8 of Our Automotive Heroes
We spend a lot of time on this site discussing significant figures in automotive history—people like Enzo Ferrari, or the man who designed the Tucker (and the Subaru Brat). We’ve written about the guy from Indiana who invented cruise control and men like Roger Penske and Rick Hendrick, who shaped the motorsports scene as we know it. Andrew Newton has written at length about the East Coast couple who may have invented car collecting.
This week, we decided it was time to get a bit more personal by sharing our automotive heroes. You may know some of the names below, and some may be totally unfamiliar to you, but we picked these people for the impact they’ve had upon us as individuals—as writers, as wrenches, as car nuts in general.
Telling the stories of people who helped make us who we are seemed like a fitting thank you, so read on for a glimpse at those who helped shape us!
The Art Professor Who Truly Cared
I didn’t think that writing about someone who influenced how I look at cars would be so difficult, but here I am admitting just that.
Back when I was an ignorant kid of 20 or 21 years old, I believed I could change my career path and become a car designer. So I took art classes at the school associated with my local museum to begin that process. My favorite and most challenging class was a 3-D design course taught at night by a man who learned from the best minds at the Art Center College of Design. It was hard work, and he was always pushing me, because he knew I wanted to go to a place like Art Center for my education.
He understood, as he was friends with Larry Shinoda when they were Art Center students. I remember he once told my brother (another important person in my life as a car enthusiast) to “keep pushing” me, because he saw my potential. The man truly cared, and I found that was a rare characteristic in art education.
The potential he saw in me never came to fruition, but what’s making this so hard to write is how I’ve shamefully forgotten the name of the man who helped me understand how cars are designed. When I talk about design to anyone, when I write a Vellum Venom, etc. I have him to thank. How could I forget his name?
It took a few minutes, but my now-middle-aged brain finally made the right search query: His name is HJ Bott, and a quick spin on Google tells me he is far more than an adjunct professor I met with every Tuesday and Thursday night. He is a hero in the Houston art scene, and I feel like a damn fool for not googling him sooner. I need to reconnect with this legend, as this video shows his depth of knowledge and compassion.
In this Youtube video (forwarded to the right place) I see his challenges and his ultimate successes in being an artist. I feel it in my soul, as everything I learned from others turned into Vellum Venom … the unique creation of my own for the world of automotive journalism. — Sajeev Mehta
Uncle Gearshift
“You’d better enjoy these—I had to eat a lot of Happy Meals to get them,” he said one Christmas in the early ’80s as he handed me a shopping bag full of Hot Wheels.
Uncle Gary, aka Uncle Gearshift (I coined that nickname when I was about four), cultivated my love of cars and my interest in working on them from a very young age. Once a “Mr. Goodwrench”—a tech at a Chevy dealer and then at Sims Buick in Euclid, Ohio, before he became a firefighter—there wasn’t a mechanical problem he couldn’t solve. His small, detached garage could well have been a professional shop given its assortment of tools and cleanliness.
As I moved from Hot Wheels to slot and RC cars, I’d call to consult him—I lived in Virginia at the time—about how to hop-up and repair my little cars. Once I graduated to the real thing, he was there to help, and didn’t hesitate to give me grief when I took a shortcut or did something that, years ago, he’d learned the hard way not to do.
I didn’t keep up with Gearshift nearly as well as I should have even after I moved back to Ohio, but the last conversation we had before he passed was, fittingly, about cars. I think of him almost every time I turn a wrench. — Eddy Eckart
The Guy with the ’55
Manson! That was his last name. Robert Manson was married to my (slightly) older cousin Midgie back when I was maybe 10. Robert drove a 1955 two-door Chevrolet, painted blue, with a 283-cubic-inch V-8 and a four-speed manual transmission and Cragar S/S wheels. He brought it to my grandmother’s house and took me for a ride. Even then I thought the 283 was a little light-footed, that at least a 327 would be preferable. But the rest of the car was mint. Robert then let it slip that he was selling the ’55, and at a price that was far lower than I expected.
I immediately, and for days hence, hounded my father to help me buy it. I probably had about two percent of the price, and all he had to do was kick in the rest—we’d store it under the magnolia in the front yard until I was, you know, 16. Mom could drive it! You could drive it! We could install a 327 as a father-son project! But no, he wouldn’t come through. I was heartbroken when I heard the ’55 was gone.
“He sold it to buy us a green washer and dryer,” Midgie just texted. “I had just had your cousin Chris.”
Man. I was just 60 years late in submitting my offer. Story. Of. My. Life. — Steven Cole Smith
Grandpa Ferguson
Lots of ways we could go with this one, but for me, I’d have to say it comes back to my grandfather. From the minute I first called him to tell him that I’d gotten a job at Car and Driver back in 2016, he made it his mission to press headlong into cars so that he and I would always have something automotive to discuss when we were together—or over the phone. He’s never short of encouragement or advice, both in the craft of writing and also just in following the things I love.
He’s an engineer by trade, and a damn fine one at that. Although the years before I came around didn’t necessarily overflow with exciting cars, Grandpa had a knack for taking interest in the automobiles he did own. My mom loves to tell the story of how one day, Grandpa came home from work and decided he needed to get a better understanding of the Corvair that he owned. He took the whole thing apart, piece by piece, and then reassembled it in his garage, just to learn.
In my early years, I was fortunate enough to enjoy many road trips with him—to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, then to New York for a whirlwind tour of a few baseball stadiums and a stop in Cooperstown to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame. We could have flown to either place, but I think his enjoyment of the open road made driving the only logical choice. These days, I’m often smiling on longer trips thinking of the time he and I have spent in and around cars together. — Nate Petroelje
Designer, Columnist, Critic
For me, my automotive hero is designer and design critic Robert Cumberford. Robert’s combination of academic erudition and cutthroat straight talk makes him a force in whatever room he enters. The man attended Art Center, was hired by Harley Earl at GM after sending in 100+ sketches at the tender age of 18, and later worked with Holman-Moody on race cars. He even created his own car, the Cumberford Martinique. Most people, however, know him as the pointed and forthright design columnist for Automobile magazine.
That is where I met Robert, at the Detroit auto show in 2014. As a recent hire at Automobile, I walked the halls of Cobo with him for more than an hour, soaking up his every word, hoping that through some sort of intellectual osmosis, I might absorb a scrap of his wisdom. He has always been deeply kind and generous to me.
What strikes me, always, about his approach to criticism is the way he welcomes novelty. For such a traditional and seasoned guy, Robert has an open mind to unique and clever solutions to design and engineering problems. And for decisions that he considers lazy or short-sighted, he is ruthless, biting in his disdain. That comes not from dismissiveness or a sense of superiority, but rather disappointment in what could have been. That combination of knowledge, perspective, and honesty is something I respect a great deal. — Eric Weiner
The Man Who Knew Everything
Harold Pace was a family friend going back long before I was born, before my parents even met. He was a talented photographer, a great writer, mechanically knowledgeable, and an absolute walking encyclopedia when it came to cars. Seriously, the guy knew absolutely everything, especially old race cars (he literally wrote a book on them). I soaked in a ton of car knowledge, which would probably be useless in any profession other than this one, just listening to him talk.
I also wasn’t one of those kids who came out of the womb loving cars, but at seven years old it only took a few minutes in Harold’s Ferrari 330 GT (these were still kind of cheap back in the mid-’90s) to become forever hooked on this hobby. He also showed me how you could actually make a living writing about and playing around with old cars and gave me invaluable advice when I decided to try doing it myself. I wish he were here for me to thank him. — Andrew Newton
A Tale of Two Hot Rodders
My older brother, Brian, had a big influence in my love of cars, as he had a hot-rodded ’67 Camaro and a small-block-swapped Chevy Luv when I was little, so that’s the genesis for me, but everyone’s talk about design has me thinking about Thom Taylor, who I worked with for several years at Hot Rod. Thom has a great way of describing cars and many of his takes on a car’s stance and general lines have stuck with me. I don’t have the eye of a car designer, but I understand a lot more of it after walking though car shows and gleaning some of his wisdom from his critiques of custom ’32 Fords as well as mass-produced, mainstream cars. — Brandan Gillogly
The Professor Who Showed the Way
Hear me out, because the man who opened my eyes to the beauty of writing about cars doesn’t have much of a car connection at all.
Dr. Somerville was one of my professors in college, and in my senior year, I took his Creative Non-Fiction class. I remember every book on the reading list: An account of a wife’s experience in the year following the sudden death of her husband, a travelogue about Antarctica, some tome about a Jesuit priest and mental organization systems that I never finished, a first-hand account of snake-handling churches in Appalachia (you bet I finished that one), a report written almost novel-style by a guy who spent a year alongside the homicide unit of the Baltimore Police Department (David Simon, same guy who produced The Wire), and another “embedded journalist” book about a guy who traveled with European rugby fans. I still own all the books, except that one written by the priest. No offense to priests, but that one couldn’t really compete with snake-handling mountain preachers.
Somerville was a soft-spoken, white-haired graduate of UNC Chapel Hill with a reputation for being a wickedly strict grader of papers (there were several of those in the English department at my school, all fantastic people who cared so, so deeply about language and writing). The class discussions sometimes felt molasses-slow, or obsessively detailed, but Somerville transformed my understanding of what a writer could do, whether the subject was rugby or cultural assimilation or grief: Open up the world in a new way. He broke the dichotomy that to write creatively means to write fiction, and I wouldn’t put the care and time into what I write today if it weren’t for him.
Guess I should probably make sure he reads this … — Grace Houghton
Mine was a couple neighbors that when I was 11 years old let me hang on and finally work on a stock car and go to the races. They could have run me off but they let me get involved and even today we talk and I help them with parts for their street rods.
Next was my father running blocker on my mom who was mad I came home greasy. He said let him go he is learning. He knew my love for cars. While he did not share the same ent he let me feed mine.
Finally my Grest Uncle Frank. Former long time GM engineer who was in the industry before 1920. He taught me much. He would get new cars every year and he would let me play within them. He often was amazed at even at a young age I would find the flaws he missed.
His last car was a 1982 Buick. We went to pick it up and I finally had my license. He handed me the keys sand let me drive it away from the dealer before he drove it. He gave me my first hooks and even bought me a Wankle model to teach me what it was.
I just wish Incas older as he was friends with people like Ed Cole and other GM engineers. He also was friends with Henry Ford. I wish I had asked him more about these guys.
I am in my 30th year in the performance aftermarket this week and all these men were responsible for it.
The hero I’d like to honor here isn’t someone from my past that influenced me in my journeys into hot-rodding or racing or off-roading. He’s a guy who wasn’t even into cars at all until just recently. Jeff – at age 76 – decided he wanted to see what all the hubbub was about and bought his first vehicle that wasn’t either a work truck or family grocery getter. He asked me to take him around to some of my buddies’ shops so he could see what they were building and driving. He did close to a year’s worth of research. He finally located a ’28 all-steel Model A roadster hot rod in Minnesota and had it shipped here. He’s spent almost a year tearing it down and reassembling everything so that he understands it right down to the cotter pins (and he’s made a few improvements to it along the way). Now, at 78, he’s enjoying it nearly every day. He loads his partially disabled wife up and they go for ice cream. Yesterday I met him for coffee and he didn’t bring it, because he has an intermittent starting issue, so he’s putting it up on blocks and going through it wire-by-wire until he finds the problem. He’s like a kid with a new toy at Christmastime, and I’m loving seeing him enjoying this completely new pastime so thoroughly. Right now, Jeff is my automotive hero!
I love this, DUB!
Thanks, man!
Thrilled over this article! I’m the one who got new washer and dryer! Thanks for the memories!
My heroes would have to be Fred Hall and Bruce Morrow of Roanoke, VA. Fred was the owner of an Esso (Exxon) gas station in Roanoke back in the 60s. I can’t believe he would let us teenagers wash our cars and change our oil in his bays. Bruce was his main mechanic and tow-truck operator who showed me the basics of automotive repair and maintenance. I knew I’d made the big time when Bruce let me gap the spark plugs on his race car.
Of course, my grandfather, my father and my uncles had huge influences on my automotive and industrial journeys, but the one individual will always stand out that I was fortunate enough to spend (not enough!) time with was Daniel Sexton Gurney. His experiences with making things go fast led him to be legendary (rightfully so) in the automotive world, and he was gracious in answering my questions about his F1 Gurney Eagle race car. This was in 1986 when he was racing Toyotas and I was with Chevrolet Racing in IMSA GT. He was a fountain of information and provided the insight into what that effort required and why he chose to do it. He was very appreciative of all of the helping hands that saw his vision come to fruition and told me that it’s never wrong to ask for help, and to use my eyes and ears first and my mouth last. He told me to “…never stop learning.” I will cherish that brief time forever.
Charlie Pistante. He was a plumber by trade, raced his ’57 speedster in California SCCA events for many years. His house and workshop located across the back fence from ours and my brother and I welcome anytime to watch, hand tools and learn about early Porsche pushrod and Carrera engines, transaxles for short and long courses. Even follow him (on our bikes) when he drove the couple of blocks onto the Hayward airport via city streets to race an event set up there. The Playboy magazines in his shop were educational as well.
Aase brothers: Dennis, Charlie and Randy. We moved south to Anaheim in ’63. They were in high school like my brother and I (in jr. high). Already into early Porsche and VW scene with property to establish a wrecking/storage yard and workshop. Hot VW’s and 356’s (like our uncle had), then 912s and 911’s after ’66. A proper hands-on education followed. Nothing better than SoCal in the 1960’s.
You left out the Cyclops II from Bob Cumberford and Stan Mott
@Sajeev…I loved the entire piece, but especially the HJ Bott interview! What an incredible man and artist! Thank you very much for sharing…Dr. John
Agreed, he is a fantastic person.
My older brother taught me a lot about cars. He rebuilt a friend of ours 340 demon engine in high school shop class. He was a mechanic for awhile. I learned a lot and he bailed me out a few times when I screwed up. Now he is in rough shape and I work on his car when he needs help Just like the lion king movie. The circle of life
To have your image widely published by your grandson is an honor that cannot be measured – just warmly received in the heart. And to think that after sharing all those experiences dealing with sports, trains, and airplanes, the grandchild follows a career in the automotive world. Where did I go wrong?
Great story Grace. I have some many people who were open about what they liked that someone like me who was into cars probably before I could talk has such a wide variety of likes. Quite a few are when I grow up/old I want to be like them and around cars like them.
A huge thanks to all the writer’s here. This was actually one of my favorite reads, fun and informative as well. So glad i clicked on the straight up headline, hat’s off to that individual also. Each writer hit a home run in their, though short, allotted space. I see ideas for novels to be written by all.
In 1970, I quit my job in a grocery store and went to work at a small Pontiac dealership doing oil changes and preping cars for sale. They had one mechanic named Don Todd and he could repair anything. He taught me to rebuild any component on a car. We did not replace parts, we fixed things. I left there after 11 years and began teaching automotive at a then new vocational school. I taught for 26 years and I often think of all the students that benefitted from his skills.
Wow, Mr. Todd not only taught you life skills (that few have) to help you in your own garage, but he helped prepare you for your career. That’s a proper hero, for sure!
Thank you for your hero worship of 90 year old HJBott.
👍👍