Bold truth: after four decades of chasing horsepower and hairy moments, I’m stepping away from Dirty Stuff because my eyes won’t cooperate anymore at 86, even with a giant 30-inch monitor. This is my last Street Machine column, and I’ve been meaning to do it for a while.
First published in Street Machine’s February 2026 issue.
It’s just over 40 years since I kicked off my Dirty Stuff series for Phil Scott, Street Machine’s fresh editor at the time after ACP bought the magazine. Phil knew I’d been writing a long-running Dirty Wheels column for Wheels, so he invited me aboard.
My inaugural piece appeared in the November-December 1985 issue. I wrote about the morning local tuner Barry Bromhall rolled up in a nearly new Morris 850 Mini and wanted to show me something he’d just done. I, ever the unsuspecting bunny, climbed in and watched a twin-throat 40mm DCOE side-draught Weber poke through the instrument panel where the speedo used to live. Then Barry hammered the accelerator, and the cabin filled with blue flame as the engine backfired. The Weber internals lit up, firing back into me and setting my hair on fire. I even lost my eyebrows. I didn’t speak to Barry for a month after that.
Next, I wrote about an infamous Irishman with an EH Holden Premier whose 179 engine kept propelling the distributor cap off while running. He’d had enough, so, in a bid to exorcise the 'demons,' he walked three times around the EH reciting Hail Marys.
I was tasked with fixing the car, and the root cause turned out to be a hole in the vacuum advance unit of the distributor. The primitive down-draft Stromberg carburetor was running rich, and a small-diameter vacuum line was tapped into the intake manifold just below the carb. Raw fuel traveled down the line into the distributor, ignited, and blew the cap off. He wasn’t cursed after all—just misconnected fuel and vacuum.
We spent plenty of time on a chassis dyno, tuning engines. One memorable session involved a Ford Galaxie with a modified 427: higher compression, a full roller cam kit, a big four-barrel Holley, and Mallory ignition. Just as we were about to wrap, a light high-pitched rattle sounded. I warned the owner we should lift the manifold to check, and there it was: with roller cams, the followers that ride the lobes are paired to prevent a blind spot. In the valley, a link had broken, letting a follower rotate 90 degrees and likely taking out a cam lobe.
There have been thousands of stories like these across forty-plus years of Dirty Stuff. My wife Jan has tolerated my colorful language whenever I misread a screen, and she’s been indispensable for the paperwork, invoices, and keeping my logbook current. Editor Broads has also been supportive, occasionally nudging me when a column was due.
Above all, thank you to the readers. It’s been an incredible four decades writing Dirty Stuff for Street Machine, and it even kept me away from barbecued bandicoot and casseroled kangaroo! But the garage door is closing for good.
