Me and The Cobra
Part I
Around the middle of 1965, I decided that it was time for me to enjoy owning and driving an authentic sports car. The cars that I had owned up to that point had pretty much all been American, including a 1956 Mercury (which I wrecked), 1957 Mercury, 1959 Edsel, 1958ish Renault Dauphine and a 1965 Chevrolet Corvair Corsa. I had lots of information to go through since I subscribed to a bunch of car magazines, so I started combing through them doing some intensive research to decide which one to buy. There were lots on the market, fast ones, good handling ones, expensive ones and some that were really pretty. But, living in a small town in southern Virginia posed a problem. I figured that if I bought a Porsche or Jaguar or anything like that, where would I get the car serviced? I could just imagine the car breaking down and not being able to get it fixed, and the nearest dealer would be some 300 miles away in Richmond or Charlotte or somewhere even further. Then I ran across an article about Shelby American and the Ford Cobra sports car they were selling that was based on an English body from AC Cars in England but had mechanicals from Ford. The car had even won the 1965 World Manufacturer’s Trophy. That’s the one I want, I said!
The best part was that the local Ford dealer was located just a few blocks from my work. What a perfect location if I ever needed service or parts. I could drop it off in the morning, walk to work, walk back at the end of the day and pick it up. And one of my best high school buddies worked at Mitchell-Howell as a salesman. So the next day I went to Mitchell-Howell Ford and went to my friend, Linney Mahon’s office. Linney was happy to see me. It had been several years since high school and we had a lot to talk about. Then I told him that I wanted him to order me a Shelby Cobra sports car. Linney thought I was kidding. But after I assured him that I was not, he got on the phone to find out that the cars were only available from some of Ford’s franchised dealers and Mitchell-Howell was not one of them. However, he did say that he could order the car from Ron’s Ford Sales, the nearest authorized Shelby dealership, in Bristol, Tennessee, and the two dealers would split the commission.
There was a problem though. I wanted the 289 version, but Shelby had stopped making them with the 1965 model. When we tried to place the order, Shelby's representative told us that there were no more 289's to be had, and if I wanted a Cobra, it would have to be the 1966 427 version, so we went ahead and ordered one in blue with black interior. The price was $6,995.
According to the Shelby Registry, these are the details of the transaction: “CSX3146, was originally billed to Shelby American on 6/21/65. Shelby invoice #A 1496, dated 12/14/65, billed Jack Loftus Ford, Inc. (Hinsdale, IL) for the car, but this billing was later cancelled by credit memo. Invoice #A 1667, dated 12/30/65, billed Ron’s Ford Sales (Bristol, TN) for “CSX3146, 427 Cobra - Blue/black” at a cost of $6,145.00 plus freight, $315, for a total of $6,460.00. The car was scheduled for delivery by rail to Mitchell-Howell Ford (Martinsville, VA) to go to the buyer, John W. "Rick" Shultz.”
I intended to take the car with me to Europe in early January, 1966. Shelby normally shipped the cars by rail fright, but that would not get the car from California to Virginia in time for the trip. So I called my contact, the Shelby-American representative in California, Mr. Dante Cardone, and explained the situation. Cardone suggested that Shelby-American could air-freight the car from California to New York's JFK airport, where it could be picked up in plenty of time for the trip. I agreed, and Shelby-American shipped the car to JFK. Once it arrived, Linney and I flew to New York to pick up the car at the airport. We went directly to the airline terminal to ask where the car was. It was pouring down rain at the time. We were told that the car was parked off at the side of the terminal. They gave me the keys and we walked over in the rain to get the car.
When we first saw the car, from a distance it appeared that the top was missing! We had awful visions of the inside being completely filled with water making it all but impossible to drive. But once we got to it, we discovered that, thankfully, Shelby had snapped the tonneau cover in place which covered the seats. Although it was deeply stretched by the falling rain, the interior was still completely dry. We opened the trunk and found the regular top, got it out, removed the tonneau, and “constructed” (if you will) the top properly.
The car had been shipped from sunny California with the tonneau cover snapped in place, but this was New York City in the middle of December, and it was pouring down rain. Thank God it wasn't sleeting or snowing! If you've never tried to put the top on an English sports car from this era, it’s a definite challenge, especially without instructions, in the pouring down rain, in the dark, in the middle of the black tarmac of an airport, without a flashlight, you haven't lived in this lifetime!
After fitting the top onto the car, we started back to Virginia. It was late in the day and all seemed well. However, just a few minutes after entering the New Jersey Turnpike, I began to hear some strange noises coming from the front of the car. Thump ... thump ... thump ... and then CLUNK! All of a sudden, the left front part of the car simply dropped! My heart stopped as I watched in amazement to see the car’s left front wheel go rolling down the highway directly in front of us. It rolled slowly and steadily further and further away as we looked on in horror, and then, down at the bottom of the hill, incredibly, it hit the curb and we watched it bounce up into the air above the grass. I found an exit just ahead, thank heavens, and swerved the car to get onto it.
I could see the wheel, merrily rolling down the hill all by itself, while I we were limping along, following behind it, on three wheels, with the left front disc brake holding up the left front of the car. The New Jersey Turnpike was above me, going off into the distance. The exit ramp was in front of me as I limped along on three wheels, watching this wayward spinning tire bouncing up and down through the grass, up onto the exit ramp, and then down the concrete road, rolling slower and slower until ...
There was a tiny little patch of grass at the end of the exit ramp. I swear, it couldn't have been much more than a yard or two square. A little further away was a service station, ESSO I think. The grass patch was boarded with a curb, and everything around it was solid New Jersey concrete.
I watched as the tire bounded along, right into the middle of the exit ramp. And then it slowed down and spun around about one and a half turns ... and then landed DIRECTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SMALL PATCH OF GRASS!
I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes! There was a service station right in front of me on the corner. I pulled into the station, walked over to the patch of grass, picked up the tire, walked back to the service station and asked them if they could put it back on the car. TIGHTLY! I figured that the spinner holding the wheel on the car hadn't been on tight enough.
I was wrong.
Several hundred miles later, on US 360 south of Richmond, Virginia, at 3:30 in the middle of the night the next morning, we were driving along when I heard this CLINK ... CLINK ... CLINK. The same sound I'd heard before. S....T!, I said, out loud (not directly though to my friend, Linney, who was sound asleep). I said it mostly just to myself, as the spinner hit the pavement followed by a WHIRR ... WHIRR ... WHIRR, as the wheel began spinning off the axle and then, while leaving the car, making this WHUMP sound! Yes, I was on three wheels again!
I carefully slowed the car and steered it to the side of the road, and then walked down the highway to find the wheel, but couldn't find the spinner. There was an all-night diner just back up the road behind us and we walked back to it to decide what to do next. From the phone in the diner (remember, there were no cell phones back then), Linney called the Mitchell-Howell Ford wrecker driver and he said he'd come and get us.
Meanwhile, an 18-wheeler pulled up alongside the car and parked directly in front of it. We started looking for the spinner. Another 18-wheeler pulled up and parked behind us. He offered to help too. Then, a third 18-wheeler pulled up, parking BESIDE me. WOW! I was completely BOXED IN. Protected, so to speak, from God Knows What Else Could Possibly Happen!
One of the truck drivers found the spinner, and we attached the wheel again. We called the Mitchell-Howell wrecker driver to tell him not to come and rescue us, at least not yet. That we'd try to make it back to Martinsville on our own, and that if we needed him, we'd give him a call.
We started again, slowly, limping back to Martinsville. For the next 10 miles, I'd stop and hammer the spinner to make sure it was tight. Then, I'd drive another 20 miles, stop, hammer the spinner to make sure it was on tight. Then, I'd drive another 30 miles, stop, hammer the spinner again to make sure it was on tight.
It was still tight each time I stopped, so we kept going and, finally, at 7:30 the next morning, we got into Martinsville just as the sun was starting to come up. There was some damage to the area around where the wheel had come off, but it wasn't much."
Shelby wanted the entire wheel assembly sent back to them, just so they could figure out what was wrong. They sent a complete new one, under warranty, of course. It was determined that the hub had been improperly machined at the factory and the hub, brake disc and knock-off spinner were replaced under warranty on 1/10/66.
When I went to the DMV in Martinsville to register the car and get my title, the gal at the registry office exclaimed that there was no manufacturer listed for a Shelby, Cobra, or Shelby-American. Mine was the only 427 Cobra in the State of Virginia! To avoid a lot of hassle, I registered the car as a "Ford Cobra" and that made everybody happy.
Part II
A few weeks later it was time to leave for New York and our trip to Europe. I would like to have taken my girlfriend with me but she was under 18 at the time, so Jerry Gibbs, a friend of mine from Bassett, and I started out in the Cobra from Martinsville on a cold and snowy January morning. The snow slowed down soon and we had no trouble heading north on US 360 into Richmond and then on to Washington where we somehow managed to run over a nail. The tire was now losing air at an unacceptable rate and we needed the tire patched. Since the car was fitted with Goodyear Blue Dot tires, I thought finding a Goodyear Service Store would be the best place to get the tire repaired, so we found the closest one in a Washington suburb, and sat down in the waiting room until the tire was repaired.
I looked through the glass doors into the work area and watched as this very large black dude, upwards of at least 275 pounds or more, was taking the wheel off the car. The next step was for him to “break the seal” so the tire could be removed from the magnesium wheel, and I watched him take this huge sledge hammer and swing it toward the tire. But his aim was just a little off and he accidentally grazed the edge of the wheel creating a hairline crack in the wheel. At this point, I didn't know if a small crack in the wheel was serious or not. I decided to call Dante Cardone again, this time to ask him if we should just forget about the crack or if I needed a new wheel. He said it would be dangerous to drive the car with a hairline crack in a magnesium wheel and that I needed to get a replacement wheel (the cost then was $100). The poor guy at Goodyear had to pay for it! I felt so bad about that!
Part II
A few weeks later it was time to leave for New York and our trip to Europe. I would like to have taken my girlfriend with me but she was under 18 at the time, so Jerry Gibbs, a friend of mine from Bassett, and I started out in the Cobra from Martinsville on a cold and snowy January morning. The snow slowed down soon and we had no trouble heading north on US 360 into Richmond and then on to Washington where we somehow managed to run over a nail. The tire was now losing air at an unacceptable rate and we needed the tire patched. Since the car was fitted with Goodyear Blue Dot tires, I thought finding a Goodyear Service Store would be the best place to get the tire repaired, so we found the closest one in a Washington suburb, and sat down in the waiting room until the tire was repaired.
I looked through the glass doors into the work area and watched as this very large black dude, upwards of at least 275 pounds or more, was taking the wheel off the car. The next step was for him to “break the seal” so the tire could be removed from the magnesium wheel, and I watched him take this huge sledge hammer and swing it toward the tire. But his aim was just a little off and he accidentally grazed the edge of the wheel creating a hairline crack in the wheel. At this point, I didn't know if a small crack in the wheel was serious or not. I decided to call Dante Cardone again, this time to ask him if we should just forget about the crack or if I needed a new wheel. He said it would be dangerous to drive the car with a hairline crack in a magnesium wheel and that I needed to get a replacement wheel (the cost then was $100). The poor guy at Goodyear had to pay for it! I felt so bad about that!
The problem was that there was no way Shelby could ship us a replacement wheel before we were scheduled to board the SS United States in New York. So Dante said Shelby would ship me the replacement wheel to the Southampton dock in England, and when it got there, I could drive down from London to pick it up. I had the Goodyear folks put the spare wheel on the car and we continued to New York without a spare tire in the trunk.
When we stowed the car at US Lines, they told us to leave the car and trunk unlocked for the voyage. That was because, they said, the longshoremen were notorious for opening everything possible in the hold and if the trunk was locked, they might break in to see what was inside. Naturally, I figured they would leave everything alone if I locked the trunk, so because I was smuggling two cartons of cigarettes and a fifth of bourbon in the trunk, I figured everything would be OK. Foolish me!
When we got to Southampton, we discovered that the trunk had indeed been broken into. The bottle of bourbon was gone (I’m sure the Longshoremen had a great party with that!), but the cigarettes were still there. Naturally British Customs was there to take a look too, and they were not at all happy about the two cartons of cigarettes that I was apparently trying to smuggle into their country without paying any tax. We nearly got thrown into the slammer! I told them it was just a mistake, paid the duty and they let us go.
It was getting late and we started off on the road toward London. Driving the car in England was a blast. Except at night. Driving a left-hand drive car on the left side of the road took a bit of getting used to. But there was a serious problem at night. The Cobra's low beam headlights. They were aimed, of course, off to the lower right so as to miss oncoming traffic in the US. But when driving in England, on the left side of the road, they were miss-aimed, and the beams went directly into the eyes of oncoming motorists! They were blinded! They'd blink their lights at me, hoping that I would lower my beams - but they were already lowered! Clicking them upward, sent the beams straight up into the darkened sky, especially because of the heavily banked road.
This situation was much too perilous for us to continue, so we stopped at the next town and spent the night. The next day I drove to AC Cars in Thames Ditton, Surry, to have the trunk lid repaired and to have the lights adjusted for British roads. They were unable to match the Guardsmen Blue paint however because it was a Ford color. The original AC colors were British, not American. Meanwhile, all the workers there gathered around the car. It seems they'd never seen one before! AC just shipped the bodies to Shelby-American in California, but nobody had ever brought one of the modified cars back from the States to England until they got a look at my car that day.
A couple of weeks later, the replacement wheel arrived from California. We went to Southampton to pick it up and British Customs wouldn't release it without me paying import duty! But it's an INTEGRAL PART OF THE CAR, I explained. We argued for an hour or so before a supervisor came and they finally let me have the spare wheel for my car!
I had intended to take the car on a driving tour of Europe. However, I found that most of the typical pump gas in England caused predetonation in the 427 engine. With the highest available octane gasoline in England, and some detuning by the folks at AC Cars, the car would run relatively well there. However, I was warned that gasoline on the European mainland was of lower quality and higher octane versions were simply impossible to find. Reluctantly, I left the car at AC Cars for them to fix the damaged deck lid and repaint the trunk as best they could even though the color wouldn't be an exact match.
Our trip back to the States was pretty much uneventful. Driving from New York back to Virginia was nowhere near as much of an ordeal as it had been the first time when the wheel came off, twice. We arrived back in Martinsville without any problems at all. The only modifications I made to the car were to add a fog light and driving light to the front bumper and install a radio under the dash. No changes to the engine or exhaust system. I did take it out with friends on occasion to show off the car’s acceleration. Zero to 60 actually did take only 4 seconds, a remarkable feat at the time. I remember driving the car on some back roads in western North Carolina and waiting much too long before passing another car. What a showoff, I was. Gunning the engine to pass the other car, going uphill much too close to the crest of the hill, and then zipping by and pulling back into the right lane at an absolutely astounding rate, all to the amazement of the car I passed and the passenger who was riding along with me. But what fun it was to show off that marvelous little car!
I really didn't drive the car much, a little over 6000 miles total before I traded it in in 1970. Eight miles to the gallon was one excuse, and even at 28 cents a gallon for ESSO Premium, it was more than I wanted to pay. And trucking along back and forth just to go from home to work and back again, using all that horsepower just didn't make a lot of sense. I did take it to VIR (Virginia International Raceway) near Danville one weekend when they were having an event and got it up to 145 mph on the back straight. When I finished my run, somebody asked me why I didn't go any faster. Honestly, to me it was a bit too scary. The telephone poles were going by much too fast for my taste!
When I would take it to local gymkhanas put on by our sports car club or others in the area, it would just barely beat the Vettes. Then one day a friend showed up in a brand new Lotus 7, and we all were put to shame. It ran rings around everything else at the event. I was amazed. And embarrassed. That was the first time I had ever seen a Lotus go around a circuit, and I was hooked forever.
In 1970, I decided it was time to fulfill my dream of actually having what I considered a true sports car. In March of that year I drove the Cobra down to Jacksonville, NC and talked with a salesman from James Robards’ Sports Car Centre, Ltd. Robards was the nearest Lotus dealer and I ordered from them a beautiful little Lotus Elan in Bermuda Gold. No, not a Lotus 7.
When we stowed the car at US Lines, they told us to leave the car and trunk unlocked for the voyage. That was because, they said, the longshoremen were notorious for opening everything possible in the hold and if the trunk was locked, they might break in to see what was inside. Naturally, I figured they would leave everything alone if I locked the trunk, so because I was smuggling two cartons of cigarettes and a fifth of bourbon in the trunk, I figured everything would be OK. Foolish me!
When we got to Southampton, we discovered that the trunk had indeed been broken into. The bottle of bourbon was gone (I’m sure the Longshoremen had a great party with that!), but the cigarettes were still there. Naturally British Customs was there to take a look too, and they were not at all happy about the two cartons of cigarettes that I was apparently trying to smuggle into their country without paying any tax. We nearly got thrown into the slammer! I told them it was just a mistake, paid the duty and they let us go.
It was getting late and we started off on the road toward London. Driving the car in England was a blast. Except at night. Driving a left-hand drive car on the left side of the road took a bit of getting used to. But there was a serious problem at night. The Cobra's low beam headlights. They were aimed, of course, off to the lower right so as to miss oncoming traffic in the US. But when driving in England, on the left side of the road, they were miss-aimed, and the beams went directly into the eyes of oncoming motorists! They were blinded! They'd blink their lights at me, hoping that I would lower my beams - but they were already lowered! Clicking them upward, sent the beams straight up into the darkened sky, especially because of the heavily banked road.
This situation was much too perilous for us to continue, so we stopped at the next town and spent the night. The next day I drove to AC Cars in Thames Ditton, Surry, to have the trunk lid repaired and to have the lights adjusted for British roads. They were unable to match the Guardsmen Blue paint however because it was a Ford color. The original AC colors were British, not American. Meanwhile, all the workers there gathered around the car. It seems they'd never seen one before! AC just shipped the bodies to Shelby-American in California, but nobody had ever brought one of the modified cars back from the States to England until they got a look at my car that day.
A couple of weeks later, the replacement wheel arrived from California. We went to Southampton to pick it up and British Customs wouldn't release it without me paying import duty! But it's an INTEGRAL PART OF THE CAR, I explained. We argued for an hour or so before a supervisor came and they finally let me have the spare wheel for my car!
I had intended to take the car on a driving tour of Europe. However, I found that most of the typical pump gas in England caused predetonation in the 427 engine. With the highest available octane gasoline in England, and some detuning by the folks at AC Cars, the car would run relatively well there. However, I was warned that gasoline on the European mainland was of lower quality and higher octane versions were simply impossible to find. Reluctantly, I left the car at AC Cars for them to fix the damaged deck lid and repaint the trunk as best they could even though the color wouldn't be an exact match.
Our trip back to the States was pretty much uneventful. Driving from New York back to Virginia was nowhere near as much of an ordeal as it had been the first time when the wheel came off, twice. We arrived back in Martinsville without any problems at all. The only modifications I made to the car were to add a fog light and driving light to the front bumper and install a radio under the dash. No changes to the engine or exhaust system. I did take it out with friends on occasion to show off the car’s acceleration. Zero to 60 actually did take only 4 seconds, a remarkable feat at the time. I remember driving the car on some back roads in western North Carolina and waiting much too long before passing another car. What a showoff, I was. Gunning the engine to pass the other car, going uphill much too close to the crest of the hill, and then zipping by and pulling back into the right lane at an absolutely astounding rate, all to the amazement of the car I passed and the passenger who was riding along with me. But what fun it was to show off that marvelous little car!
I really didn't drive the car much, a little over 6000 miles total before I traded it in in 1970. Eight miles to the gallon was one excuse, and even at 28 cents a gallon for ESSO Premium, it was more than I wanted to pay. And trucking along back and forth just to go from home to work and back again, using all that horsepower just didn't make a lot of sense. I did take it to VIR (Virginia International Raceway) near Danville one weekend when they were having an event and got it up to 145 mph on the back straight. When I finished my run, somebody asked me why I didn't go any faster. Honestly, to me it was a bit too scary. The telephone poles were going by much too fast for my taste!
When I would take it to local gymkhanas put on by our sports car club or others in the area, it would just barely beat the Vettes. Then one day a friend showed up in a brand new Lotus 7, and we all were put to shame. It ran rings around everything else at the event. I was amazed. And embarrassed. That was the first time I had ever seen a Lotus go around a circuit, and I was hooked forever.
In 1970, I decided it was time to fulfill my dream of actually having what I considered a true sports car. In March of that year I drove the Cobra down to Jacksonville, NC and talked with a salesman from James Robards’ Sports Car Centre, Ltd. Robards was the nearest Lotus dealer and I ordered from them a beautiful little Lotus Elan in Bermuda Gold. No, not a Lotus 7.
When I picked up the Lotus, I got nearly all the way back to Martinsville and stopped at a gas station. The tank read 1/4 full, but it was only a 6 or 7 gallon tank, so I figured that the reading must be wrong. I filled up near Eden, NC and when the tank was full, I calculated the reading was right all along. The little Lotus had gotten an incredible 40 miles per gallon on the way back. A lot different from the 8 mpg of the Cobra!
The Elan was much more to my taste than the Cobra. It was everything I wanted in a sports car, it was fun to drive, it got incredible gas mileage, and I began winning my own gymkhanas in that neat little car, even beating my friend who had the Lotus 7 every time!
Update November 24, 2020
I want to give credit for a lot of the history I added here about my Cobra to Ned Scutter, Cobra Registrar for Shelby American Automobile Club (SAAC), who resides now in Vero Beach, Florida. Ned was very helpful in helping me remember that the serial number for my car was CSX-3146 (I couldn't remember if it was 3146 or 3156), but Ned assured me that 3146 was correct. Membership and information in the SAAC costs $50 annually and even though I'd love to pay to become a member, it's just not in the budget during these retirement years. But it's no problem contributing my remembrances about the car to their files in exchange for Ned's wonderful help in letting me know what became of the car after I traded it in for the Lotus.
In 3/70, Shultz traded the 427 for a Lotus Elan at James Robards’ Sports Car Centre, Ltd. (Jacksonville, NC). Later that month, 3146 was purchased by Ronald L. Stafford, of Stafford Performance (Lake Lotawana, MO). Although the Cobra showed only 6,000 miles on it at this time (Shultz confirms that the mileage was accurate), Stafford Performance completely redid the car to what they described as “showroom condition.” Robert Appleby (Springfield, MO) purchased the Cobra for his son, Leon, in 12/70. It was acquired from them in 3/73, showing 22,000 miles, by Bob Rubens (Lockport, IL) at a cost of $7,750. As Rubens recalled, “the engine consumed a quart of oil every 75-100 miles. There was a crude roll bar loop welded between the two frame rails. Fortunately, the loops did not penetrate the bodywork. The roll bar was useless, however, in that it was not tied to the frame fore or aft.” Rubens yanked the center-oiler with low-rise heads and 2x4Vs and replaced it with a Carl Holbrook side-oiler equipped with a Holman and Moody single 4V LeMans-bowl Holley mated to a sidewinder intake. Using 7.5˝ Sunburst wheels and the IL plate “AC 427,” an S/C fiberglass hood scoop and stainless steel side pipes were added to complement the deep Guardsman Blue paint. CSX3146 was exhibited at SAAC-15 (Dearborn, MI) 7/90.
