Discussion Forum - Northstar Chevelle Club

I saw this on another site, thought I would share.

Parts Man VS Parts Boy
(by Gerry Burger, taken from an old issue of Rodders Digest Magazine)

When you’re building a hot rod you need parts—all kinds of parts. New parts. Old parts. New old parts. Aftermarket parts. We get these parts from varied sources, but always there is the one common connection, you get them from…who else? The parts man. (Okay, sometimes a parts person, but by and large still the parts man….let’s go with that, “Parts Man.”)

Now, you wouldn’t think that getting parts would be such a big deal. After all you know what you’re looking for, almost, kinda-sorta. So you jump into your car and drive to your favorite parts house, which isn’t where the parts man lives, it’s where he works….see? It’s tricky already.
Take a sample with you if you can, so matching the part will be easier. If you don’t have an exact example of what you need bring something vaguely similar. Wrap it in a red shop rag so you look like you know what you’re doing. Leave an appropriate amount of dirt on your hands.
Everybody worth their salt carries parts in red shop rags. The rag acts as a barrier between carrier and part, while providing a cloak for the part. Leave a portion of the part protruding so the other guys who have parts wrapped in red shop rags can look over and try to guess what part you brought in….this is kind of an adult version of show but don’t tell.
Okay, walk in, pull up one of the plastic covered stools at the counter and clunk your cloaked part on the counter. Aimlessly roll the part around, lift the red rag up and look in there, like the part may have disappeared—or possibly repaired itself—while you were rolling it around. At this point one of the parts men has looked up over the catalogue rack at your red-rag-covered part, sized it up and looked back to his catalogue without a word. Now to the uninitiated this may seem like a snub, a form of impolite neglect by the parts man. Not so, rookie, he just let you know he saw you and your red rag, and has made a mental note that you are to be waited on right after the rotund gentleman in the blue work uniform. No words needed…continue to roll your part, glance over at the others, feel free to stroll an aisle. You’re on the list.

Now, behind the counter there are always at least two people. One has six phones hangin’ from or being pressed to various parts of his head. On three of these phones are warehouses searching for needed parts. On the other two or three lines are customers describing the parts they are rolling around on their work benches. His conversation goes something like this. “Okay, you have the bearing kit for the 1970 454, .010 over, ship it for Tuesday…Now sir what year was your Toyota built, I’m showing two belts for that, one for cars built after March of ’91, check your door plate…Yes I’ll hold; great, send the outshaft overnight” And so on. Now that’s the guy you want, he knows his stuff, and has seen every part in the world twice. He knows part numbers, sizes, shapes and makes. He used to drag race a C/Gasser and knows cars. He is Parts Man. (No, he doesn’t wear a cape or have a big “P” on his chest)
Next to him is a “less experienced” parts man (for lack of a better term we shall refer to him as “Parts Boy”) who steps up and says, “Can I help you?” The ritual has officially begun. “Yeah, I need a set of motor mounts for a 1966 Pontiac 421.” I offer. Now experience has told you what the next question will be…”What kind of car? With or without air? Power windows? Digital dash?” asks the parts boy. “Dunno” I respond. “Dunno?” he says. “That’s right, dunno, could be a Grand Prix, Catalina, and full-size Pontiac with any combination of options would use the same mount,” I add. “What kind of car is the motor in now?” he asks, with a completely befuddled look. “Well, it’s not, but it’s going into a 1955 Pontiac…” before I can finish he says he doesn’t have a listing for that engine with air in a ’55. “I know, I’m putting the motor in the car myself.” “Yourself, how do you know these mounts will work?” he queries. “Well, I’m fabricating mounts…” It’s time to disrobe the part. The red rag folds open to expose the required motor mount. The phone rings so the Parts Boy is on the phone and I’m standing there with my part in clear view. This is at least uncomfortable. All the other parts holders are now gazing at my motor mount giving varying degrees of nods and looks.

In every parts store there is a third important party, the Hanger-On. You know the guy, he hangs around the parts house and drinks Coke for a living. I’m not sure what you have to do to secure this position, (besides wear a dirty ball cap) but most good auto parts stores have a minimum of one hanger-on for each three counter men. At this point Hanger-On strolls over and Yikes!...picks up my part! I almost throw the red rag, a foul has been committed. No one but the parts bearer and Parts Man are to touch the part. Well, he’s got it in his hand, why make a scene…he rolls it around and looks at it for what seems like a long time. At this point I figure this guy is going to tell me something I don’t know about motor mounts, like maybe it would interchange with a 1947 Kaiser-Frazer, but no, this is what I get from him; “Yep, that’s a motor mount alright!” Well noooo ….!

At last “Parts Boy” is off the phone. He finds a number for motor mounts and lo and behold has one on the shelf. We open the box and it is the same. I now have some degree of respect because the part is exactly what I said it was. We take the time to roll the old and the new parts around and comment on just how exactly the same they are, exchanging phrases like, “That oughta do it.” “Yep, that’s the one.” “It doesn’t come any closer than that.” Even the other parts holders chime in about the sameness of the parts; the new part goes back in the box, the old one is re-wrapped in red. “What else can I get you?” asks Parts Boy smugly.
“Okay, this should be easier, I need a tranny mount for a Muncie four-speed. Any GM car with a four-speed, mid-sixties to mid-seventies should work,” is my response. “What kind of car? Air? Power Steering?” Parts Boy asks without missing a beat. “Dunno” I respond. “Dunno?” he responds. “Nope, dunno. I bought it from the same guy who had the engine, no idea what kind of car it came out of.” I offer almost patiently. At this point the phone rings once more, and Hanger-On makes his move behind the counter, where he secretly would love to be all the time. In an act that would make Alexander Haig proud he commands, “I’ll look it up for ya!” He dives into the big books mumbling makes, models, and numbers and occasionally barking things out like “How about a ’69 Camaro?” “Yeah that’d work,” I say with little hope. Parts Boy is off the phone, disappears into the back and comes out with a mount I’ve never seen. I mention that it looks something like that but without these three tabs and it has two holes in the insulator block instead of one stud. Hanger-On looks over and says, “How about ’70 GTO?” “Yeah,” I mumble. Then Parts Boy says the magic words: “Hey, how about coming in the back and looking at mounts until you find one that’ll work.” Bingo, great, super, as I’m walking down the aisle to the promised land (I’m in the back! The supreme vote of confidence!) Hanger-On shouts out “How about a Dodge Dart?” I turn and let a “Don’t think so” fly. In about five minutes we open fifteen boxes when I find what appears to be a GM four-speed tranny block. As I’m walking out front the guy with six phones is finally off all of them. Parts Man looks at the mount and says, “Putting a four-speed in something?” “Yeah buddy” I smile.

We look up the part backwards, part number to find application. Sure enough it fits any GM four-speed 1902-1995. We exchange the “That-oughta-do-its” one more time, ask self-answering questions like “Hey, have we got the stuff or what?” and just generally have a round of verbal back slapping to complete the parts purchasing ceremony and then I’m outa there.

It’s a good day, I’ve got the parts I need to put the engine in the ’55. I know that the parts house is in good hands; someday Parts Boy will become Parts Man, Parts Man will move to the corner office, and Hanger-On will still be looking for a four-speed tranny mount. All is right with the world.