{"id":2072,"date":"2019-01-10T06:44:52","date_gmt":"2019-01-10T14:44:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/exhaustnotes.us\/blog\/?p=2072"},"modified":"2026-09-10T06:33:25","modified_gmt":"2026-09-10T13:33:25","slug":"california-speed-and-sport-shop","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/exhaustnotes.us\/blog\/index.php\/2019\/01\/10\/california-speed-and-sport-shop\/","title":{"rendered":"California Speed and Sport Shop"},"content":{"rendered":"

Gresh’s post yesterday reminded me of a gig I had when I was a youngster back on the East Coast. \u00a0 This is a blog I did for CSC about 10 years ago, and it seemed like a good follow-on to the Mr. Bray story.\u00a0 Here you go, folks…<\/p>\n

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I\u2019m a workaholic. I\u2019ve been that way ever since I was a teenager. It all started with one of the two best jobs I\u2019ve ever had and a traffic citation (more on that in a minute), and somehow, even though I grew up in New Jersey, California already had its tentacles into me (more on that in a minute, too).<\/p>\n

Let\u2019s get this story started with a dynamite photo I found of Joe Barzda on the Internet a short bit ago\u2026<\/p>\n

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Joe Barzda, my boss at the California Speed and Sport Shop…RIP, Joe, and thanks for all you’ve done for me!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

So who’s Joe Barzda?<\/p>\n

Joe Barzda and his brother Eddie were two of the coolest dudes I\u2019ve ever known, and they both were strong positive influences in my life. The Barzdas ran the California Speed and Sport Shop in New Brunswick, New Jersey. This place was Mecca, the promised land, the holy of holies for teenagers like me back in those days. It was the premier speed shop in the northeastern United States. They were the east coast distributors for all of the big performance brands, and it was cool. Way cool.<\/p>\n

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You have to picture the times\u2026the late 1960s. For many of us, those were our formative years. The muscle car craze in those days was in full tilt. GTOs. Chevelles. The Oldsmobile 442. Roadrunners. The GTX. It was a glorious era, a real hey day for Detroit, back when American automobiles were at the top of the food chain. The muscle car craze was the logical continuation of a hot rod boom that started after World War II, and all of it seemed to emanate from southern California. Anything that had wheels was magical, and anything having to do with California even more so. In my circle of friends from a half century ago (many of whom I still stay in touch with\u2026guys like Pauly Berkuta, Richie Ernst, Bobby Beckley, Ernie Singer, Mike Beltranena, Ralph Voorhees, and more), it all revolved around cars.<\/p>\n

Our lives revolved around cars even before we had cars. We grew up listening to AM radio, with groups like the Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, Ronny and the Daytonas, and others singing about little old ladies from Pasadena, Cobras, GTOs, and little deuce coupes. I\u2019ll bet many of you did, too. Watch American Graffiti<\/em> again. That was us. I feel sorry for kids growing up today…with what passes for music, the lowbrow nature of what’s on TV and in the movies, the abysmal jobs the public school systems are doing, the unhealthy fixation on cell phones and texting…we really had it good when we were kids. But I digress…back to the story…<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The California Speed and Sport Shop in New Brunswick.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

So, one day, I stopped in the California Speed and Sport Shop. The place was beyond cool\u2026mag wheels, big dual pumper Holley carbs, headers and aluminum manifolds, and cams…all with exotic names like Weiand, Iskenderian, Edelbrock, Hedman, Cragar\u2026you get the idea. I\u2019m not sure what got into me, but when one of the crusty old dudes behind the counter asked what I wanted, I asked if they had any openings. I had a dinky little job as a stockboy at W.T. Grant (a department store), and it was boring. I would have worked for free in a place like the California Speed and Sport Shop. The guy who asked if I needed help at the California Speed and Sport Shop? Well, I didn\u2019t know I was talking to royalty, but that guy was none other than Joe Barzda. I filled out an application and left. And I forgot about it. I had no relevant experience, and I couldn\u2019t imagine a place that cool wanting to hire a stockboy like me from a five-and-dime store.<\/p>\n

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A 1965 Pontiac GTO…Richie’s was the same color!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Okay, more background information and let me back up another three years\u2026.Paul Berkuta was my next door neighbor in those days. He\u2019s a cool guy. You know the routine\u2026we were always getting into some kind of trouble or another. It was a grand time and a great place to grow up. Pauly\u2019s cousin Richie lived in New Brunswick, and he was way cooler than either of us. One day, Richie rolled up in a 1965 Pontiac GTO. GTOs were beyond cool back then (and now, too, in my opinion). The GTO was the original muscle car. Literally. When John DeLorean shoved a big block Pontiac motor into a Tempest back in 1964, he single-handedly started the muscle car era. The GTO was the original. It was awesome.<\/p>\n

I was 14, and Richie\u2019s GTO was the most beautiful thing I\u2019d ever seen. He gave me a ride, and when he floored that thing, he floored me, too. I was hooked. If there was one thing I knew with certainty at the age of 14, it was that someday I was going to own a GTO.<\/p>\n

For the next three years, I saved. I scrimped. I found every nickel I could. I spent nothing. I had a little less than half of what I needed when I was old enough to drive to buy a GTO, but that didn\u2019t slow me down. I went to work on my parents, and being the persuasive and annoying little dude I was (some folks would say I still am), I talked my old man into springing for the rest. I bought a GTO. I had reached Nirvana.<\/p>\n

Hmmm. 17 years old. A GTO. You can probably guess where this story is going\u2026<\/p>\n

So, late one night I ran my car through the gears on Route 130. I saw a set of headlights way in the background, but they were so far back I ignored them. For a while. A short while. Then I noticed the lights were bearing down on me. Hmmm\u2026the guy probably wants to run me, I thought. No way he\u2019s gonna beat my GTO. Then he pulled up alongside me and turned on his interior lights. A NJ State Trooper. Yikes. A speeding ticket. My first. Oh, man, I was in trouble. That ticket was tough to explain to my folks, but a 17-year-old kid in a GTO\u2026what would you expect? To say my parents were upset would be an understatement. You\u2019ve probably been through this\u2026lots of promises\u2026I\u2019ll be a good boy\u2026I\u2019ll never speed again\u2026<\/p>\n

Right.<\/p>\n

Exactly one week later, I was stopped at a light on Route 1. Late at night. A guy pulled up next to me in an SS 396 Chevelle. Oh boy. It\u2019s funny how circumstances can focus the mind. I literally forgot everything else. The light changed and we were off. I was smoking that Chevelle, too, feeling like the 17-year-old badass I knew I was, right up until the moment I spotted the cop. He saw us about the same time we saw him. Uh, oh. Racing on the highway. That was a big one\u2026an 8-point ticket with a mandatory court appearance. My folks were about as angry as I\u2019d ever seen them. And right in the middle of one of the worst \u201ccounseling sessions\u201d I\u2019d ever experienced from my old man, the phone rang. It was Joe Barzda at the California Speed and Sport Shop, wanting to know when I could start.<\/p>\n

Now, you gotta picture this. Here I am, one step away from a life of crime, holding a traffic ticket for racing on the highway. My folks were mad as hornets, giving me hell for what was an admittedly boneheaded move. I\u2019m wondering if I should run away or maybe join the Army (which I eventually did a few years later, but that\u2019s another story). My parents were upset with the whole hot rod\/muscle car thing, they were mad at me, and at that precise moment, the phone rings with a job offer to work at a place that\u2019s smack dab in the middle of the whole car craze and performance movement.<\/p>\n

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The man himself…<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I took that job, and it was one of the best breaks I ever had in my life, even though it turned me into a workaholic. I routinely worked 70 hours a week. At first, I put in those hours mostly because I was afraid to go home (my folks stayed mad for a long time about that racing ticket), but I loved the work and the California Speed and Sport Shop experience. It was the coolest place. It was one of the main places in the country for anything having to do with high performance automobiles. One day I looked up and my boss was talking to a guy with an Italian accent who looked vaguely familiar. When I asked Joe who it was, he told me: Mario Andretti. It was just that kind of place.<\/p>\n

All of my friends knew I fell into clover working at the California Speed and Sport Shop. I worked there all through college, and for many years I stopped in to visit whenever I was back in NJ. The Barzdas I worked for are all gone now, but the shop is still there. A very cool place and a very cool job. It was just one of those lucky breaks, and I\u2019ll be the first to admit I\u2019ve had way more than my fair share of those in my life.<\/p>\n

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So there you have it.\u00a0 Gresh wants us to do a series of stories on past jobs, and he keeps hitting me up for stories about the aerospace industry (that’s where I spent most of my working life).\u00a0 Interested?\u00a0 If so, let us know, and we’ll push ahead.<\/p>\n

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