bounce around his memory. “Save her doctor Her family will be devastated.” He can’t help but think about that kiss that she gave him. She’d been so full of life and her voice had been light even in the face of danger. He won’t let her die.
28 Day four arrives and Marion wakes up screaming. “Let me out! Get me outta here!” John is frozen for a moment, stuck halfway between sleep and wakefulness, but then he jumps into action and releases a held breath when he sees her vitals are stable. He presses a button. “Marion, this is Dr. Smith. Just answer yes or no. Are you in pain?” “Yes.” He presses a button. “Better?” “Yes.” “Do you know where you are?” “Yes.” “Do you remember what happened?” There’s a pause.
29 “Marion?” he repeats. “My team?” “They’re safe.” She whispers a prayer of thanks. “Going to warm up the gel now.“ feels good.” “Now try not to move.” “Ok.” And then she laughs. “It tickles!” “Good tickling or bad tickling?” He tries to distract her from the impending pain. “Oh. Definitely not good. What’s goin’ on?” She whimpers. “Your nerves are waking up. It should pass in moments.” “Doctor, um, do you know who I am? You keep calling me Marion, but that’s not my name.”
30 “Director Tyler says you want to remain anonymous.” “You’re gonna find out, right?” “Yep. Do you want me to bring someone else in?” He can hear her breathing. “I’m someone you know. Well, someone you think you know.” “Can I guess?” “How about 20 questions? It’ll distract me.” He smiles. He likes the way she thinks.
31 “1 Are you tall?” She laughs. “Definitely no.” “Hmmm. 2 Have we spoken in the last week?” “Yes.” “3 Ginger hair?” “No.” “4 Brunette?” “Nope.” “Well that leaves blonde, unless you are albino, but I have never met a female person with albino traits, so I’ll go with blonde and I didn’t waste a question.” She laughs again.
32 “6 Have I been to your home?” “Yes.” “Blimey, didn’t expect that.” “I’m good at disguising myself in plain sight.” “7 Have I ever seen you out of disguise? Well of course I have. You said I’ve met you?” Now she knows it’s only a matter of time before he figures it out “8 Were you in disguise when we met?” “Dr. Smith, you should really be asking which me is in disguise.”
33 “Am I public me? The one you’ve met? Or am I Bad Wolf? You’ve met both of me.” “9 Is Bad Wolf your disguise?” “Now you’re getting warmer. No. Bad Wolf is me. The me I want you to know. Because the thing is, I don’t like playing pretend and dressing up in those posh clothes and pretending to be a party girl who only cares about herself. I care about London. I care about people and resourceful and-”
34 “It’s you!” He grins. “Rose Tyler, you are brilliant!” “Ya got it in ten.” She’s pulled from the healing gel, and Dr. Smith turns away from her naked body, not feeling as detached as her doctor should. She’s cleaned and clothed and he walks alongside of her gurney, holding her hand, as she’s wheeled to the dermal regeneration ward. He whispers words of comfort into her ear and holds her hand.
35 It’s been about a year since John figured it out. It’s the annual Vitex fundraiser. They’re pressed against each other, dancing in sync to a slow, sensual beat. They are in a dark, deserted corner of the dance floor. He draws her hand to his mouth and kisses her scratched knuckle. It’s deja vu. “Don’t suppose you got this cut trimming roses with your mum?” “Sabre toothed tiger came through the rift.”
37 “And this bruise on your neck?” He laves her skin with his tongue, and she mewls into his ear. “Little green alien had a helluva roundhouse.” He grabs her bum and pulls her into him but instead of her usual moan, she squeaks and winces. “Sorry!” “It’s alright, got that bruise when I fell on my bum, but I saved a little boy from the three-eyed lizard man. Kiss it better when we get home?”
38 Davros is gone, there are always new threats, and Bad Wolf carries on. Rose still plays heiress and the handsome Dr. John Smith is part of her disguise. The wedding of the brilliant Doctor and the Vitex Heiress had been quite the event. “Part of the disguise” her mother had insisted. But everyone at Torchwood knows the real story, and they all keep the secret, because the safety of the Earth is at stake. 💖WhoInWhoville
Yessssssssssss!!!!! Thank you so much @whoinwhoville!!!! I loved this whole thing, start to finish!!! Thank you thank you thank you for being such an amazing buddy all month!!!!!!
@dwinboxbuddies
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Autoqualita, Atiwe and WEDS Albino wheel line up from 1988
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Back to Its Roots: The Dockery Ford Lightweight Galaxie
New Post has been published on https://coolcarsnews.com/2020/12/21/back-to-its-roots-the-dockery-ford-lightweight-galaxie/
Back to Its Roots: The Dockery Ford Lightweight Galaxie
As a Ford enthusiast, one of my favorite pastimes has been my father’s stories of yesteryear’s drag cars. Visiting the track throughout my childhood (and even now), he would point out rare cars, or drag cars, that had been around for decades, noting interesting facts and awesome stories about them. It’s no wonder that I grew up to land where I have given my father’s deep love for Ford history – specifically that of Ford drag cars.
My dad, Scott Davies, has owned his own rare Ford for 45 years now. That car is a 1966 Fairlane 427 – or an R-Code car, for those familiar. He bought the factory drag car when he was 19 from the Downing and Ryan team, and has been enjoying it ever since. His best friend, Ed Shanley, is also a diehard enthusiast with his own stable. Most notable, perhaps, is a 1968 GT350 convertible barn find that was located in Passaic, New Jersey, a few years ago. He is in the process of restoring the rare Shelby.
Which leads us to the pair’s latest find. If you didn’t know better, you might think that the shell pictured here is just another washed up classic Ford. But you would be very wrong. Those Ford enthusiasts who have been around for a while might remember the famed Dockery Ford Galaxie of the ’60s.
This particular vehicle dominated the quarter-mile for a long time before it seemingly vanished. Fans of the car have been searching for it for years. A couple of years ago, Davies and Shanley got a hint: the car was literally right under their noses. But before we get to the rescue story, let’s look back at the car’s history.
A “Galaxie Storie”
This 1963 Galaxie Lightweight originally belonged to Bob and Barbara Martin of New Jersey. The pair loved drag racing, and Bob worked at Dockery Ford in Morristown, New Jersey, as a line mechanic. After their wedding in December of 1960, Barbara too began working at Dockery Ford.
Being that the early ‘60s were the era of drag racing’s rise, each of the big three were creating high performance competitors for the 1320. When Dockery Ford offered to help the Martins campaign one of Ford’s new lightweight Galaxies, they were on-board.
Photos courtesy of Charlie Morris
The lightweight Galaxie in question was one of Ford’s “R”-lettered cars, with a 427 cubic inch powerplant and 4-speed transmission from the factory. The body was equipped with fiberglass fenders and inner fenders, a flat fiberglass hood, and fiberglass decklid, as well as aluminum bumpers. There was no heater, radio, arm rests, passenger sun visor, or carpet. Instead, a rubber mat was installed in its place.
The glovebox notice says it all: “This vehicle has been built specially as a lightweight competitive car and includes certain fiberglass and aluminum components. Because of the specialized purpose for which this car has been built and in order to achieve maximum weight reduction, normal quality standards of the Ford Motor Company in terms of exterior panel fit and surface appearance are not met on this vehicle.”
The current state of the glovebox notice.
Each one had specific Kelsey-Hayes steel wheels, 11×3 brakes front and rear (opposed to 2.5 on regular production Galaxies), and no power steering or brakes. Interestingly enough, they did have wipers, which Davies noted is pretty odd. They had operating lights, as they could be driven on the street. They also had a full exhaust system when sold new. It was, in essence, a factory race car with street car characteristics.
Almost every one of the cars was built in Wimbleton White, and was available to only a handful of dealerships. The Martins decided to name the car “The Albino” and outfitted it with red lettering and red headlights. The car would go on to gain the respect of fellow racers, who weren’t keen on going head to head with it.
A copy of the original invoice from Dockery Ford (the copy is blurry, but many of the details can be made out) and copies of several time slips from its time as The Albino.
Once the car belonged to the Martins, it wasn’t long before it made its debut appearance at New Jersey’s Island Dragway in Great Meadows. It was on that very same day that Barbara would become an employee of the track, taking a position in its timing tower.
Just one year later, in 1964, Bob decided it was time to retire from drag racing, and sold the Galaxie. Barb’s racing career continued, however, and she went on to work for NHRA Division 1 and win multiple powder puff derbies. She was also one of the first women to ever hold a full competition NHRA driver’s license.
In my search for the story of the Dockery Galaxie, we spoke with many racers and enthusiasts who knew the car, or the Martins. Ford drag racing legend Charlie Morris, led us to an article done on the car in 1998, and also provided a handful of timeslips from the car’s early days, as well as a copy of the car’s original title. Its best time slip of the group he handed over was a 12.867 at 111.66, however, Morris notes that once Bob switched to 7-inch recap slicks, the car did accomplish times in the range of 12.6 at 117 mph, though he couldn’t locate the slips.
A photo that has stayed with the car since its time as a street-driven Galaxie.
After the Martins sold the Galaxie, it would make its rounds. First, the dealership dismantled the car, removing the original drivetrain, before painting it silver to cover its lettering. It was sold with a 390 cubic inch engine, and the 31-spline rear was replaced with a 28-spline version, before it was put out on the used car lot. Fortunately, the man who bought it knew that it was a lightweight, so he drove it only limited miles. He then sold it to a man who painted it blue, before selling it yet again to a police officer, who made it a project car. He had the intentions of restoring it and took it apart to prepare to paint it. Eventually, he retired and relocated, so he sold the car back to its previous owner. And there it sat for a full decade.
“The car has never been back in lightweight configuration,” Davies said, “until now.”
Finding The Albino
When Davies got a phone call from a friend, Andrew Krassas, who said he might know where a lightweight Galaxie was located, they never guessed it might be the famed Dockery car. Andrew’s father knew the owner, and my father was trying to broker a lightweight for a friend. After some digging, it came to light that the car may in fact be the Dockery drag car. The owner believed it was raced out of a Ford dealership in Morristown, and my father had the sneaking suspicion it might be the famed drag car. My brother, Scott Davies Jr., and Andrew went to see the car, and sent photos of the door jamb VIN sticker to my father.
At Carlisle in June, my father approached Charlie Morris to ask him if his suspicions might be correct. Could this be the Dockery Albino? Charlie told him to call him the following week, and he would give him the car’s VIN number.
During the phone call, Charlie asked if the VIN ended in “630.”
“I said, could it be 631? He told me he would check, and sure enough, it was 631,” Davies said.
The car sat buried under boxes, bins, and rubble until its rescue. This photo and the photo of the VIN were the only ones taken of the car when Davies and Shanley decided to buy it.
We had happened upon the actual Albino.
When the friend that the car had been scouted for dropped out of the deal, Davies and Shanley decided to go in on it together.
Before the sale, Davies and Shanley never actually saw the car. They only saw the photos provided, and knew they had to have it.
The Recovery
The weeks leading up to the recovery of the car were full of the unknown. We weren’t sure that the owner was even going to follow through with the sale, though the pair had left a hefty down payment on it earlier.
The day came, and we all waited around for hours. Could it be that the Galaxie would never be recovered, after all?
Hours after the expected call never came, we drove to the location with three pickups and two trailers and sat down the road. The enclosed trailer awaited the treasured Galaxie, and the open trailer, for the accompanying parts car. And we waited some more.
Finally, we got the call that we were good to go. We drove down to the owner’s shop and proceeded to load the Galaxie into the trailer before literally utilizing a crane and a flatbed to hoist the parts car up onto the other trailer. It was a sight to see. With the car safely in our possession, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. She was home.
The most exciting part of the adventure.
The Grand Plan
Since delivery day, the Galaxie has been brought home to Shanley’s compound in Pennsylvania, and the pair has begun going through the many spare parts included in the sale and figuring out what they still need to locate to restore the car. Yes, that is their intention.
The pair have decided to return the car to its original glory – a recreation of its time as “The Albino.” This means the car will have to be rebuilt and repainted.
“It won’t be a 100-point restoration,” Davies explained. “We just want to restore it and get back on the track for nostalgia racing. A 100-point resto is for someone else to do down the road. It won’t be us. It won’t be a rotisserie car.”
As for the drivetrain, that part is easy. The 427 ci engine in Davies’s Fairlane was originally pulled out of a Galaxie Lightweight, so it will be returned to its proper place – at least for a little while.
It will also be equipped with a Toploader 4-speed transmission, though that isn’t the transmission it was originally equipped with. Ford outfitted it with an aluminum case T-10 transmission, but the lightweight transmission didn’t hold up to the abuse the cars saw on the quarter-mile.
All of the collected spare parts.
“Everyone took them out and threw them away as soon as Toploaders were available,” Davies explained.
The only parts not included in the sale were the front bucket seats (these Galaxies had an all-red interior), and the aluminum front bumper brackets. According to Charlie Morris, the front bucket seats offer a weight savings of 68 pounds over Ford’s bench seats.
So, Davies and Shanley will be on the hunt for the red interior pieces to complete the build.
As far as the aluminum front bumper brackets, according to Davies, most of the front brackets were destroyed because of towing, while the back ones survived, so there are very few original brackets around.
This Galaxie’s time as a drag car is clearly chronicled through the modifications that remain. The inner fenders have been cut out for aftermarket headers, and remnants of its aftermarket ladder bar system exist (the car originally car used a single bar traction system). On this particular car, the Martins tried running them backwards with no success before turning them around, and finally switching to ladder bars. Holes exist where the driveshaft loop was mounted.
While the pair has their work cut out for them, they can’t drag their feet. They have made a bet with a friend that the car will be done by October of 2020 – and while the winnings aren’t huge (a bottle of their favorite liquor) – there is a lot of pride at stake.
“It’s just for bragging rights,” my father explained. “We’re going to pull the 427 out of the Fairlane to put it in the car just to win the bet.”
As for me, I’ve loved watching my dad find a car with a history that he has a passion for. It’ll be an awesome thing to watch their plans come to fruition, and I can’t wait to be on the line with him at Island Dragway on its maiden pass as the revamped drag car it was born to be.
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#Barbara Martin#Bob Martin#Car Features#Dockery#Dockery Ford#drag car#drag racing#Features#Ford#Ford Galaxie#Galaxie#Galaxy#Island Dragway#lightweight#New Jersey#NHRA
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