We're excited to have you with us as we give you the "Boyd" perspective of the online world of Hot Rodding, Pro Touring and Muscle cars. We hope this story plays a central role in communicating with you by including three insightful sections:
- First, is to keep you in tune with the latest happenings from industry events and shows, previews of projects from the top shops around the globe, product reviews and more.
- Second, is the "Boyd Built" section, this is where we will discuss all things Boyd Built including in-depth information and detailed never-seen-before photos of the hot rods and project vehicles we have built over the years.
- Third, is the input from our readers. We will feature a "Boyd Built" hot rod, or project vehicle that you want to see. And as always, we want to hear any questions or comments you might have.
First, let's Talk about Boyd Coddington Sr.
Before we dig into all the cool stuff, though, I wanted to share a side of my dad that most people never knew. That "Boyd Coddington" is a household name is no stretch. Most people only knew him from T.V.'s Discovery Channel's "American Hot Rod", where he was shown as a legendary hot-rod builder and designer. To me, though, he was just my dad. When I was growing up, I thought every kid had a Cadzilla or Chezoom in his or her garage.
The earliest memory I have of my dad is from around the age of 3. Every morning he would carry me downstairs from our small one-bedroom apartment in Hermosa Beach, and he would tuck me under the hatch of his black '63 split-window Corvette. My mom and I would drive him to Western Gear, where he worked as a machinist apprentice.
Ken Knott, our upstairs neighbor at the time, recently told me the story about how that same '63 Corvette was later stolen. Ken went on to tell me that, by a stroke of luck, my dad was able to recover the 'Vette himself a week later.
Growing up, I would always ask my dad, "why are you so lucky?" He taught me later in life that a person wasn't born lucky, but that people have to create their own luck through hard work and good values. Throughout my life, he would teach me many of life's valuable lessons.
Even at my young age, my dad always took me with him to car shows and the local swap meets. On most weekends, we would drive around L.A. and Orange County to visit the garages and shops of craftsmen like Lil' John Buttera, Jack Robinson, Gary Gripp, Bob Bauder, and Pete Chapouris just to name a few. Together, we would hang out for hours and all I would ask is, "Is time to go home now?" I will never forget that.
One of the first things I learned about dad was how generous he was. One summer evening when I was 10 or so, I, my dad and Vern Luce went to the corner ice cream store. I remember a mother and her two young children in line in front of us. The mom was frantically digging in the bottom of her purse, looking for loose change, just to scrape up enough to pay for their ice cream. My dad stopped her, took some money from his front pocket, handed it to the cashier and paid for their ice cream. That was only the first of many times in my life I would witness my dad's generosity. From a very early age, my dad taught me how to share.
In August 1975, my dad built a '26 Model T that was featured on the cover of the March 1976 issue of Street Rodder. It all seems like a blur after that. In the 25 years that followed, we would watch our dad's hobby move from our garage to a 210,000-square-foot building and grow into a multimillion-dollar business. Our weekend outings, visiting the local shops and going to car shows and swap meets, soon became an elaborate road show with two 60-foot semi trucks crisscrossing the country; endless sales calls, trade shows, and domestic and international business flights.
Our ice cream shop visits were replaced with events where we would witness our dad receiving awards, honors, and being inducted into various automotive halls of fame. Even though our outings became longer, and our conversations started to come more by way of cell phones and e-mails, he always found the time for his family. The life lessons he had shared would never stop.
My dad took pride in his many accomplishments, but there is one accomplishment that made him a truly happy man–his family. Most people don't know this, but as a father of three sons and five grandchildren, dad lived for the accomplishments, joys, and sorrows of his children.
When someone passes, it causes us to take a moment to think about that person and the impact they had on our lives. I have done that a whole lot. I have concluded that life won't be as exciting, our collection of friends won't be as full, and a family resource–someone we can call and "touch base" with, advise us, and just listen–won't be there any more, as it was before dad passed.
Certainly, the legacy he left and the impact he made on our industry is well known and will never be forgotten. Many people might think we have lost a builder, an innovator, and an industry pioneer–and we did. But for the Coddingtons, we lost a father, a grandfather, and a man of great family values, my best friend, and my hero.
This article courtesy of Wild About Cars.