Written By Kenneth Kinder.

Matthew The Mechanic!

Lately, I have been going through some of our photo albums. I was starting to compile a picture history of mine and Janey’s meeting and the end results of this encounter. What I kept running into were many other photo essays, that side-tracked these efforts.

Janey and my daughters, have catalogued some of these albums into the proper time and person framework. So it was very easy, to let my mind wander back through so many enjoyable recollections. I would start exploring first this ones life and then the next. So, I have hopes to do a photo history on some of these characters from time to time. I suppose the best way to accomplish this objective for my web page, is to add photos in the location where the text explains the pictures. This process will allow the slower computers faster load-up time. One subject that kept rearing its’ ugly head, was the large quantity of vehicles that shared our living space. Our second son Matthew, was obsessed from a very early age in collecting, modifying and reselling first bicycles and then motorized transportation.

He was the one, that built bicycles for all members of the family at one time or another. In this picture, Matt built all these bicycles. I have kept a lot of these bicycles, with the intention of using them as the first ride for my grandchildren. This has been realized already with Jessica (my grand-daughter) receiving her first Schwinn. It was also the first bicycle her mother owned. Call it, recycle, bicycle, history or whatever, it works for me and more important, it works for them. They seem to be thrilled to have something that belonged to their parent.

He was also the one, that talked me into helping him take three different wrecked cars cutting, them apart, discarding the damaged parts and either welding or riveting the useable parts together. This car, was used as the limousine, to escort him and his bride from the church to the wedding reception. Also on part of their honeymoon. Notice, the brown and white parts in this photo.

It was a little Honda Civic, or combination of three Civics. When I refer to discarding parts, that was a little misnomer. He would run an add in the paper (parting out) and then make more money on the left over parts than he paid for the car in the first place.

He had his mother in an uproar most of the time with what she called junk around her house. One persons junk is another persons treasure. No! she didn’t buy this logic and neither did the neighbors. I had a hard time dealing with it at times when we started looking like a used car lot. Matt and I just about got disowned one time, when Janey was hosting a wedding rehearsal dinner at our house. It was for her niece and we had about six cars in various degrees of dis-array. The dinner was to be held at 7:00 PM and the tow truck was hauling off the last one at 6:30.

Above Matt and Mike pulling engine and transmission from Datsun PU. There were many times, that the neighbors would complain about the work going on in our garage at late hours during the night. I made him keep the noise down, but I refused to make him close shop just because of the clock. My theory is that a teenager has a lot of energy to burn and it can be channeled into my garage rebuilding cars. Or! in your garage, stealing cars. So when a neighbor complained, “I explained my thinking and most would agree.” At one time we had cars stored in our garage in Sacramento, Matts garage in Rancho Cordova and our place in Grass Valley.

I have pictures of our garage with vehicles in various degrees of completion, on engine stands, on cherry pickers, on block and tackles etc. I even have pictures of Janey posing next to a rebuilt engine. There was a time that Matt was sitting at our breakfast table with my 30/30 carbine in his hand playing around with it. “Janey cautioned him to not play with it because it might be loaded. He, replied, do you think dad would leave ammunition in his Winchester? You must be out of your mind.” He then opened the door next to his chair, leading into the garage and fired off a round right through the door of his Chevy Nova. His eyes got as big as silver

dollars and he threw the gun down, screamed, “I hate guns, don’t know why dad bought me one and really came unglued.” He never expressed his dislike of guns to me or I wouldn’t have got him a saddle carbine. He never cared about hunting; but he did buy several guns later on during his youth. Below, after repairing the bullet hole and priming, the Nova looks much better.

Hunting, wasn’t something that was all consuming for me either. I enjoyed the social aspect much more than the actual hunt. Matthews idea of deer hunting was to throw your rifles in the back of your vehicle, drives as fast as the back roads would allow and hope you don’t hit anything while driving. This driving was much more important than hunting, because his thrills were derived from speeding vehicles and the thrill of the chase.

I recall one Saturday morning around 7:00 AM, I was looking out the rear window of our two story house. I heard this sound of a speeding motorcycle on Folsom blvd. a main highway closely adjacent to our property. I looked up, and there was my baby boy going well over 100 mph. Shortly there-after I heard another speeding vehicle and it was a California Highway Patrolman in fast pursuit of my pride and joy. I went downstairs to tell Janey that her hope for the future would soon be home complaining about the long arm of the law laying traps for his innocent young butt.

Eventually, he did come home and “I ask, where have you been?” He replied, “I have been out riding my Z1R.” This is a very fast cafe racer type motorcycle. “I said, I wish you wouldn’t do that today, because I have this strong feeling that you might get in trouble.” He looked at me in amazement and replied, “I already have.” “I asked what for?” He replied, “for speeding.” I then asked, “how fast were you going?” He said, “120 MPH.” I then asked, “why aren’t you in jail?” His reply went something like this. “Well, the patrolman was young and liked motorcycles. He told me if he owned this bike, he would have a hard time holding it back. He then asked me why I had pulled over and stopped for him? I told him, I might be able to out run you; but I can’t outrun the radios.” The end result of this ticket was, he got cited for going 70+, a fine that didn’t take all his money and left his license and Kawasaki KZ1000 intact.

Matt, had some

difficult times regarding his Z1R Kawasaki and a show truck he was building. The bike was stolen while he was at the state fair in Sacramento. It took a few husky guys to load it into a truck in order to steal this machine. He had it locked with some heavy grade steel cable and chain. It was also at the main entrance, next to the statues of the California state bear. He was certain that in this location, with state police in great numbers that it would be safe. Nothing was ever recovered of this bike and it really had a depressing effect on his spirit.

On another trip to a fair, we discovered one more theft of Matts possessions. This fair, was in Grass Valley at the Nevada County Fair.We had gone there to enjoy the small county fair set in amongst the Pine, Fir, Oak and Cedar trees. It is really a splendid place to relax and visit all the displays on exhibit. Retired general Chuck Yeager, lives nearby and has a display of some type aircraft each year. Big draft horses pulling wagons in competition. Steam engines, chain saws, log splitters etc. are in abundance. So Matt, decided to invite a new girl friend along for the day. We had also invited friends to meet us there and come back to our cabin later for a barbecue.

It was when we got back to the cabin, that Matt, rolled up the overhead sectional garage door and discovered the gear driven supercharger, heads, valvetrains, intake manifold etc. had been stolen off this show quality truck. I didn’t realize anything was missing until Matt took off screaming through the woods. I truly thought he had lost his mind, until I finally corralled him and learned of his loss. It broke my heart to see him go through this all over again. His poor girl friend must have thought she really picked a winner in this guy. Like his motorcycle, nothing was ever recovered.

This theft was the one that took the wind out of his sails. He never displayed the same excitement and energy, in his future endeavors. The pride, he took in working , wheeling and dealing was greatly diminished. Matthew, has so much talent in so many fields; but he doesn’t realize he has these qualities. He was my constant companion when I built our home in the woods. He is a much better mechanic than I will ever be. He just can’t accept the truth in these statements. In another story, I will write about our bonding during the building of our mountain home. That along with our motorcycle outings.

Below, a picture of Matt and me a few years back.