Say it ain’t so, Joe

    I tend to write like I’m having a conversation with you, the reader. I have described portions of my experiences with you whenever I need to make a point or prove I know something about Ferraris.

 

    But who is Jim Weed? Well, I was born into a middle-class family. Yes, really.

 

    My father, Currie Weed, was a mechanic in the Air Force. He really taught diagnosis and maintenance on the Pratt & Whitney R-4360 radial engine. This 28-cylinder monster had a 4,360 cubic inch displacement and produced 3,500 horsepower.

 

    While stationed at Chanute Air Force Base he taught during the day and ran a gas station at night. Somewhere in his spare time he met my mother, and they married.

 

    I was born in Peoria, Illinois, in 1955. Needless to say, I was born into my mechanical background. After leaving the Air Force, he joined Ford Motor Company, Edsel Division. He wrote the service manual for dealers to use.

 

    After Edsel Division collapsed, he was transferred to the Lincoln-Mercury Division and became a dealer service representative. I grew up on stories of how to analyze problems and how to repair.

 

    It didn’t hurt that I had access to all the Ford produced pamphlets and manuals of Theory and Operation of various automotive systems. Not your typical young reader material.

 

    Detroit was home until 1964 when we moved to Atlanta, Georgia. We bought a home in an up-and-coming area in Stone Mountain, near Tucker, Georgia. The subdivision had few homes but was growing daily.

 

    At the tender age of nine or ten, I was buying Coca-Cola from a distributor, loading up my red wagon with ice and going around to the workmen building homes in our area. It became my after-school job with the responsibilities of filling ice trays and keeping track of inventory.

 

    As the subdivision grew and houses became farther away, I grew with it. I ran my route until there were fewer houses being built.

 

    I also had a horse. A beautiful Arabian gelding that I had to feed and muck. (If you don’t know what mucking is, you will need to find out elsewhere.) The stables were not close; about two miles away. I had to feed every morning and evening.

 

    On raw land, we built the first barn. My dad, another owner who also had a horse and me. From digging post holes to shingles, it was hard work. However, with more horses I could share the duties.

 

        My horse and I after a horse show. The ribbon appears to be a sixth place. 

 

    This was how I grew up. My father was out of town traveling every week and my mother and I kept everything else going. I worked hard and was always busy. This will become a theme for my life.

 

    When I turned sixteen, we were transferred to Richmond, Virginia, and a year later transferred back to Detroit. As a senior in high school, I was not very happy to be back in cold country.

 

    While in Richmond I got my first real job working for J.C. Penney in the stockroom. Service seems to be in my blood. When we moved to Detroit, I again went to J.C. Penney in Ann Arbor and opened their new mall store, also in the stockroom.

 

    I was a senior in school, working full time and decided to learn to fly. Somehow after a year of flying lessons some poor FAA inspector decided this seventeen-year-old kid would not kill himself or take others with him and granted him his pilot license.

 

    I turned eighteen, graduated high school and headed back to Atlanta, where it was warm and I had friends. It was 1974. As we say in Georgia, “I wasn’t born in the South, but I got here as fast as I could!”

 

    It was there I hooked up with an unsavory crowd. I had a hippy van but these kids all owned sports cars. MG Midget and Sprite, a GT6 and Spitfire, I would hang out and help as they worked on their cars.

 

    Yes, you can remove the engine from a Midget without a crane and carry it up to the second floor. You can rebuild it on the kitchen table and wash all the parts with gasoline in the kitchen sink without blowing up the apartment, block, or sewer system. God takes care of children and fools. I’m pretty sure we were in the latter category.

 

    I was going to college. I spent three years doing the two-year plan, but work and food kept getting in the way. No, I did not graduate. I was working for Sears Auto Center when one of the previous characters wanted to use my van to tow a Ferrari from Richmond.

 

    Ferrari? What is a Ferrari? No, you cannot use my van, but you can come with me. This was the beginning of what would ultimately become a lifetime pursuit. But not yet. FAF Motorcars wasn’t hiring, and I was still hungry.

 

    My father pulled strings to get his son a real job. On an assembly line at Ford Motor Company, building 1977 LTDs and Mercury Cougar XR7s. It didn’t take long to realize this was not going to work for me.

 

    Ten-hour nights on the line, eight hours on Saturday. They must have been selling the daylights out of those cars. Every night during lunch I sat with my line buddy, Alan Jackson, and talked about how we would get out of there and do ANYTHING to get off the line and make a better life for ourselves.

 

    I was still towing Ferraris for FAF in my spare time, hoping they would hire me. Alan was playing guitar on his days off. I left the line first. I heard Alan had finally made it out.

 

    Who knew we would both become famous?

 

    I traded the great pay and prestige of being a Ford Motor Company employee for half the pay and an uncertain future. All I knew was these Ferrari cars were a whole lot cooler than the Fords I had been jumping in and out of every night.

 

    At FAF Motorcars, Tucker, Georga, the parts manager, Gerald Roush, hired me. It was a great beginning. Parts are parts, as the famous chicken nugget commercial claimed. Ford or Ferrari, the parts are the same.

 

    Bearings, axles, cylinder heads, valves, pistons, all cars have the same components. The identification was already there. I just had to learn what fit what.

 

    It was an exciting time to be involved. FAF became one of the largest suppliers of Ferrari parts in North America. I could spend seven hours of a nine-hour day on the phone. Talking to customers from all over, solving their problems and supplying exactly what was needed.

 

        Clowning around holding a steering wheel and pretending to hold the shifter.

 

    I also worked closely with our shop mechanics and learned much from watching these masters repair Ferraris that came into the shop and components shipped in from across the country.

 

    In 1981 I left FAF and went to work for Continental Coachworks doing maintenance on Ferrari and other makes in the shop. The 1981 FCA National Meet was held in Asheville, North Carolina. The Best of Show winner was a 275 GTB/4, S/N 10269, owned by Herb Kerr. I had detailed and serviced it for the show. I also transported it to Asheville.

 

        At Continental Coachworks. Dang, I look so young!

 

    The next two class winners were also cars I had prepared. A 250 PF Cabriolet Series I, S/N 0873 GT, owned by Roy Thompson, had carburetors I had rebuilt in addition to other minor details. Also, a 330 GTC, S/N 11113, owned by Rhen Cain, was serviced by me.

 

    When you see photos of that annual meet, all three of those cars in the courtyard were touched by me. I couldn’t have been more proud, but my reputation was a parts guy.

 

        1981 FCA Annual Meet, Asheville, NC. All three cars I worked on.

 

    Lyle Tanner was also at the meet. Shortly thereafter I made the trek to California to sell parts for Lyle Tanner Enterprises. While his operation was smaller than FAF Motorcars it was still one of the major parts sources in America.

 

    I soon was sourcing parts from England from both Graypaul Motors and Maranello Concessionaires. I ordered a box the size of two desks every month. When it arrived, it was like Christmas. As the crate was being unpacked, parts were placed into boxes, pre-invoiced and we would fill up a UPS truck. Often 60% of the parts were pre-sold and shipped the day it cleared customs.

 

    Steve Tillack’s shop was next door. Really there was no door. A wall was built with an opening so his mechanics could come up to the counter to get what they needed. It was here, once again, I worked with some very talented mechanics.

 

    I bought a crashed 250 GTE to part out and a 330 GT theft recovery that needed a rear differential. I would bet to this day that 330 GT still has the GTE rear axle assembly in it.

 

    Tanners didn’t last long and by 1983 I changed jobs again to a place called Trans-Pac Motor Parts. Don Laughton imported Honda parts from Japan and shipped them around the country. Parts is parts. But Laughton also owned Ferraris and soon I had a deal going with the dealer in Newport Beach to buy parts and resell them in the Los Angeles area.

 

        FML ad. Maintaining my connection with the Ferrari Market Letter.

 

    The Ferrari warehouse was in Cypress, California, at the time and I would often drive by to pick up parts for the dealer, my parts, and deliver to customers along the way. Often, I could get parts out to customers quicker than the dealer could even get them.

 

    But California was not for me. After four years it was time to get back to the south. At the 1984 Monterey Historics I met Bob Norwood. He had just purchased a building and was creating a massive service and sales operation in Dallas, Texas. Would I come and run his parts department? Hmmm. Halfway to Atlanta… sure.

 

    The Norwood operation was Texas big. Large showroom, huge service area and a large parts warehouse area. Every exotic in Dallas came to be worked on. It was a challenging time since we dealt with all marques.

 

    Mechanic at the counter: I need a set of head studs for a 1934 Aston Martin. I need a carburetor kit for a Bugatti. I need all the parts necessary to reassemble a 512M engine.

 

    Challenging times and challenging work. I had people chasing parts from obscure sources locally and from across the world. Twelve-hour days were normal.

 

    I also volunteered at Cavanaugh Air Museum working on North American AT-6 and T-28 aircraft in addition to rebuilding several pieces of hangar equipment.

 

    Working with Norwood was a great experience but there were business problems that could not be overcome. They never had a service manager, and I often helped to fill that role. Little did I know at the time it would help later.

 

    My year in Dallas was filled with new experiences and challenges but it was time to get back to Georgia. In 1986 I was re-hired by FAF Motorcars to be assistant service manager. Soon to be the manager.

 

    It was during this time I gained a deeper appreciation of what a Ferrari was and what they are capable of. Driving every car that came into the shop was a dream job. Learning the various differences of each Ferrari, how they feel on the road, and track, is something you never forget.

 

    The challenges of managing mechanics, customers and the cars was very comfortable within the FAF environment. I can say without question, managing eight or nine primadonna mechanics who all think they know more about Ferraris than anyone else is a challenge.

 

    As if my ten-hour days with FAF was not enough, I began to buy and sell Honda cars, repairing and preparing them for sale. Soon, I was fixing cars for friends and neighbors. My drive-in basement soon turned into a working garage.

 

    An hour each night after work turned into all day weekends and burning the midnight oil every night. You may have noticed a theme by now. One job is not enough. Each day has twenty-four hours, and I try to put in twenty-five hours of work.

 

    Working for FAF was, both times, the most fun I’ve ever had working. The high pressure of finding and delivering parts to managing the mechanics and solving service issues was absolutely the best time of my life.

 

    But, by working for someone else I always seemed to be broke. Pay never seemed to match the amount of effort I put into the job. The only way I was going to be comfortable was to work for myself.

 

    I left FAF Motorcars and Ferrari in 1991. I opened a shop called Dr. Hondaa. Clearly by the name I worked on Honda cars. I knew Honda. I had learned the parts from my time at Trans-Pac. I learned diagnostics and repair all my life and from the guidance of many special technicians, I felt my skill level competent enough to provide service and maintenance to the masses.

 

        Dr Hondaa in Tucker, GA. 

 

    As time went on it didn’t hurt to hire several of the very same mechanics from FAF. Dr. Hondaa expanded to also work on Ferraris. As an alternative to the local dealer, I never did enough to take work away from FAF, and later Ferrari of Atlanta, but we were able to keep a small foothold in the Ferrari world.

 

        L-R Joe Batchelor, Andy Antonovici. Jim Weed, Kevin Eby. 246 GT in the background.

 

    While running my business was a large commitment, I still needed to do more. I’ve always felt running your own business is great. You have an asshole for a boss, and you only have to work half a day. Choose any twelve-hour period, 8 am to 8 pm or 12 noon to 12 midnight, you will only work half a day.

 

    I joined the Civil Air Patrol. CAP is an auxiliary of the Air Force and performs 85% of all inland search and rescue in the United States. The squadron I joined, Gwinnett Composite Squadron, was very active in search and rescue (SAR) training, flying the Cessna 172. The training was difficult but rewarding and I participated in several air searches.

 

    Getting back into the cockpit rekindled my love of flying and soon my license was active again. Dr. Hondaa allowed me to purchase an airplane, and I owned a Cessna 172 for about twenty years. I’ve flown all over the east coast, mostly to Michigan and Florida.

 

    Since we were a composite squadron, this meant we had a cadet program. Cadets could join at thirteen and typically time out at eighteen. It was rewarding to see these children come into the program meek and shy and turn into ramrod straight, respectful, and squared-away young men. I became Commander of Cadets.

 

    As I progressed up the ranks, I became a Ground Team Leader and taught many classes on search and took cadets on training exercises in the north Georgia mountains. It was good training as I have been instrumental in finding several small airplane crashes in Georgia. I was once mentioned in an Esquire magazine article called the “The Last Flight of Scott Crossfield.”

 

    Scott Crossfield was the first man to fly twice the speed of sound. As team leader I was first to the site after being directed in by our search aircraft. The volunteer job is not always fun or exciting but necessary for the families.

 

        Somewhere in north Georgia, Civil Air Patrol Ground Team Leader breifing a search.

 

    Dr. Hondaa was good and I had the shop for fifteen years. I worked with some amazing talent, mostly ex-FAF mechanics. Joe Batchelor, Rich Rudiger and Rick Charles are some of the best ever. I worked with and learned from Batchelor and Rudiger for more than forty years. Unfortunately, they are both gone now but for everything I work on, they are always with me.

 

    When I closed the shop in 2007 it was at the top of the market. The Ferrari crash of 1989 had shown me what comes from a large speculation bubble. It was time to sell the building and find some other endeavor in life.

 

    So I became Squadron Commander of Gwinnett Composite Squadron. As if a volunteer organization wasn’t going to take all of my time! I was commander for five years and in 2009 Gwinnett Squadron was the number one squadron and I was the top commander in the nation.

 

        Commander of Gwinnett County Composite Squadron, GA 112. Number one in the nation 2009.

 

    As I was enjoying a little time off after selling Dr. Hondaa, I ran into Gerald Roush at a T. Rutlands event. “Come work for me.” “No.” “No really, come work for me.” “No.” “You can work part-time, come and go as you please, just come work for me.” “OK.” And the rest is history.

 

    So, in 2007 I came to the Ferrari Market Letter. Part-time. For my first year at the FML, I was Commander at CAP and bought some rental houses that kept me busy in my spare time doing repairs and rehab.

 

    The bank wanted to see I had a real job before I could buy one more house, so I worked for the Acura dealer, again in parts. This lasted two years until I could get the loan. The day I closed on the house I quit.

 

    During my time with the Acura dealer, in 2010, Gerald Roush passed away. I helped Chad Ensz, who was editor at the time, pick up the pieces and came back to work part time. We worked until midnight for several weeks to make sure the Ferrari Market Letter did not miss a single deadline.

 

    After leaving Acura, I continued to work part-time with the FML while also rehabbing houses and I added running the fuel truck overnight at the airport AND repairing airplanes for the local flight school. It was often several days before I saw a real bed. Fun times!

 

    In August of 2013 Cathy Roush asked me to come and work full time. In 2016 we purchased the FML from the estate and have continued to uphold Gerald Roush’s legacy.

 

    The Ferrari Market Letter has been a staple in the Ferrari world. For nearly fifty years we have brought news, opinions and market reports to your door every two weeks. Well, not quite.

 

    During Covid our costs rose quickly, and paper was difficult to obtain. The famous yellow cover changed for a while as the supplies of 11 x 17 canary paper became impossible to get. Decisions had to be made. The bi-weekly schedule Gerald originally adhered to is brutal. There is never time for a week off except every five years when the calendar makes a leap.

 

    The logical step was to reduce the number of issues from twenty six per year to twenty four. Twice a month. This provides four breaks each year where we take a week off. It has been nice to have a bit of vacation time.

 

    The Ferrari Market Letter has always been a labor of love. For Gerald it provided a comfortable living. For me it has done the same. Nobody here is getting rich producing a magazine and writing about Ferrari.

 

    An online edition was created in 2002 and has always mirrored the information in the print edition. Same ads, same articles. This is now 2024. In 2025 we will have printed for fifty years. Let’s see…26 issues per year with an average of thirty-two pages times fifty equals…a whole lot of paper!

 

    Kicking or screaming, maybe both, the FML is moving into the digital age. The paper is ceding to a fully online experience. I can hear the calls now. WHAT!?

 

    Gerald embraced this new technology back in 2002. I’m sure he would approve this new direction. We will be able to bring you more content than in the past. Often, articles had to be tailored and there were times when content had to wait for the next issue. This will not be a problem anymore.

 

    The same can be said for the classified ads. Ferrari for sale had to wait until the issue was printed, no more. Ads can go live as soon as they have been vetted. The vetting process has always been a hallmark, and that process will not change. You can be sure if the Ferrari Market Letter advertises a car, it is real.

 

    Since there are no space restrictions, photos can be liberally placed in articles and in classified ads, making the entire experience better.

 

    There are also other features in the works that just cannot be done through a paper medium. I hope you will continue this journey with us as the Ferrari Market Letter begins its next fifty years.

 

    As of December 2025, the last paper copy of the Ferrari Market Letter will be placed in the mail. I will be seventy years old and will have been in the Ferrari world nearly fifty years.

 

    I wasn’t born here, but I got here as fast as I could.

 

        Jim Weed and Luigi Chinetti at the 2024 Cavallino Classic