The coupe was a seedy, lumpy refugee from the Southern California dry lakes and dusty old dragstrips. It had an ancient Cadillac engine and Plexiglas windows, the frame was butchered, the rollcage was a joke and the floorboards were gone—but he just had to have it. It took a lot of talking, but he finally convinced the owner to sell him the car. Hogue then sold his ʼ40 Ford to raise the cash, and his friends thought he was nuts to trade a finished hot rod for a dog of a project car.








