~ Road Trips ~
Sure enough, Fred gives us a
call the following week and
gives my father Frankie’s’
number. Dad in turn gives it
to me and tells me to give it a
try. It’s no good. The number
is no good, disconnected….
@#$%#&^& aaaannd, Dad
does not have Fred’s number.
Great. But, in this day and
age you can find information
quite easily and soon I have
the correct number, (the one
Dad gave me was one digit
off..) and I’m talking with
Frank Schneider. As we’re
talking he’s telling abut some
of the equipment he still
owns, apparently he hasn’t
sold much of it through the
years. Would he sell any of
the Flathead stuff? “Yeah.”
That’s all we needed to know
and we made a date for the
following weekend. We’d
never been to Flemington, NJ
before but I can tell you this,
it’s beautiful. Just a really
nice area, rolling hills, what
look to be expensive houses,
horses and ponies in well
fenced pastures, lush forests
and the trees were just
turning as we were there.
And in the middle of all this
is Frank Schneiders' old farm,
with plenty of cars and a
couple of barns. We pull in
and try to rouse anyone at
the house, only the dog
comes around. Finally, I look
out through the barnyard and
start hollering, find my way
into one barn and there is
Frankie Schneider bent over
a pile of parts he’s cleaning
up. He looks up at me with
this impish smile, a twinkle
in his eye and we introduce
ourselves. I holler to Dad and
we meet in the next barn
over, sit down and commence
to talk racing. This is how it
goes with many racers we
have met through the years, it’
s a bit of a feeling out
process, after all, these
fellows don’t want the parts
going to someone who is just
going to resell them for profit,
they want us to use them for
the purpose they were built
for – race cars. I ask for a few
autographs and start my tape
recorder, unfortunately it isn’
t to be. Frank is still sharp as
a tack, but a stroke has
removed the connect between
what’s happening in his head
to his tongue. He struggles at
times to answer questions,
and shows frustration in his
inability to do so, I close it
down and quit asking
questions. It’ll come out more
naturally if I just let it be..
and it does. He relates some
really good one liners, here’s
a sample: “It isn’t racing now,
it’s shit!” He related, “I started
racing at age 17 and used to
race 8 times a week. At times
I ran under an assumed
name to stay out of trouble
with NASCAR” (everyone did).
“Everyone knows everything,
with money.” “I let the guys
beat themselves.” “When I was
racing, I did it all myself. Ya
know, and I wanted to beat
ya.” “It was good fun. Race
and then go out and hang out
with the guys.” That was the
gist of it, I could add that he
still knows all the swear
words real well…. Regardless,
Frank was very
accommodating and generous
with his time as we scrounged
for parts. He knew where
many were and took us right
to some camshafts settled in  
the rafters, then over to some
shelves that had intakes, a
set of Edelbrock heads and
the item I was looking for; the
Osiecki Racing heads.
Beautiful. Next to that Dad
pulled out a drawer from a
filing cabinet to find three
more radius tappet
camshafts, and one is wilder
(0.460 lift) than anything I’ve
seen to date. I’d be almost
afraid to use it.. All in all,
great stuff. We settle on a
price and take care of
business then Frankie says
“Come on, follow me.” And we’
re off to Englishtown. The
roads here are wild, basically
single lane and I’ll tell you
this, we had a hard time
keeping up with this 87 year
old man, he flies on these
roads. Up in his barn in
Englishtown are some more
gems we look over and now it’
s time to go look at some
more. This time his wife
Bobby joins us as we head
over to Harry Snyders'
residence. Harry has restored
Frank’s Pinto modified and
has it housed in an enclosed
trailer that is a rolling
museum in tribute to Franks
career. It’s great, the car is
well done, and shows the low
buck ingenuity employed by
Frank, there is a small block
there that was welded back
together by Frank – he got it
from a dealer who had to
destroy it before letting it
go… Photographs and racing
uniforms line the wall of the
trailer, Harry is also very
accommodating in showing us
his memorabilia. After that it’
s off to dinner with Frank and
Bobby, we catch a bite to eat
and then head back to New
York wondering what’s next.
It’s always amazing to me
what one trip leads to and
this one was a duesy…
thanks much to Fred, Frank
and Harry, you made our day.
Dad and Frank Schneider.
In his element.
Frank with his heads and cams.
You try and keep up with him..
With his Sedan.
Frank looks over the interior.
Wonder what happend to the Monkey.
The Pinto.
Frank Schneider.
A small block saved by Frank.
Many Thanks to Harry Snyder.
These are rare.
That's one wild Flathead camshaft..
Road Trip to Frankie Schneider's
Farm, Flemington, NJ
Fall 2010