n this industry/hobby, you obviously meet—and ultimately befriend—some really amazing people. In my 30-plus years doing this, let’s just say I’ve formed a second family with such individuals; two who stand out in my mind are the two responsible for the F-100 shown here on the following pages: Alan Johnson and the late George Poteet.

In honor of the wonderful human and hot rod philanthropist that Mr. Poteet was, I asked Alan himself, as well as one of George’s closest friends who just happens to be my editorial mentor, Brian Brennan, to reflect on their relationships with him over the years.

“When asked to sum up my relationship with George in a couple of paragraphs,” Alan began, “I immediately thought, ‘What an impossible task.’ I have been very fortunate to have friends like George as customers. Angie and I have always had friends old enough to be our parents or grandparents since we were teenagers because they were the ones who were into cars like we were. Unfortunately, most of them have been leaving us these past few years. I have enough stories to fill a book, but it is difficult to sum up my relationship with George. He was such an influence and supporter for not only me and my business, but the entire industry—from all the magazines, show organizations, builders, manufacturers, and Bonneville land speed racing.

“There were rarely any business discussions with George; he occasionally asked about any projects I had in the works for him. Our conversations were more about Bonneville, guns, hunting, or other customers’ projects. George would seldom plan a visit to the shop. He enjoyed showing up unannounced to see what was going on. On one specific visit, he came in with renderings on over a dozen projects. We spent time looking at and discussing them, as he wanted to know which ones excited me. There were several that I would have loved to build—but at the end of the visit, ironically, we were not building any of those projects. George got excited seeing another customer’s 1932 five-window going together and it was then decided to build a 1932 sedan that wasn’t on the table an hour prior.

“There were very little instructions from him on the builds we did together. That was both good and bad for me. The ’32 sedan was started with the instructions of ‘black, manual transmission, and no A/C.’ After some time planning this project, I had sent George an email wanting his opinion on my thoughts and ideas, after a few days with no reply I sent it again. After a few more days, I called him and asked if he had looked over the email. George’s reply was ‘NO! I haven’t and don’t plan on looking at it. I have given you all of the opinions I am going to—figure out what you want to do but don’t ask my opinion. I don’t want to see pictures or answer any questions. Build it however you want to build it and I will be happy.’ That was amazing but scary because I had no idea if I was building something that was going to make him happy or not!

“George was always concerned with anyone who built something for him getting good exposure with it. When we were discussing the ’66 Suburban, he wanted to know if it was something I was interested in and stated, ‘It’s just going to be a driver so it’s not going to get any exposure for you and the shop or win any awards … we should build something else.’ My reply was, ‘The award worth winning would be building something that pleased you!’

“Once that truck was finished, George asked Angie and I to go on one of the Goodguys road tours with him in it. He would always take several friends, and Angie had become great friends with his sister, Betty. He only drove the truck for maybe an hour on the first day of the entire trip. George liked to lead the way anytime there was a group of cars and would do so without maps or navigation. I had learned long ago not to correct him if he was going the wrong direction! As soon as he got in the Suburban, he made a wrong turn and we wound up on a dirt road somewhere in Kansas … running 70 mph down a single-lane dirt road with a cloud behind us so no one else could see. We hadn’t gone but a mile and my phone rings. George assumed it was one of the guys who worked for him or his sister calling to tell us we made a wrong turn. He says, ‘Tell those SOBs I know exactly where I am going—we are checking it for rattles and squeaks … I didn’t make a wrong turn!’ I told him it wasn’t any of them calling and we laughed so hard as I asked, ‘Well, did you?!’ He laughed and said, “Yeah, but we are still headed east so not really!’

“George liked to aggravate me about anything that he could possibly get away with. When I delivered the Suburban to him, I was confident it was going to impress him. He had to go back to work that day and told me he would drive it that weekend and call me and let me know what he thought. I didn’t hear from him that weekend, so I gave it a few more days and called him. His answer was, ‘I’m very disappointed.’ My heart sank as I asked what was wrong with it and told him whatever it was I would get it picked up and taken care of the next day. He said, ‘I am just not happy. After spending all the money and waiting as long as I have for it, I am just not happy.’ That threw me off guard even more because it was only a nine-month build. I stated how I thought it was pretty good and couldn’t imagine what could be going on that displeased him. He finally started laughing and said, ‘We can’t find anything wrong with it. Everybody has driven it and it’s the best car I have ever been in. I don’t know if you can keep repeating this quality, but I will keep bringing another build every time you do!’ That truck became his benchmark for me and everyone else building cars for him.