Bean Bandits The Life and Times of Land Speed Racing p 6

An award Arnett deserved but never won was for building his dual flathead, V8-powered, steel, full-fender '29 A sedan which featured a lift off body that could be converted to a dragster in a matter of minutes. The Bandits ran the car as a sedan with the big engine, small engine, or both engines, then slipped the body off and ran it as a dragster in those three combinations. Instead of recognition, the NHRA revised their rules keeping the car from running, and winning, in six classes. "At Pomona, I ran the dragster and it did 127. That was fast for a two engine flathead dragster," recalls Arnett. "This thing won 45 trophies so quick, we couldn't believe it." The sanctioning body couldn't believe it either; they restricted the Bandits to four classes. Arnett resisted saying, "Wait a minute, I went through all this work."
The guys in the Bean Bandits had fun, traveled around and made history until racing became too expensive. By the early 1960's they settled down and raised their families. The club has always been firmly supported by and supportive of its community. During their racing days, the Bean Bandits also sponsored local football and baseball teams. Lately, Arnett visits local schools and colleges to talk about his craft and share his welding secrets. Each time Arnett takes his streamliners to the school, another youngster learns what can be done with hard work and imagination. "They think everything comes out of a factory. They ask, 'How do you form the nose? How do you know how to do it?' I told them to look at a baseball's pattern. If you cut that pattern you can sew a new ball. That's the way you lay it out, and then you weld it, and they you beat it out.'" The students Arnett works with get the invaluable experience of learning about the magic of science. One school ran a program and borrowed Arnett's car. After three months he attended an award ceremony for the scholarship won for the science project centered around the famous yellow car. The kids did thorough research, down to explaining how a blower functions. The Bean Bandits' return to racing started with a discovery of the old rear engine, full bodied dragster parked in a stranger's yard. It had disappeared from their shop and Arnett and his youngest son, Jeff, happened to spot it years later. Arnett restored the car and ran at the antique drags in Carlsbad in 1988. Fifteen of the original 30 Bandits are running two streamliners and trying to recapture records earned by either the elder Arnett or his son, the late Joaquin "Sonny" Arnett, at the dry lakes and Bonneville. Jeff thinks this is particularly important as he's noticed historical articles and videotapes where the Bean Bandits are conspicuous by their absence. While the cars' bodies are new, the engines are the same. Just how many fuel racers can boast of using the same engine since 1953? At El Mirage Arnett proudly showed off his reliable iron block motor. It is the same motor he put in the roadster in 1952 that went 147 without a blower. It is the same motor that turned 153 in a dragster at an early National Hot Rod event, powering the Bean Bandits to a win before 36,000 spectators. Update equipment? Why? "I have never been to the end with these things. I've always got a little more left. So why am I gonna get another engine when I haven't finished this one?" The team's achievements, the strength of their relationships and their lasting memories enrich the Bean Bandit's and their families lives. Jeff Arnett lived with cars all his life, getting tools as toys for Christmas. For him, the club's influence was constant. "There was always Carlos and Andrew and Pat Durant and Mike Nagem and Marco. I liked growing up with those guys around me. It was like having an extended family."
	Emory Cook, Jeff's late uncle, was part of that extended racing family. Married to Arnett's sister, Cook raced with and against Arnett for many years. According to Jeff, he used to pull his hair out trying to figure ways to beat the Bandits. He'd tell his nephew stories about how "My dad would piss him off. 'He comes over to where I'm working and he takes my old spark plugs that I think are no good and then he puts them in his car and blows my doors off.' It used to just twist his nerves." Certainly by 1956, when Cook began making his own racing history, he'd figured a way to overpower his brother-in-law. "The best part is knowing the man," is how Ramirez sums up the ride. "Knowing him and knowing the kind of person he is. And his family. Watching his kids grow up. I'm sorry to say we lost one of them, but it's all part of racing. It hit everybody hard. I thought Joaquin would give it up after that, but he told me, 'I'm gonna keep going, Carlos.' Those things are to be expected, I guess, in this type of business."
In 1992 Arnett was inducted into the Drag Racing Hall of Fame for his innovations and significance to the sport, but from the start his brilliance was questioned. He must have heard 'That won't work!' so many times it sounded like a mantra. Every time he was questioned, he'd have to show folks what he was talking about. Fellow racer Don Rackeman recognized that Arnett's mentality in the sport of automotive racing in the 1950s was far ahead of most of the know-it-alls and equipment manufacturers. Prior to running a race down San Diego way, Rackeman stopped into the Bean Bandit's garage. "His magneto is sitting on the engine like this, at 30 degrees. He said we're running 30 degrees. I said, 'No way.' So we went back that night and put ours at 33 degrees. My partner Lou Baney, wasn't there, but I told him we ran 33 degrees. He said, 'No way. Do you realize where the piston is?' I said, 'I don't care.' Joaquin said it and we did it. He's one very, very bright guy."
The story is true - probably. This is how you get 'facts' from these guys: Someone starts the story, then it fades into another. The raconteur gets corrected by a nearby listener, then starts in on the middle of a completely different story. Empirical evidence? Not exactly. But these guys were having too much fun to take notes. Who knew 45 years ago when they were out there collecting trophies like prizes in crackerjack boxes that some curious reporter would later ask - exactly which race did you win, who did you beat, at what track, with which car, what time, what speed, was it a record?