Many folks — especially those Maricopans who drive 50 miles and more every day to and from their workplaces — think of their personal transportation as a necessary evil: a relatively expensive way to get from Point A to Point B and back again.
For many others, however, the car is an icon. It’s something to admire, to lust after, to boast about.
For a growing number of Maricopans, the personal car has taken on a value and a significance beyond what its inventors had in mind. A car is just a car, someone said, but a 1957 Chevrolet BelAir — or whatever your favorite ride — is a highly desirable possession that must be kept clean, photographed, properly stored, insured and driven only at special times, if at all.
There are fishing and boating guys, camera guys, beer guys, sports guys, hunting and shooting guys, and there are car guys. It’s a toss up as to which hobby is the most popular, or time-consuming, or costly.
In Maricopa, people who get out after dinner time on Tuesdays pretty much know where the car people congregate: in the Bashas’ parking lot. From about 7 to 9 p.m. the car guys set out a bunch of orange plastic cones, carefully delineating the area of the parking lot that is their exclusive domain. It represents about a quarter of the space set aside for shoppers and their vehicles.
“We used to meet near one of the car-parts stores on John Wayne Parkway, and then near a fast-food outlet, but our presence wasn’t really appreciated,” said John Jorgensen, the Province resident who created what was first called “cruise night.” It’s now known as show night, because the special cars taking part don’t really travel slowly back and forth between fixed points. They’re parked side by side, co-mingled with coolers, picnic baskets, accessories and folding chairs to hold the proud owners, their spouses, friends and other family members.
Jorgensen, a retired auto parts wholesaler from Illinois, who moved to Province almost four years ago, proudly proffers a three-inch-thick photo album containing visual evidence of every one of the 72 vehicles he has purchased, modified or restored since 1960, and then sold. Not engaged in the hobby for profit — or even to break even — Jorgensen claims his main thrill comes with the challenge of each new project. “I’m focused on the job at hand,” he said, “and when it’s done, I can’t wait to get started on the next one.”
His first car was a 1939 Ford coupe with no motor. Admitting that he no longer works on his cars himself, Jorgensen nonetheless beams when he shows off his current acquisition, a red 1998 Corvette with custom leather seats he designed, gull-wing doors, and a hand-painted, stylized “finish-line” checkered flag.
On a typical Tuesday evening, observers will notice that 15 to 20 vehicles — including motorcycles — are parked side by side, forming a display (or “show”) large enough to attract even the more jaded shopper on their way to or from the nearby stores.
In the space reserved for show night, you’ll see vintage cars, funny cars, restored vehicles, modified roadsters and coupes, custom models, hot rods and vehicles of every size, color and price range. A few are for sale, and their owners take advantage of the fact that this is, after all, a place where people shop, and post the vital information on the vehicle’s windshield or rear window. Most of the cars, however, are there as proud possessions, their owners interested only in watching the reactions of their fellow aficionados and curious onlookers. They are there also to exchange stories on how they acquired their cars, what they did to achieve the results, and to discuss the next cruise, parade or other auto event taking place somewhere in Arizona, the Southwest or other parts of the country (check out www.crusinarizona.com for a calendar of car events).
The people who take part in show night are mainly on the far side of 60, with the experience, assets and time needed to indulge in what can be a very expensive hobby. There are a few notable exceptions, however. One of them is Steven Graham, 37, a Philadelphia native and a recent victim of a layoff.
Graham proudly demonstrates the high-tech features in his customized 2007 Dodge Caliber SE, a glistening sunburst-orange crossover with Lamborghini doors and 22-inch rims. The car’s interior features a giant GPS system, a full-size computer and monitor, a smart phone and a huge boom box installed vertically between each side of the back seat. Just what the busy multi-tasking salesman or executive needs: a complete office on wheels, much more stylish than the ones behind glass and brick.
Jorgensen’s Province neighbor and fellow car enthusiast Paul Sachs admits that his attraction to cars is more limited and specialized. “I think I’ve only owned 10 to 15 cars over the years,” the retired jeweler from Rhode Island and New Jersey said.
Less of a hands-on collector, Sachs is typical of the car fans who tend to write checks, rather than wield a wrench. He currently drives his white Cabillista convertible to various car events, including the Tuesday car show at Bashas’. The Cabillista was a fiberglass body produced for about 10 years and offered through Cadillac dealers.
Sachs’ model sits on a Corvette chassis. “About three years ago,” said Jorgensen, “I thought there must be a number of guys who live here who share my interests in cars. So, I put an announcement in the newsletter, inviting Province residents who liked to talk about cars to meet at the community center at 10 o’clock on a Saturday.
“That first weekend, three guys showed up,” he said. Now, there are nearly 30 men — all residents of Province — who gather at what Jorgensen calls “Car Talk” on the second Saturday of every month.
“We talk about our own cars, the ones we owned, the cars we’d like to buy, where to get parts, what car shows and events are coming up, just about anything that is car related,” he said. There are no bylaws, no officers, and no agenda. It was during a Car Talk session when the show night idea was formed.
“We needed an event that wasn’t limited to our residents,” Jorgensen said.
Behind Sachs’ Caballista on a recent Tuesday night, a vehicle that looked like a 1949 Mercury sedan was parked. On closer inspection, however, the turquoise car, on an 80-inch wheelbase with its distinct grille and sun visor, had not fully matured. It was at least a full third smaller than that popular vehicle, made famous in a drag race sequence from “Rebel Without a Cause,” the classic coming-of-age movie starring James Dean and Natalie Wood.
“That movie was my inspiration,” said Ernie Adams, a retired line mechanic and resident of Hidden Valley since 2000, who created the scaled-down Mercury in a steel building near his home. “It took five years, and I made every part except for the engine, drive train (they’re Toyota-made) and the windows,” Adams said. Using only his own drawings and photos of the Mercury, Adams painstakingly formed metal and wooden jigs, and, using 20-gauge steel, pounded, molded and coaxed the metal into a roof, fenders, trunk lid and hood.
He used a heavier gauge of steel to form bumpers, which he then chrome-plated, as well as all of the other “bright” hardware, from door handles to a horn rim, and then attached to a steering wheel made of resin he poured into a wooden mold he made. “I couldn’t find a steering wheel to fit the scale,” he explained.
What motivated Adams to create this vehicle? “My brother, Donald, and I used to love to put together model cars when we were kids,” Adams said, suddenly turning glum. “Donald was the idea man. He thought up the project, and I would carry it out.” Adams, two years younger than Donald, admitted he still misses his brother, who was killed in an auto accident at age 19.
So Adams decided to hew to the Adams brothers’ tradition: building model cars on a smaller scale. The Mercury is only the latest of five “dwarf ” vehicles he has handcrafted. The others include a 1934 Ford coupe, a 1938 Chevrolet, a 1939 Chevrolet and a 1929 Ford two-door sedan. “I think I’ll build just one more car before I’m done,” Adams said. He later left Maricopa to take part in the annual Route 66 cruise that starts in Kingman. “I got a lot of attention,” he said, “but no prizes. They gave out trophies to the best Ford, the best Chevy, the best truck, and so on,” but there didn’t have a category my Mercury would fit into.”
Nevertheless, Adams had no trouble convincing the folks at Arizona’s Department of Motor Vehicles that his Mercury was road-worthy. It’s officially licensed and insured as a dwarf vehicle.
“I think I can rightfully claim the patent on that idea,” Adams said. A native of Hastings, Neb., where he dropped out of high school, Adams moved to the Phoenix area in 1977, where he worked as a mechanic. As far as he knows, Adams said, the folks at Ford are unaware of his gift, or of the car he named “Rebel Rouser.”
“Don’t stand too close,” warned the white-bearded man from the front seat of the yellow roadster with purple seats. His eyes twinkled like Santa Claus’ as the Cobra-head hood ornament on his “funny car” spurted a clear liquid straight at the innocent gawker nearby.
“Oops! Looks like you got venomed!” It quickly became obvious that the “venom” was merely water and that the target was a victim not of snakebite but of a bit of clownery.
That spirit of harmless fun is apparent in every inch of Donald Hoctor’s 1927 Ford Model T roadster, or what he calls his “custom design concept” of that classic car. As admirers inspected the car, Hoctor told how he started this project in 1991 and was not finished yet. “How many cars do you own?” an onlooker asked.
He rubbed his chin whiskers, looked down a moment, and then responded. “I bet I must have around 2,000 cars.” Anticipating gasps of disbelief, he quickly added, “They’re just not assembled yet.” Hoctor explained he is the owner — with his two sons, Michael and Jeff — of Hidden Valley Auto Parts, five miles west of Maricopa. There are enough parts there, he believes, to build 2,000 cars.
A car aficionado’s version of Dr. Frankenstein, Hoctor bolted, welded and screwed together his Model T with much more than Ford components. Such brands as Pontiac, Cadillac, Chevrolet, Rambler, Jeep, Austin and Lincoln contributed everything from the concept car’s steering column and engine to the rear bumper, grille and windshield.
When he isn’t hanging out at the auto parts store or adding new parts and gizmos to his yellow crate, which won him the 2010 first-place trophy in a Bashas’ car show, Hoctor likes to dance.
“My wife, Janet, and I started dancing in 1980,” he said, admitting that this second hobby consumes two to three hours a day, five days a week. “We dance all over the Valley, from Mesa to Gilbert and beyond,” he said. Janet was his only dance partner until osteoarthritis benched her, Hoctor said, “but she’s still there on the sidelines, approving which partner I choose when the music starts.”
And when the music stops, he’s got a great ‘ride’ to take him home.
(A version of this story appeared in the summer issue of InMaricopa The Magazine.)
Photo by Jake Johnson
