enigmadsm
05-02-2007, 12:30 PM
Okay, this guy Raven....he live in like Indiana...Anyways he wrote a pretty bad ass story on the buick forum....Its probably up to about 40 pages in your standard book by now. I am going to copy and past THAT story over in a little bit.....but it will take some time.
I personally dont like reading, but i enjoy the stories that he makes up. SO here is a short one chapter one he just made..................
Sometimes.... everything is not exactly as it seems.
The first time I saw the car was when I was walking out of the auto parts store. I had stopped in to get the usual assortment of things necessary when one does his own oil change - you know, oil, filter, rags, air freshener, the nifty fat handled screwdriver with the blue handle and an assortment of screwdriver bits that slip fit onto the end, plus wax, spark plugs (for that next time - but not remembering you have 3 sets still sitting there) and so on. It would be cheaper of course to just go to the local Pennzoil station and pay them the $19.95 to have them do it, but no - by golly, I’m saving money. Oh....the parts bill was $57.30.... hmmmmm.
Anyhow, as I pushed the door open with my shoulder (both hands were holding the huge box of "essentials" I had just bought) and leaned on through out into the sunlight, I saw it. Well, actually, I saw the "For Sale" sign first and noticed that it was decorating the window of a car I had never seen before in this part of town. I wasn’t even sure what it was at first. Was it an import? An exotic? Hard to tell, being all low slung and squatty looking. But - I knew I liked it.
I sat my oil change (and more) on the ground next to it as I walked around it. The October Saturday afternoon sun glistened off it’s flanks as I stopped and stared.... Then, I saw the emblem on the rear, just below the wing. "Supra". I had never seen one like this before. I had heard about them, read a blurb in R&T about them but had pretty much ignored them because they were too "foreign" for me.
Me? Oh, I’m just a regular guy... Pretty much lived hear in all my life, enjoying my job as a "Headhunter". You know, the guy that finds "The right person for the right job"? You would be surprised what companies will pay for someone like me to find them the "One". But the best part of it all is that it gives me time for my true passion - street racing. But I’ll come back to that in a moment.
Married? A couple of times and maybe again. If I ever met "her"... But after what I had experienced, I figured... why worry? I figured that "she" would come along when it was meant to be - just like this car, a ’97 Twin Turbo Supra, maroon with black leather and an automatic. It looked almost new...
"Whadayathink?" she asked, all in one word. I turned around to face a tall blonde, about 38 or so with legs that went all the way to her neck it seemed. (Wow! A woman who could turn heads in a morgue full of dead men.) "I’m selling it cheap! Ya interested?" Well, after sucking in my 43 year old, Taco Bell enhanced stomach, I said "Sure" as smoothly as I could. "How much is ‘cheap’ and why are you selling it?"
"Well, we can talk numbers in a minute, but it’s my ex husband’s. I got the car, he got a new wife. I already had a Camry, but the judge figured I deserved this too, so it’s for sale." Oooh... a woman scorned - the phrase "Hell hath no fury like" bounced around my brain. (What could possibly make a man cheat on THIS one??)
We small talked a while, agreed on a price and before I could even think about it, it was mine. For cheap.... which was good. Of course, I needed her phone number - in case I had any "questions"..... later...
"So how’s the Supra coming?" I didn’t even hear Todd walk in the garage, I was so intent on the new exhaust I was putting on it. I slid out from beneath the axle stand supported car and just shrugged, "Oh, so-so." Yep, lying big time too... as my credit card would attest. Exhaust, the twin to single turbo conversion, head work, tranny upgrade, and on and on and on. This was going to be "The One". I had even ordered the personalized plate I had always wanted. "MAXIMUM" because this car - the Supra - would be that precisely; a Maximum in a land of excess.....
Six months later and a couple grand more, I took "Max" for his maiden trip at National Trails on a warm April afternoon. Several runs later that evening, and lots of adjustments thrown in, I got him dialed in. 10.88/133.... not bad. But room for more.... You wanna know what was the best part that whole night? When I was capping the cutout and two young teenagers walked up and one said, "Mister, I like your Camaro." Well, at least they liked it even if they didn’t know what it was.
Saturday night. Parties. Warm, sunny afternoon - but cool air at dusk. A night to prowl, looking for the unsuspecting, the unknowing, ("I like your Camaro"), the weak and the defenseless. I cruised for almost an hour before I pulled into the Big Boy, figuring surely something of interest would pull through.
The Big Boy on Broadway was a veritable nest of the best in high performance street machinery. It was not uncommon on any given night to see blown 10 second 5.0’s, 12 second Chevelles, Phat Muffed GSX Eclipses, LS1’s, Cobra’s, Hemi Cuda’s.... you name it. If it was meant to go fast, it was there.... But tonight, there was one car I had yet to see actually on the street. A black car. One so rare, so powerful, and yet so deceivingly subtle that it had to be only car within the gates of Hades. A Buick GNX.
"What’s that?" asked Nick. Pat looked in the direction Nick had nodded while still slurping his Cherry Coke and saw the dark car pull into the Big Boy’s lot. "I don’t know... I think it’s a Supra. But it doesn’t have a wing. Must be a N/A one." Pat reached down and flipped the station on the Concert Sound stereo on, the tape hissing at first then - the riff he loved started to play; Lenny Kravitz’ "American Woman". "God, I love that guitar work", sighed Nick.
Nick had known Pat for years, and actually was the one that got Pat involved in Turbo Buicks. Nick had an ’84 Hotair car that he had modded slightly - well, to the tune of a 12 second street ride. One ride in Nick’s car was all Pat needed - he was hooked. He had to have one of his own, and so Pat - being one who always erred on the side of excess - looked and eventually bought the baddest of the bad. The GNX.
Ignoring the "Save the Whale" thinking he often ran into, Pat had set about in a vengeance to build the ultimate street warrior. He took off the stock parts he wanted to upgrade and boxed them. The turbo, the downpipe, the transmission, the doghouse and plenum, the heads.... No... this was going to be the car that everyone would fear. And fear it they did.
The Supra had a whine that Pat hadn’t heard a Toyota make before as it idled past his Buick. "I don’t know, Nick. That’s not a regular Supra. Hell, there ain’t even any badges on it. And look at those tires. Nah... that ain’t no typical Supra....."
I saw the Buick sitting beneath the awning and noticed two guys sitting in it. Hmmmm.... was that "American Woman" I thought I heard as I drove by? I never understood the fascination with those big cars. Oh sure, they looked good and all, but really - why? While I knew they were wicked and not a car to take lightly, I just never liked the huge sedan look. But there was something different about that car... were those fender flares?
I parked opposite the Buick, backing in to the space and watched the CarHop skate out to my window. (Yes, they do still skate!) After ordering a shake and some onion rings, I turned my stare towards the Buick. What was that on the grille? GNX? Oh, yeah. I had heard about this car. VERY rare. 547 was it? That’s all they built? Damn.... nice car, even if it was a sedan.
Lost in thought for a moment, the waitress skated up to my window. "Hey mister. That guy in the car said for me to give this to you." She handed me a paper that had only three words on it, printed cryptically. "WANNA PLAY BALL?" As I looked up I saw the driver getting out of his black car and walking towards my car. Thoughts of deep sea fishing raced through my mind; you know - when you feel that strong, hard tug and you know that you hooked something really big?
"Well?" asked Pat. "What do think? Wanna play ball?" The Supra jockey just looked up at him and had this silly grin as he asked, "Play ball?"
"Yeah. You know - run ‘em? You do have a real car here don’t you? I heard the whistle, saw the meats, you gotta have something under the hood. So - wanna play ball?" "Maybe later.... my onion rings are coming" stared the Supra dude, not smiling anymore. "Just be patient.... ok?" Pat nodded and walked back to his car.
"What did he say?" asked Nick as Pat eased back in behind the wheel, pulling the long black door shut. "Oh yeah, he’ll play. He’s just screwing with my mind he thinks. I can wait.... as long as it takes." One thing you could always say about Pat - he had the patience of Job.
I finished the onion rings - always great - and then the shake. After motioning the car hop over, I got out and walked over to the Buick. The driver had the window down, talking to his buddy as I walked up. I could see a couple of gauges on the A pillar, another one on the dash, and a small rectangular one on the lip above the radio, displaying some red numbers. Was that Lenny Kravitz he just turned down? "So, you still up for it?" I asked. He turned to face me and said coolly, "I thought you were stalling. I figured you weren’t interested.... well, if you really want to, we can run. For money. Playing Major League Ball is expensive you know."
"How much?"
"$100" "Ok, let’s play." After some explaining where we were going to race - an abandoned industrial park - I agreed to follow him there. His buddy would hold the money, I would hold his buddy’s wallet, and we would "play ball". I walked back over to my car and started it up. That’s odd - I could hear HIS car over mine. Hmmm.... could be interesting....
Nick watched Pat put the key into the ignition, watched him turn it to on, heard the fuel pump whine "AI-EEEEEEEE" then stop, followed by Pat starting the motor. The new cam gave it just enough of a lumpity lump that it sounded good, especially through the ATR Single Shot. They pulled out of the spot slowly and Pat watched the Supra pull in tight behind him as they headed west out to the edge of town to the old Seally park, long abandoned, but with nearly a mile of straight, black tarmac. The mercury vapor lights offered plenty of light and the cops never came around, mainly because several of them raced there too on their off nights.
As we pulled in to the main area, I could see that there were several other cars there too. The sounds of what must have been two big blocks echoed off the abandoned building’s walls as they left the makeshift starting line. The guy in the Buick reached out his window and motioned for me to pull along side. I rolled down the passenger window... "Let’s get in line. Give your cash to Nick, ok?" Nick (according to the Buick guy) came around and handed me his wallet as I gave him the two fifties. "When I drop this white towel, you go - got it? We gotta move fast because there are others waiting. Where that Asian dude is standing is where you will leave from. The end is the 4th light down - that’s a quarter mile exactly. Now, are you sure you got it?" I just nodded my head. Oh yeah.... I got it.
The two cars pulled up to Nick, the Buick on the right, the Supra on the left. As Nick raised the white towel, both drivers stood on the brake pedal - hard. Ironic of sorts... two 6 cylinder cars, each with enough power to humiliate 98% of the V8’s there that night, including the two big block Chevy’s they heard running as they pulled in...
Pat loved the feel of the GNX as the boost started to build. Nick knew that the "X" needed about 7-8 psi for a good launch. But what had him puzzled was the whine that was building under the Supra’s hood. He had figured out it was a masked TT car, but this one didn’t sound like any Sup he had heard before.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSS".... both turbos were now screaming at each other. 3.... 4.... 5 psi..... Pat looked at the Autometer he had on the A pillar.... The Supra guy looked at his on the dash..... 6...................................... 7......
Nick could hear nothing but the screams of two demonic forces now. (Shoulda brought the earplugs.....) His arm was held high.... a moth circled his face.....
I saw the "Starter" swat at something near his face and nearly left off. What the hell was that? A diversion? 7.................. 8........ Then, in very, very slow motion, I saw his fingers slowly open and the small, white towel begin to yield to gravity. At the first twitch of his fingers, my foot was off the brake.... "Buuuuhhh -WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" and I was thrown into the bucket seat with the fist of an invisible god - the god of high horsepower. In the corner of my eye, I saw the left front fender of the Buick lift so high, the tire had to have left the pavement. Not Max-he launched hard and he launched fast.
Nick released the towel and immediately plugged his ears, knowing that two very high horsepower cars were about to pass his body in fury... the white towel fell like a wet leaf near his right foot, but before it hit the ground, the two cars were behind him and gone....
Pat shifted the tranny at 6100 and felt the car lurch hard as the slicks bit once more. The Supra was glued to his side and even through his closed window he could hear what had to be a monstrous turbo wailing, screaming, crying....
I let the transmission shift itself, knowing that Rod had done his work to the valve body and programming in the Supra. The shifts were harder than any manual I had ever driven and power shifted. Max meant business and tonight was the baptism of fire. Would his first run be a victory? Or a loss....?
The second light flew by as the cars were now solidly into second gear. Pat could not shake the Supra, but neither could the maroon shark slip away from the "X"..... The two/three shifts were coming up.... as was the third light...
Sometimes, when I look back at that night, I realize how strangely "Twilight Zone"-ish a night like that is. I should have known that not everything goes as planned. Sometimes it’s better than we hoped; sometimes - it’s worse... much worse. There has to be a winner. There has to be a loser - in every race. The winner gets to smile and be patted on the back. Another notch in the belt, especially if it was a worthy foe. Smiles and warm memories... the story often told over and over by maybe a buddy, a family member... "Did you hear about when your father beat that really fast car?" And so it goes for the guy who wins....
The loser? Well, he gets to try harder the next time. Sometimes... no matter how much he spent, how much he prepared, how many times he won before or dreamed of winning.... he loses. Tonight....as it will forever be played out on the streets and strips across the country, someone will win - someone will lose....
Pat noticed that something was changing in the sound of the Supra... the whine was getting a little more shrill. Banshee came to his mind... they had passed the 3rd light just a second ago and the forth was coming up. He saw the crowd standing to either side of the "lanes"... some were waving, some were pointing, all had to be strangers. Some were smiling, some were cursing.... but all, each and everyone of them, were watching the black car and the maroon car racing towards street racing history..... as both went by in a blur, dragging huge volumes of air in their wake, a Big Boy wrapper in the vortex shushing along the pavement.... the cackling of pipes being heard as they motored down....
Nick couldn’t tell who won, but it was close, that much he knew... real close....
I pulled up next to the line of parked cars and watched several people come over. I let the Supra idle for a few minutes as I looked in my side mirror at the "X" to my rear and right, also idling down. The buddy was walking briskly towards us.... his hands in the air as if to ask, "Who?".....
Pat got out of the Buick after shutting it down and smiled. This was how it was supposed to be wasn’t it? A winner and a loser? Many, many times had he stood in this area.... sometimes a loser, most of the time though - the winner. He liked that feeling - who doesn't? A win is awesome. A great kill of a very strong opponent was a drug for which there was no turning back from....
I watched Nick jog up to the Buick guy and after saying something, hand him the money. They both then started to walk over to my car, so I shut it off. Max was silent once more. As I stepped out of the car the crowd that was nearby now grew strangely silent. Where before I could hear talking and laughing now... it was as if all had fallen mute. The Buick guy walked up..... his footsteps loud in the cool night air....
Pat had the $200 in his left hand as he walked up and stood before the Supra guy. Then, he extended his right hand to shake the hand - of the winner.... and handed him the money. "You’ve got an awesome car, my friend. Rematch sometime?"
I took the money from the Buick guy's hand and listened to him congratulate me. It’s weird.... I still don’t know exactly where I pulled ahead. One second he was glued to my side, but as we crossed the finish, I saw that his nose was out of the corner of my eye.... I tucked the money in my shirt pocket and handed the wallet to the starter guy. "Nice job... that’s a strong car you got there" he said as he pocketed his wallet. But for some reason, I didn’t really hear what he said. Because directly behind him stood a tall blonde, a face I had seen before - it was the woman I had bought the car from!
She walked up and smiled.... I never thought I would see that car again", she said. "Do you know who you just beat?" "A guy with a very, very fast Buick?" was all I could stammer, noticing her green eyes sparkling.... "Not just any guy... that ‘guy’ is my EX!" she laughed.... I couldn’t help but laugh too. How ironic... there is always a winner, and -sadly- a loser...
Tonight it was my turn to win.... I was lucky because it could have gone either way. Maybe - just maybe - my winning streak wasn't over for the night.
Because the tall, leggy, knockout blonde just asked me for a ride back to Big Boy to get a coke! How could I ever refuse?
I personally dont like reading, but i enjoy the stories that he makes up. SO here is a short one chapter one he just made..................
Sometimes.... everything is not exactly as it seems.
The first time I saw the car was when I was walking out of the auto parts store. I had stopped in to get the usual assortment of things necessary when one does his own oil change - you know, oil, filter, rags, air freshener, the nifty fat handled screwdriver with the blue handle and an assortment of screwdriver bits that slip fit onto the end, plus wax, spark plugs (for that next time - but not remembering you have 3 sets still sitting there) and so on. It would be cheaper of course to just go to the local Pennzoil station and pay them the $19.95 to have them do it, but no - by golly, I’m saving money. Oh....the parts bill was $57.30.... hmmmmm.
Anyhow, as I pushed the door open with my shoulder (both hands were holding the huge box of "essentials" I had just bought) and leaned on through out into the sunlight, I saw it. Well, actually, I saw the "For Sale" sign first and noticed that it was decorating the window of a car I had never seen before in this part of town. I wasn’t even sure what it was at first. Was it an import? An exotic? Hard to tell, being all low slung and squatty looking. But - I knew I liked it.
I sat my oil change (and more) on the ground next to it as I walked around it. The October Saturday afternoon sun glistened off it’s flanks as I stopped and stared.... Then, I saw the emblem on the rear, just below the wing. "Supra". I had never seen one like this before. I had heard about them, read a blurb in R&T about them but had pretty much ignored them because they were too "foreign" for me.
Me? Oh, I’m just a regular guy... Pretty much lived hear in all my life, enjoying my job as a "Headhunter". You know, the guy that finds "The right person for the right job"? You would be surprised what companies will pay for someone like me to find them the "One". But the best part of it all is that it gives me time for my true passion - street racing. But I’ll come back to that in a moment.
Married? A couple of times and maybe again. If I ever met "her"... But after what I had experienced, I figured... why worry? I figured that "she" would come along when it was meant to be - just like this car, a ’97 Twin Turbo Supra, maroon with black leather and an automatic. It looked almost new...
"Whadayathink?" she asked, all in one word. I turned around to face a tall blonde, about 38 or so with legs that went all the way to her neck it seemed. (Wow! A woman who could turn heads in a morgue full of dead men.) "I’m selling it cheap! Ya interested?" Well, after sucking in my 43 year old, Taco Bell enhanced stomach, I said "Sure" as smoothly as I could. "How much is ‘cheap’ and why are you selling it?"
"Well, we can talk numbers in a minute, but it’s my ex husband’s. I got the car, he got a new wife. I already had a Camry, but the judge figured I deserved this too, so it’s for sale." Oooh... a woman scorned - the phrase "Hell hath no fury like" bounced around my brain. (What could possibly make a man cheat on THIS one??)
We small talked a while, agreed on a price and before I could even think about it, it was mine. For cheap.... which was good. Of course, I needed her phone number - in case I had any "questions"..... later...
"So how’s the Supra coming?" I didn’t even hear Todd walk in the garage, I was so intent on the new exhaust I was putting on it. I slid out from beneath the axle stand supported car and just shrugged, "Oh, so-so." Yep, lying big time too... as my credit card would attest. Exhaust, the twin to single turbo conversion, head work, tranny upgrade, and on and on and on. This was going to be "The One". I had even ordered the personalized plate I had always wanted. "MAXIMUM" because this car - the Supra - would be that precisely; a Maximum in a land of excess.....
Six months later and a couple grand more, I took "Max" for his maiden trip at National Trails on a warm April afternoon. Several runs later that evening, and lots of adjustments thrown in, I got him dialed in. 10.88/133.... not bad. But room for more.... You wanna know what was the best part that whole night? When I was capping the cutout and two young teenagers walked up and one said, "Mister, I like your Camaro." Well, at least they liked it even if they didn’t know what it was.
Saturday night. Parties. Warm, sunny afternoon - but cool air at dusk. A night to prowl, looking for the unsuspecting, the unknowing, ("I like your Camaro"), the weak and the defenseless. I cruised for almost an hour before I pulled into the Big Boy, figuring surely something of interest would pull through.
The Big Boy on Broadway was a veritable nest of the best in high performance street machinery. It was not uncommon on any given night to see blown 10 second 5.0’s, 12 second Chevelles, Phat Muffed GSX Eclipses, LS1’s, Cobra’s, Hemi Cuda’s.... you name it. If it was meant to go fast, it was there.... But tonight, there was one car I had yet to see actually on the street. A black car. One so rare, so powerful, and yet so deceivingly subtle that it had to be only car within the gates of Hades. A Buick GNX.
"What’s that?" asked Nick. Pat looked in the direction Nick had nodded while still slurping his Cherry Coke and saw the dark car pull into the Big Boy’s lot. "I don’t know... I think it’s a Supra. But it doesn’t have a wing. Must be a N/A one." Pat reached down and flipped the station on the Concert Sound stereo on, the tape hissing at first then - the riff he loved started to play; Lenny Kravitz’ "American Woman". "God, I love that guitar work", sighed Nick.
Nick had known Pat for years, and actually was the one that got Pat involved in Turbo Buicks. Nick had an ’84 Hotair car that he had modded slightly - well, to the tune of a 12 second street ride. One ride in Nick’s car was all Pat needed - he was hooked. He had to have one of his own, and so Pat - being one who always erred on the side of excess - looked and eventually bought the baddest of the bad. The GNX.
Ignoring the "Save the Whale" thinking he often ran into, Pat had set about in a vengeance to build the ultimate street warrior. He took off the stock parts he wanted to upgrade and boxed them. The turbo, the downpipe, the transmission, the doghouse and plenum, the heads.... No... this was going to be the car that everyone would fear. And fear it they did.
The Supra had a whine that Pat hadn’t heard a Toyota make before as it idled past his Buick. "I don’t know, Nick. That’s not a regular Supra. Hell, there ain’t even any badges on it. And look at those tires. Nah... that ain’t no typical Supra....."
I saw the Buick sitting beneath the awning and noticed two guys sitting in it. Hmmmm.... was that "American Woman" I thought I heard as I drove by? I never understood the fascination with those big cars. Oh sure, they looked good and all, but really - why? While I knew they were wicked and not a car to take lightly, I just never liked the huge sedan look. But there was something different about that car... were those fender flares?
I parked opposite the Buick, backing in to the space and watched the CarHop skate out to my window. (Yes, they do still skate!) After ordering a shake and some onion rings, I turned my stare towards the Buick. What was that on the grille? GNX? Oh, yeah. I had heard about this car. VERY rare. 547 was it? That’s all they built? Damn.... nice car, even if it was a sedan.
Lost in thought for a moment, the waitress skated up to my window. "Hey mister. That guy in the car said for me to give this to you." She handed me a paper that had only three words on it, printed cryptically. "WANNA PLAY BALL?" As I looked up I saw the driver getting out of his black car and walking towards my car. Thoughts of deep sea fishing raced through my mind; you know - when you feel that strong, hard tug and you know that you hooked something really big?
"Well?" asked Pat. "What do think? Wanna play ball?" The Supra jockey just looked up at him and had this silly grin as he asked, "Play ball?"
"Yeah. You know - run ‘em? You do have a real car here don’t you? I heard the whistle, saw the meats, you gotta have something under the hood. So - wanna play ball?" "Maybe later.... my onion rings are coming" stared the Supra dude, not smiling anymore. "Just be patient.... ok?" Pat nodded and walked back to his car.
"What did he say?" asked Nick as Pat eased back in behind the wheel, pulling the long black door shut. "Oh yeah, he’ll play. He’s just screwing with my mind he thinks. I can wait.... as long as it takes." One thing you could always say about Pat - he had the patience of Job.
I finished the onion rings - always great - and then the shake. After motioning the car hop over, I got out and walked over to the Buick. The driver had the window down, talking to his buddy as I walked up. I could see a couple of gauges on the A pillar, another one on the dash, and a small rectangular one on the lip above the radio, displaying some red numbers. Was that Lenny Kravitz he just turned down? "So, you still up for it?" I asked. He turned to face me and said coolly, "I thought you were stalling. I figured you weren’t interested.... well, if you really want to, we can run. For money. Playing Major League Ball is expensive you know."
"How much?"
"$100" "Ok, let’s play." After some explaining where we were going to race - an abandoned industrial park - I agreed to follow him there. His buddy would hold the money, I would hold his buddy’s wallet, and we would "play ball". I walked back over to my car and started it up. That’s odd - I could hear HIS car over mine. Hmmm.... could be interesting....
Nick watched Pat put the key into the ignition, watched him turn it to on, heard the fuel pump whine "AI-EEEEEEEE" then stop, followed by Pat starting the motor. The new cam gave it just enough of a lumpity lump that it sounded good, especially through the ATR Single Shot. They pulled out of the spot slowly and Pat watched the Supra pull in tight behind him as they headed west out to the edge of town to the old Seally park, long abandoned, but with nearly a mile of straight, black tarmac. The mercury vapor lights offered plenty of light and the cops never came around, mainly because several of them raced there too on their off nights.
As we pulled in to the main area, I could see that there were several other cars there too. The sounds of what must have been two big blocks echoed off the abandoned building’s walls as they left the makeshift starting line. The guy in the Buick reached out his window and motioned for me to pull along side. I rolled down the passenger window... "Let’s get in line. Give your cash to Nick, ok?" Nick (according to the Buick guy) came around and handed me his wallet as I gave him the two fifties. "When I drop this white towel, you go - got it? We gotta move fast because there are others waiting. Where that Asian dude is standing is where you will leave from. The end is the 4th light down - that’s a quarter mile exactly. Now, are you sure you got it?" I just nodded my head. Oh yeah.... I got it.
The two cars pulled up to Nick, the Buick on the right, the Supra on the left. As Nick raised the white towel, both drivers stood on the brake pedal - hard. Ironic of sorts... two 6 cylinder cars, each with enough power to humiliate 98% of the V8’s there that night, including the two big block Chevy’s they heard running as they pulled in...
Pat loved the feel of the GNX as the boost started to build. Nick knew that the "X" needed about 7-8 psi for a good launch. But what had him puzzled was the whine that was building under the Supra’s hood. He had figured out it was a masked TT car, but this one didn’t sound like any Sup he had heard before.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSS".... both turbos were now screaming at each other. 3.... 4.... 5 psi..... Pat looked at the Autometer he had on the A pillar.... The Supra guy looked at his on the dash..... 6...................................... 7......
Nick could hear nothing but the screams of two demonic forces now. (Shoulda brought the earplugs.....) His arm was held high.... a moth circled his face.....
I saw the "Starter" swat at something near his face and nearly left off. What the hell was that? A diversion? 7.................. 8........ Then, in very, very slow motion, I saw his fingers slowly open and the small, white towel begin to yield to gravity. At the first twitch of his fingers, my foot was off the brake.... "Buuuuhhh -WHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" and I was thrown into the bucket seat with the fist of an invisible god - the god of high horsepower. In the corner of my eye, I saw the left front fender of the Buick lift so high, the tire had to have left the pavement. Not Max-he launched hard and he launched fast.
Nick released the towel and immediately plugged his ears, knowing that two very high horsepower cars were about to pass his body in fury... the white towel fell like a wet leaf near his right foot, but before it hit the ground, the two cars were behind him and gone....
Pat shifted the tranny at 6100 and felt the car lurch hard as the slicks bit once more. The Supra was glued to his side and even through his closed window he could hear what had to be a monstrous turbo wailing, screaming, crying....
I let the transmission shift itself, knowing that Rod had done his work to the valve body and programming in the Supra. The shifts were harder than any manual I had ever driven and power shifted. Max meant business and tonight was the baptism of fire. Would his first run be a victory? Or a loss....?
The second light flew by as the cars were now solidly into second gear. Pat could not shake the Supra, but neither could the maroon shark slip away from the "X"..... The two/three shifts were coming up.... as was the third light...
Sometimes, when I look back at that night, I realize how strangely "Twilight Zone"-ish a night like that is. I should have known that not everything goes as planned. Sometimes it’s better than we hoped; sometimes - it’s worse... much worse. There has to be a winner. There has to be a loser - in every race. The winner gets to smile and be patted on the back. Another notch in the belt, especially if it was a worthy foe. Smiles and warm memories... the story often told over and over by maybe a buddy, a family member... "Did you hear about when your father beat that really fast car?" And so it goes for the guy who wins....
The loser? Well, he gets to try harder the next time. Sometimes... no matter how much he spent, how much he prepared, how many times he won before or dreamed of winning.... he loses. Tonight....as it will forever be played out on the streets and strips across the country, someone will win - someone will lose....
Pat noticed that something was changing in the sound of the Supra... the whine was getting a little more shrill. Banshee came to his mind... they had passed the 3rd light just a second ago and the forth was coming up. He saw the crowd standing to either side of the "lanes"... some were waving, some were pointing, all had to be strangers. Some were smiling, some were cursing.... but all, each and everyone of them, were watching the black car and the maroon car racing towards street racing history..... as both went by in a blur, dragging huge volumes of air in their wake, a Big Boy wrapper in the vortex shushing along the pavement.... the cackling of pipes being heard as they motored down....
Nick couldn’t tell who won, but it was close, that much he knew... real close....
I pulled up next to the line of parked cars and watched several people come over. I let the Supra idle for a few minutes as I looked in my side mirror at the "X" to my rear and right, also idling down. The buddy was walking briskly towards us.... his hands in the air as if to ask, "Who?".....
Pat got out of the Buick after shutting it down and smiled. This was how it was supposed to be wasn’t it? A winner and a loser? Many, many times had he stood in this area.... sometimes a loser, most of the time though - the winner. He liked that feeling - who doesn't? A win is awesome. A great kill of a very strong opponent was a drug for which there was no turning back from....
I watched Nick jog up to the Buick guy and after saying something, hand him the money. They both then started to walk over to my car, so I shut it off. Max was silent once more. As I stepped out of the car the crowd that was nearby now grew strangely silent. Where before I could hear talking and laughing now... it was as if all had fallen mute. The Buick guy walked up..... his footsteps loud in the cool night air....
Pat had the $200 in his left hand as he walked up and stood before the Supra guy. Then, he extended his right hand to shake the hand - of the winner.... and handed him the money. "You’ve got an awesome car, my friend. Rematch sometime?"
I took the money from the Buick guy's hand and listened to him congratulate me. It’s weird.... I still don’t know exactly where I pulled ahead. One second he was glued to my side, but as we crossed the finish, I saw that his nose was out of the corner of my eye.... I tucked the money in my shirt pocket and handed the wallet to the starter guy. "Nice job... that’s a strong car you got there" he said as he pocketed his wallet. But for some reason, I didn’t really hear what he said. Because directly behind him stood a tall blonde, a face I had seen before - it was the woman I had bought the car from!
She walked up and smiled.... I never thought I would see that car again", she said. "Do you know who you just beat?" "A guy with a very, very fast Buick?" was all I could stammer, noticing her green eyes sparkling.... "Not just any guy... that ‘guy’ is my EX!" she laughed.... I couldn’t help but laugh too. How ironic... there is always a winner, and -sadly- a loser...
Tonight it was my turn to win.... I was lucky because it could have gone either way. Maybe - just maybe - my winning streak wasn't over for the night.
Because the tall, leggy, knockout blonde just asked me for a ride back to Big Boy to get a coke! How could I ever refuse?