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Ray Brock, who we Hot Rod Magazine types referred to as Raymondo, was our front line display to the dignified world of American business. Along with Wally Parks and Bob Greene, Ray could usually be found in nice dress type pants, some kind of pressed shirt, a tie quite often, and nearly always a sport jacket. The rest of us were backyard riff-raff in Levi’s and T-shirts. Exactly what the business world claimed distance from. For us, that worked just great. We could, and did, shove the others to the front while we could rummage round with the great unwashed masses and scrounge good hot rod building information.

But, Raymond Brock could bolt on a set of coveralls and turn wrenches with the  best, which he did on many an occasion. Which is why he was always welcome in all the hot rod and race car emporiums of America. And which is why we thrust him squarely into the forefront of Hot Rod Magazine’s drive to become the leading automotive enthusiast magazine in the U.S. And which is why Ray Brock won the confidences of the Detroit inner sanctums of automotive engineering offices.

 It went something like this.