The amazing underdog story of Old Yeller II

By Peter Brock
Jul 6, 2024 | Peter Brock, Max Balchowsky, Old Yeller II | Posted in Features | From the Jan. 2017 issue | Never miss an article

Max Balchowsky’s Hollywood Motors was concealed in a medium-sized, unmarked garage hidden behind a Texaco gas station on a weed-filled, partially vacant lot less than 2 miles from the trashy glitter of Hollywood and Vine. There in the mid-’60s, in self-imposed obscurity, Max and his equally talented wife, Ina, spawned some of California’s fastest and most successful American-engined specials.

Only a few American chassis were built just prior to the Can-Am years, an era best known for the preponderance of front-engined Italian exotics owned and raced by wealthy sportsmen, so Max’s garage-built creations were the wondrous antithesis of the sleek foreigners. The Balchowskys’ less than aesthetically appealing Old Yeller specials became the bane of those who couldn’t understand or even begin to appreciate the unseen brilliance of their engineering.

In the Trenches

I worked for Max during those exciting years, and his pithy philosophy and super-practical approach to any problem forever changed my viewpoints on life, racing and design. Simplicity and low cost were his priorities. “Cheapest is the best” and “Nobody knows anything” were favorite sayings.

His wry appraisals when observing supposed expert tuners in charge of exotic foreign machinery that wasn’t running anywhere near its potential were always hilariously on target. For fun he’d saunter over and innocently ask if he could have their just-drained motor oil or perhaps a set of spark plugs they had just thrown in the trash, knowing that such “used” material was still almost brand new.

Such psychological warfare was best demonstrated by Old Yeller’s purposely crude-looking, Dzus-fastened exterior panels, which hid the innovative concepts that made Balchowsky’s homebuilts so successful.

In a sport rampant with the fear of failure, Max was an apparent risk taker, an iconoclast always experimenting, but in reality he was a coolly calculating designer who never made rash decisions. Even on the weekends he wasn’t road racing, he’d drive his Buick-powered special out to the local drag strips so he could test some new idea with a few passes down the quarter-mile.

He was such a local celebrity that the gates would magically open for no charge when the tower officials saw him approach. They’d announce his name and allow the crusty yellow racer to come directly to the starting line, make a few passes, and then depart to the applause of his fans.

Truth, Lies and Whitewalls

Max never owned a trailer. He was a firm believer that miles driven on the street ensured complete reliability on track. His cars were always driven to the races by a shop assistant, while Max and Ina followed in their matching yellow Buick Riviera.

Upon its arrival, Old Yeller’s relatively quiet side-mounted truck mufflers would be quickly replaced by straight pipes carried in the Riv’s trunk. The car was now ready to race.

Max’s pit equipment consisted of a jack and a small Snap-on toolbox that held the few carefully selected sizes necessary to disassemble and examine any questionable component after practice.