What’s your definition of a tomboy? The Free Dictionary defines the term as “a girl who behaves in a way that is perceived to be stereotypically boyish.”  Wikipedia’s definition also falls along gender lines, “a girl who exhibits characteristics or behaviors considered typical of a boy.”

Sarah Hoffman of Austin, Texas, describes herself as a tomboy, but after meeting her in Pueblo, Colorado, at the NSRA Colorado Nationals event, we beg to differ. She was standing next to a 1929 Ford Roadster Pickup chatting with her Grandpa when we approached. One of the NSRA officials clued us in on Sarah’s story. He told us she was only 17 and we should ask about “her  car” because she built it.

Based on experience, we know building a car from the ground up takes a couple of years. But a girl? A 17 year old girl?  The brain was already in overdrive even before we could introduce ourselves. Surely the car was purchased, maybe she modified it with help and called it her own?

After a short introduction, Sarah proceeded to explain how she built it with her Grandpa’s guidance.  Notice we didn’t say Grandpa’s “help?”  It was clear that she knew the car inside and out. “How long did it take to build?” we asked. “Five years,” she replied.

We’re not rocket scientists but applying simple math, we deducted five from 17 and came up with 12. What? NO! Uh-huh! She started building a hot rod at 12!  Girls don’t do that. EZ Bake oven maybe, but wrenching and painting a car?  Grandpa confirmed it, “Yes, actually, she started on the car when she was 11.”

What were we doing at 11? Playing cowboys, superheroes, wading in the creek and building forts in the barn’s hay loft!  There’s a hot rod story here and we wanted to tell it. The precocious Sarah had already proven her skills were uncommon, so we decided to let her tell the story in her own words. Since she’s still in school, we asked if she’d do some homework for us.

Couple weeks later, an ‘essay’ showed up. She wrote:

I grew up as a simple tom-boy type.  I liked tennis shoes, soccer, and hated the color pink. I liked going to Grandpa’s shop. At first, I would go to look at his cars and spend time with him.  I’ll never forget the day he handed me a paint brush and asked me to do touch-ups on his ‘35. It wasn’t much but I liked it. Then I wanted to know how to use every single tool in his shop.

Papa mentioned he wanted to build a ‘29 roadster pickup. I think he could see my excitement and offered a proposition:  If I worked on this truck from start to finish it could be mine. He bought the rough body but the frame had to be built, and we did just that.  I learned how to read a tape measure, and a little four word poem to help me remember which way to turn a wrench.

I fell in love with the idea of what this truck could be. I learned how to bend metal, cut metal, and bolt metal together. I welded my name in metal and Papa told me it was actually good, so I welded other things for him.

School took a lot of time so it put a pause on the advancements I’d made on the truck. While at school I’d think about it. My essays about hobbies were a little different than other students. Even though my friends didn’t know what a brake line or shock mount was, they were amazed by what I simply called my “hobby.”

Grandpa would pick me up from school and take me to the shop. Just watching my truck come together was everything – from nothing but a body to something extraordinary.

Over the next few years the car steadily moved forward after school, soccer, summer trips to the LA Roadster Show and the NSRA Nationals. With the rolling chassis finished, we moved on to the hours of body prep, before mounting the body and bed. We disassembled a 302 ci Ford engine. While turning the crank I learned how combustion engines work. I spent countless hours deburring the block and heads, prepping for paint.

“Sarah had been sandblasting parts, polishing stainless bolts and brackets, sanding and priming,” added Sarah’s Grandfather.

When it was time to pick out color I looked at over a thousand paint chips before I actually saw the color I wanted, a 2010 Mustang color called “Grabber Blue.” Once the engine was covered in duct tape, blocking off the parts we didn’t need painted, we bolted on the pan, heads and intake. When that was painted it was time to go on the Vintage Air Road Tour.

It was the last week of school and instead of going to Disney World or the beach I was going on a road trip across the desert to California, then to Colorado, in Grandpa’s 1955 Chevy. I thought that was the coolest thing in the world, well, maybe after me driving my own truck.

“We came back from the NSRA Nats with the ‘55 trunk loaded with parts,” Sarah’s Grandfather explained. “For the next few weeks she worked installing the chrome and polished accessories to the engine.”

Sarah continued: Before sliding the engine into chassis, we bolted on the AOD transmission I’d spent hours polishing. That done, Papa and I mounted the body and the stainless windshield frame and decided it was too tall. We chopped it two inches and leaned it back. A couple months later, after a lot of welding, sanding and polishing the posts, I have the hot rod look on the roadster pickup.

When we got farther on my truck, the dream began to be reality. All the hard work and time put into it was worth it because I was able to drive it to our first car show – in Cabela’s parking lot with about 20 cars. Even though I was in the driver’s seat, no one would ask me what size engine or what kind of head lights. They’d look at Papa assuming I didn’t know and that I was just along for the ride. At first I thought it was funny until a guy wearing cowboy boots and a hat a little too big for him asked, “He’s got you cleaning it?”  I replied, “Well, it is my truck!”

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Left: November 29, 2013, engine in, Sarah works at installing the roller rockers. Right: Gauges set in the dash, Sarah wiring the rest of the car.

He just stared while papa handed him the photo album and proved to a stranger that I’m not a ride-along or helper. By this time I had a photo album of everything I’d done on my truck – pictures of me actually doing it.

Before the album, people wouldn’t believe me because they only saw me as a small young girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, not a smart and strong girl who loves cars and getting covered in mud or paint or oil.

I had to “prove myself” to almost everyone that asked about my truck. I own a 1929 Ford roadster pickup that I built! I then realized what I did isn’t what typical girls my age do! No one will make me feel any different about what I did, but to me it’s just normal. I’d rather be at the shop than at the mall. I may not have known what a feminist was but I soon did.

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Left: April, 2015. Sarah, in her Crockett High School cheer outfit poses in front of her car. Right: Sarah armed with her “learner’s permit,” drives into the Texas Motor Speedway. Grandpa riding shotgun.

In 2014, the truck was close enough to finished for the trip to California with Vintage Air. Bags packed and truck gassed up, we overheated 20 miles out. We loaded it on a trailer and hoped Papa’s ‘34 rat rod was strong enough to tow all the way. Unfortunately his truck’s engine died – we were out of options! We flew to California instead.

A year later, my truck was completed. This time we were going to Bowling Green, Kentucky, for the Nostalgia Drags. We were even more determined and prepared. I had my learner’s permit and the trip was perfect practice. We hit rain in every state but it was worth it being able to have the opportunity of a lifetime. Yes, there are people who don’t believe me when I say “I built it” but I believe it’ll always be this way, until their granddaughters decide to spend some days learning “men’s” work.

Sarah’s grandfather explained the highlights of the trip. “On the Bowling Green trip, we stopped at Comp Cams in Memphis, where she watched them make camshafts from cylinders to a tested product. We also visited MSD in El Paso.”

Now that my car is done, I’m still in high school and I am co-captain of my Cheer Leading squad and a Varsity Starter for my soccer team. I AM the proud owner of a beautiful ’29 roadster pickup that’s won awards at many car shows. No matter what else I accomplish in life I will never forget the five long years I got to spend with my grandfather, go against stereotypes, and build my very own hot rod truck from start to finish.