I and Racer W (the W is for wannabe) traveled to the starting area at the other end of the straight stretch of country road that passes by the old country store. Racer W picked the oncoming lane for his choice (probably because he seems to spend a lot of his time driving on that side). I offered up a little contraption that I came across at a swap meet years ago. It is a starting tree of sorts. It has two yellow lights and a green light. Once the button on it is pushed, The first yellow light at the top of the 'tree' lights, followed by the next yellow light, followed by the green light. The person selected to line up the cars that are challenging, lines up the vehicles, then pushes the button. When the green light illuminates, truth very quickly follows. I might mention, in passing, that having had the 'tree' in my possession for sometime, I have first hand knowledge of how fast it triggers each light (heh heh). Ricer W, I mean Racer W, may not have thought about this when I offered up its use. This tree stands about 5 feet tall and can be picked up rather quickly and carried off should the need to vacate arise. I set some pressure on the front brakes and brought the engine up to 2800 rpm and whittled some rubber down onto the road for a few feet. I backed up over the fresh laid rubber. I put the trans brake on and brought her up to about 3500 and switched off the brake, causing the car to jump forward. It will loft the left front wheel if there is enough traction present. You might well imagine the sights and smells of an old gold and white Impala, stock looking steel wheels with little chrome wheel covers (poverty caps, we called them back in the day), backing up while the driver opens the door to back right over the fresh strip of rubber. The door closes. The driver nods at the starter person. The old girl sits ever so slightly higher in the rear. Header cutouts can be seen just behind the front tires. The rear axle is somewhat narrowed to accommodate wider tires. I glance over at Racer W and he does the rev limiter, turbo sneeze, purge the nos system with puffs of vapor thing. He glances over at me. I rev up the old girl. She rears over toward the passenger side of the car each time the throttle opens. I look back at the starter person and nod again. The first yellow light illuminates. I select low one and the trans brake and bring her up to 2000 rpm while silently counting in my head. As the second yellow light comes on, I bring her up to 3500 and tuck my chin. Anticipating the green, I release the trans brake and six butterflies in three carburetors come almost vertical. It feels like getting hit by a three hundred pound lineman in the back. It takes about three seconds to get her straightened up and reach top speed in low one. I strike a blow to the shifter with the palm of my right hand to select low two. I am quite surprised to see the little silver car abreast of me. That thing has a launch like it came out of a sling shot. Second gear lasts about another three seconds. I smack the shifter again. The finish line is approaching in a hurry, about four seconds after hitting high gear. So is somebody that is standing in the middle of the road at the finish line. I am a little more than perplexed but recognize the store's owner sporting a strange look on his face as we fly past. I shoot a glance in the side mirror, there's nothing there! I do make out what might be the rear end of the little silver machine in my peripheral vision. I look forward. The speedo is buried past 120. The old boat anchor big block is pulling like a freight train when I blow past the entrance of the store. As soon as I'm off the throttle, that silver car is right next to me. I'm a little concerned until I look at Racer W's face as we slow down. Once I get the old girl back out of the air and onto the roadway again, I turn around and head back to the store. I'm gonna have to have a talk with that guy, I think out loud about the stores owner. We pull in and climb out of our prospective vehicles. I look around nervously, expecting Mrs Jim to jump forward from thin air and grab up the prize money. The store owner is pounding me on the back and describing what it looked like when we flew past. I step over to Racer W. "What did I get you by" I ask him? "Not quite a car length" says Racer W. "You got a good jump at the start" he adds. Someone from the crowd is leading the store owner to a chair. His hands are shaking and he is real pale in the face. He looks up at me and smiles a faint sort of smile. "I just cant believe that you stand out there like that to see who wins" he says breathlessly. "It takes a little getting used to" I tell him matter of factly. "I tell you what though" I add, "You looked like a pro, nerves of steel, if I may say so"
No way in hell this boat did mid 60's like he posted after the engine was installed.
poke
