Getting Started
There seem to be plenty of articles, books even, written about how to build Jim-dandy models, and these books and articles are filled with dandy tips and ingenious methods. On the other hand, very little has been written about the problem of getting started on a project. Apparently, as we age, some of us develop an aversion to looking foolish; we fear being seen as impetuous, flighty, even scatter-brained. The very idea of having to admit that we are in any tiny way ‘mistaken’ fills some of us with dread, which is also known as the heebie-jeebies. At a certain age, the dreaded heebie-jeebies are a thing to be avoided at all costs. At the top of the list of things that cause the heebie-jeebies is the prospect of “starting the wrong project”.
The result of this fear are the amazing inventories of un-opened kits that crowd storage spaces of those of us fortunate enough to have places to store things. (This is not to be confused with ‘hoarding’ which, as everyone knows, is an actual pathology and requires professional therapies.). Storing un-opened kits in anticipation of finally committing to building one of them is a requirement of our hobby and should not be confused with the helter-skelter accumulation of kits caused by Spontaneous Kit Acquisition Syndrome, which is a later stage of the equally pernicious Compulsive Show Attendance Syndrome, wherein the sufferer cannot resist attending model shows no matter how distant nor obscure. But that is a story for another day. For now, it is enough to consider what it takes to get a model actually started.
Naturally, opening a sealed kit is a serious business. One must never open sealed kits in a higgily-piggily, undisciplined fashion. Opening kits is an invitation to losing parts and misplacing instruction sheets. When it comes to the huge Pocher kits, we are saved from our more reckless selves by the clever Pocher folk who eschew vacuum wrapped boxes in favor of sealed cartons with removable covers that allow the instruction booklet to be separated from the contents of the box. This clever design allows the booklets to be inspected without jeopardizing the jillions of parts in the carton. Ingenious. Clever. Great idea. Having studied the instruction booklet, having deduced the jillions of parts necessary to complete the kit and the arduous tasks of assembling the jillions of parts, having done, as it were, their ‘homework’ is it any wonder that most folk carefully replace the instruction manual under the colorful cover and go on about their business. Few things in this old world are more guaranteed to cause heebie-jeebies than a Pocher instruction book. Truth be told, it is a wonder that more of them don’t go missing altogether, thrown away in a frantic attempt to save oneself from the heebie-jeebies.
Ironically, this throwing away of the Pocher instruction manual is the single most important stimulus for the would-be model car builder. Once the instruction manual is separated from its kit, good things can happen. The contents of the kit are suddenly reduced to trash, or nearly so. Few things appear more worthless than jillions of parts with no instruction manual. But, of course, we know better. Pocher pieces with no instruction are a treasure trove of good stuff and handy doodads. While it is true that some intrepid souls may try to assemble a Pocher kit without the instruction manual, most of us will be too savvy for that. The experienced among us will know that keeping a jumble of Pocher pieces piled up in open cartons can be a godsend when it comes to inspiration. Few things in this life are so inspiring as a Pocher RR cylinder head. Few things on a workbench can grab one’s imagination as a small pile of cam lobes. Loose wheel spoke nipples can be like cayenne-spiked catnip is to cats. What model builder could resist? Who among us can see an Alfa crankcase next to a Mercedes carburetor and not dream of open-wheeled, roaring mayhem? Let’s face facts: no instruction booklet is the difference between being told what to do and being asked what can be done.
This is a Pocher Alfa spider with a Mercedes straight-eight engine. The design of the car is, well, ‘free-lance’. Sort of a Rat Rod crossed with SteamPunk.
This is a V-16 engine built by Jerry Moore who lives in Germany. It is based on two Mercedes straight-eights, has a scratch-built crankcase and front-drive supercharger.
David Cox