NEW FOR 2015  

FOREWORD by David Wecker,
Long-time Cincinnati Post columnist
and Founder of BrandFlick

ISBN: 978-1-59630-098-9

LENGTH: 215 pages.

PRICE: $ Hard Copy (also
available in Kindle Electronic

BeechHouse Press, © 2015.

CLASS:  Illustrated
Fiction & Non-Fiction.  

GENRE: Historically and Technically,
Correct Short Stories.

PUBLISHER: BeechHouse Press,
Chesterfield, MO






Classic Tales of the Road and Beyond           Barnes & Noble


An eclectic collection of short fiction and non-fiction stories.Though it’s not a car book, per se, motor vehicles are part of almost every story – some very car intensive. The book is illustrated by the noted car artist, JACK PUMPHREY, and also contains many cool photos from my personal collection. All of the stories are void of graphic sex, language, violence and politics. There are plenty of car stories, love stories and even a few Twilight Zone types..


“Chuck Klein writes deftly, eloquently and convincingly about what he knows, and what he knows encompasses a whole big bunch of subjects.  When he writes about power shifting and tires peeling, you can feel the lurch and hear the squeal.  He does this in a way that’s part fancy and part personal history, part pop and part Twilight Zone.  He writes about heroes and other young men who might have been heroes had they not fallen tragically short of what they’d hoped would be. He writes about . . . the ghosts of rock ‘n’ roll when it was still new, still raw ‘n’ real."
. . . David Wecker,
Long-time Cincinnati Post columnist; Founder of
BrandFlick. March 2015
"A collection of both factual and fictional stories about an era gone by, Where The Old Highway Had Run aptures the essence of the male experience in the second half of the twentieth century. A metaphor for life, fast cars is depicted almost as an extension of the male self, as he takes risks and lives life more fully. Fueled by rock-and-roll music and the pursuit of women, stop signs, and speed limits are all but moot. Taken individually, many of the stories provide a nice blend of personal experience and historical context. 'Hot Rod Hero,' 'The Pick-Up,' and 'Flashing Blue Lights' are particularly enjoyable stories". San Francisco Book Review

 "The pictures and art illustrations really compliment the writing. The train sketches with the story of racing the train really dates the story. I wonder if the racing the train story was a result from Barney Oldfield who was driving in a race and should have stopped at the railroad crossing and wait for the train to pass. Oldfield instead stepped on the gas racing the train and driving across the crossing just in front of the train. My over all opinion of the book is a 5 star rating. Once the reader reads the story with the beautiful visuals added, they will be wanting more!" David Setterland, 2015.

Unlike a novelist, who has the luxury of using as many words as he/she finds necessary to make a point, the short story writer chooses to write under the self-imposed handicap of brevity. The choice and placement of each word is critical to the mood, the story line and to character development. Stephen King once said that he can never manage to write anything that is the right length. His short stories are too long and his novels are too short. Perhaps he should have taken lessons from Chuck Klein. Thanks Chuck, for capturing those days perfectly. David Hardin, writer

"Chuck Klein’s stories are short, taut, cleverly constructed, and full of sharply observed detail. The same qualities hold for the nostalgic narrative essays. Altogether an enjoyable, entertaining book." Bill Blum, 2015

"Readers who love hot rods, guns and ammo, rock ’n’ roll, and stories of heroic drivers and police are the best audience for this book.“ — Kirkus Reviews, 2015
“An amazing reflection of well written and illustrated short stories that recounts life with unique people over a broad expanse of subjects from hot rods, to trains, to cops, to love stories to even some Twilight Zone types.” Betsy G. Ackerman, B.S. Edu., 2015 
They lived in a house trailer on his father’s farm that was set back from the road almost half a mile, next to where the old highway had run. He had only known dream-girl pretty, Kaycee, his wife, for a year before they ‘had to’ get married. To Josh, they fit like a tire to a wheel or a revolver to a holster. Both talked about building a proper home on this back forty if things worked out.
. . . and were immediately greeted by a young woman in a smartly creased kaki uniform with the silver bars of a 1st Lieutenant on her shoulders.  This was in contrast to Sugar’s low-rise, bare-midriff, stretch pants and halter top and Honey’s boot-cut, Levis and polo shirt. The room’s walls were covered in World War II patriotic posters and recruiting slogans. Each of the many tables was covered with paper stacks, in/out boxes, and noisy typewriters manned by uniformed soldiers busy at work. The Lieutenant, smiled and said, “If you’re here to sign-up, I can help you. Where did you get such clothing? I’ve never seen anything quite like it. But, don’t worry if you can’t afford good clothes, the Army will dress you proper.”
 Mystified to the point of being speechless, they started toward two frosted and pebbled glass doors at the far end of the room; one lettered, 1890, the other; Exit to. . . .

. . . the kids who ushered in the Beatles era and the beginning of hard and acid rock. They were the ones flooding the tarmac at Fab-4 arrivals and over-whelming security at hotels, concerts or anywhere the invaders from Britain were rumored to be. The oldest of the Boomers didn’t turn sixteen until 1961; the youngest in 1971, well after the recession of the late 1950s. With fresh money and an improved economy their daddies could buy them a factory car that was faster than anything their older siblings had built by hand.
 The War babies (born 1941-1945) excluded themselves from the phenomena of the Beatles and the wave of new music. They felt more mature, as in; to embrace the new music meant mixing with and accepting the values of this younger generation - the Boomers were just kids to them. They surely didn’t see themselves bouncing up and down alongside their baby brothers and sisters.