The whole idea of giving a name to a car probably has something to do with becoming attached to it, right? I’ve had more than a few cars over the years and while I haven’t given names to all of them, they each had personalities of their own and certainly deserved a name as I’d talk to them while pulling their motors or coaxing them by pure will and mere vapors to the gas station lights I could see up ahead. Hey, we’ve all been there, right?A few years ago, I got the hot rod bug and that pang hit me (you know that feeling when you see a car you just know you’re gonna drag home sooner or later?) when I saw a Model T coupe body at Keith Tardel’s shop. I ended up with that body and Keith helped me start collecting parts – which, I have to say, is one of the best things about building a hot rod compared to a custom: you build it from the ground up with exactly the parts you want. And I think that process just naturally attaches you to a hot rod more than other types of car builds – you have to think about each and every inch of the car and make a decision about them or it won’t be a complete, self-powered animal. Pretty neat process to put yourself through and I think everyone should do it at least once.Tim Conder, a great friend and one-man art/design/build wreckin’ ball, is one of the few guys I can talk to about cars and fine art and music and graphic design and what it’s like to grow up in the country with all this stuff swirling around in your head. So, when we started really digging into this Model T, I already had some definite ideas, but he helped me put it all together in a sketch that he whipped up as we talked about it:I’ve always loved the zaniness of Steve Scott’s Uncertain T. The way that body is pitched forward over the engine gives it a “crouch” that I think exaggerates what every hot rod should be full of:We also see eye-to-eye on big motors. Why build a bitchin’ car that can’t scoot? This thing had to romp and we both loved the way old Fuel Altered cars in the late Sixties behaved badly – especially Rich Guasco’s Pure Hell:OK, there’s another element I wanted to work into this car, so bear with me, here. When I moved to San Francisco a few years ago to start this magazine, it only took a few months to feel more at home in this town than any other place I’ve lived. And a few of its most mysterious square blocks are in Chinatown. There’s some sort of toxic allure that seems a little dangerous and its rich history of Tong wars and opium dens and secret societies can still be felt when I walk down Russ Alley or Washington Street (well, maybe it’s the deer antler tea aroma or the salted squid coming from the street vendors, but anyway, it all makes you feel like you’re on some other planet).So, these are the things I wanted to work into this car. And only Tim could look at me and be all, “Oh, HELL yeah!” about it instead of looking at me like I’m off my nut. And then next thing he showed me was this:And this is where it all really started to come together – the stance was perfect, the engine looked like it could barely be contained, the frontrunners laid over like a Fueler and the tall vertical lines of everything above the door sills really reinforced the dramatic angle the whole body was pitched into. To me, this is what a real hot rod should be: raw, dangerous, loud, hard to handle and – above all else – a larger-than-life personality all its own.This was just the beginning…