Here's some pics of the finished interior/chassis. The nice thing about kitbashing a Moebius kit, with another Moebius kit? The parts fit pretty good, he. No underside shots. but making the exhaust was pretty easy. I simply cut a couple of flanges from the racing exhaust in the drag kit, and drilled some holes in the centers, to attatch to the pins on the Revell exhaust manifolds. Then shorten the front exhaust pipes a little bit, and voila! I can't find the painted end of the console, and while I do have another one, I'm all out of paint. So, off to the store tomorrow I shall be.
And here's the test fit. Sorry for the lack of better lighting, but I slept through the brightest part of the day.
And, our story continues . . . . .
Kevin saw the lights flashing, two blocks ahead, and then the crossing guards come down as he approached. He hit the brakes. Nuts! Another freight train! Slowly, he exhaled, and put the van in to park. What are you going to do? He'd be here awhile, and there was no point in getting steamed about it. Besides, there was railroad blood somewhere back in the family line. Grandpa's own dad, great grandpa Wilhelm, had been a rail worker back home in Germany. And gramps used to tell him, you had to show a little respect.
"Nothing in this country would run for very long, without the railroads. If those trains stopped, the shelves in the stores would be empty, service stations wouldn't have any gas to sell. Everything depends on those men, and those big trains." Kevin reached for a cigarette. Yeah, he knew it was a bad habit, and he had promised Cindy he'd try and quit.
"You have two little girs who need you to stick around. And I need you too, you know. Besides, think of all the money we'd save." How in the hell do you argue with them, when they hit you right in your soft spot, like that? But, he had promised her. You'll do it tomorrow, he told himself, while he lit his smoke and savored the sweet taste. If he had to be stuck here, alone with his own thoughts, it was the best way he knew to relax while you let your mind wander. What exactly grandma wanted to see him about, was kind of a mystery. Something to do with the car, is all she would say. Kevin reclined back in the somewhat still cold, vinyl covered seat. He shivered a bit. Cripes, I wish dad would spring for some seat covers for this thing. After a moment, he looked down the tracks once again. Still no end in sight to the train. Kevin couldn't help remember the first time he ever got to have a ride, in Joe's car. It was the summer when he was six. and grandpa had just started driving it that spring. Of course, Kevin had seen the car for years, sitting in Joe's driveway. Joe had one side of his double garage set up as his workshop, and always had whatever car he owned parked in the driveway, while he was working in his shop. "Making a mess", is what grandpa always used to call it. Before he got the Satellite, Joe had only ever owned second hand vehicles. Still he always left them outside while he was building stuff. Wasn't going to take any chances, even with a used car. Certainly not with the only new car he ever had. That was the big difference, between grandpa and Joe. While he always spoke warmly of his years with Chrysler, even grandpa wasn't what you would call brand loyal. He and grandma had a ' 62 Rambler station wagon for years, until grandpa traded it in on the ' 70 Galaxie. But Joe, he not only worked for Chrysler, he drove their cars as well. That's why it was such a surprise, the first time Kevin saw the big, shiny green Plymouth sitting under a cover in his granparents garage. He and his mom had just pulled up to the house, and grandpa was putting the lawnmower away.
"Grandpa. what's Joe's car doing here? Did he forget to take it with him?" Karl smiled. The things that come out of a five year olds mouth!
"No Kevin. Joe didn't have any room to store the car, at his daughter's house. He couldn't drive anymore, as it was. So, he asked me to store it for him until he could find a place to keep it. Now, you put the cover back on it. That's Joe's car, not mine". Joe had arthritis in his right leg, quite badly by that time. Kevin remembered him limping on that cane, barely able to walk before he moved away. Johanna, Mrs.Joe as she was known to everbody, had passed away earlier that year, of a sudden heart attack. Joe was lost without her, grandpa told him. And his own health was so bad, since he'd developed diabetes as well. Joe's oldest daughter lived in Phoenix, and she convinced Joe to come live with her and her family. He'd hoped the change of climate would at least help with his arthritis, and I guess it did. For awhile anyway. But it was barely more than a year later, and Joe slid downhill pretty fast. Complications from the diabetes, and probably more than a touch of a broken heart, grandpa would say. He and grandma had just barely made it to Phoenix, and to the hospital before Joe passed. After that grandpa was in mourning, and Kevin remembered even now, how they didn't go visit for awhile after. Then grandpa got a phone call one day, from Joe's daughter. Joe had left the car to him, in his will, and she promised to send him the paperwork along with a sealed letter from her dad.
It was the following summer, after first grade, when he first got to ride in Joe's car. Grandpa had promised to let him cut the grass, one Saturday afternoon. Of course, Karl still had to start the mower for him. Kevin could stand right on top of the thing, with both feet, and he couldn't even budge the cord on that ancient yellow beast of a gas mower. But after only two passes, the engine sputtered and died. Karl looked in the tank. Bone dry.
"Shoot! And I'm out of gas, too. We'll have to go get some. Go tell your grandma we'll be gone for a bit". Kevin ran inside the front door, and told his mom sitting at the kitchen table that he and gramps were going to get gas for the mower. She held up his coat.
"Put your jacket on, if you're going out".
She held it up and looked right at him, with that expression that mothers use to let you know that it isn't a request. Kevin slinked in to the kitchen, and slid his jacket on. Grandma didn't make grandpa wear his jacket, just to go to the gas station! By the time he sprinted back outside, Karl had the other garage door open, and was putting his small jerry can in to the trunk of the Satellite.
"We'll take Joe's car. I just changed the oil, and it needs to run a bit." Kevin stood in wonder for a moment. Joe's car was cool! It had the shifter on the floor, and everything! Karl fired up the motor, and Kevin waited as patiently as a six year old can wait, while his grandpa pulled the car slowly out of the garage, and put the shift lever in park. He opened up the long door, and slid on to the smooth, two tone vinyl seat. Karl opened up the center console, retrieved a pair of sunglasses, and put them on.
"Now, I'm ready. How about you? Are you ready?" Keving grinned and nodded. Karl put the transmission in gear, and backed the rest of the way out of the driveway. And still, Kevin could remember to this day the sweet rumble the exhaust made, when they got to the end of the block, and grandpa gave it a little gas. Even just a little.