Its been one of those days....

[enigmadsm]

LONG ASS STORY!!! and its not even finished.....i HATE reading, but love this story...so i figured maybe some of you could get a kick out of it when you're super bored.....





It was one of those days. You know; the kind that you just wish you hadn’t even got out of bed for? Seemed like everything I touched just went in the dumpster all morning beginning with the stupid alarm clock.

It didn’t even go off. Piece of crap; finally, I had to admit that I was going to accept the fact that I was going to have to replace it. On top of that, I was already late for work and because I was hurrying in the shower, I cut my face shaving in not one but two places. I looked like a poster-boy for a toilet paper pieces commercial. But out the door I went, grabbing the keys to the GN on the way.

When I got out in the garage, I see another disappointment for the day. Damn! The right rear tire was low.

Again.

Sheesh… when will I ever learn? The tire needs to come off and be looked at. It obviously has a slow leak and since I hadn’t driven the GN since the previous Wednesday, I didn’t think about. Which, in retrospect, seems like something I do (or don’t do) a lot – think. Well, I was already late, it was forecast to be a great Ohio morning for late fall (a predicted high of mid-60* and this was two days after Thanksgiving – how great is THAT?), and I wanted to get the Buick out for the short drive to work just to work all the fluids around again. Of course, that great plan was now delayed since I was going to have to get the air hose and air up the Nitto DR again.

Yep, I shoulda learned a long time ago – deal with it now while you’re thinking about or you’ll have to deal with it at a time when you really don’t have the time.

This day was one of those ‘times.

As I was airing the tire up (which really wasn’t that low – it looked much worse than it actually was), I was running through my plans for the day. Head into work and put a fresh tank of 93 octane in the car on the way. Cut out early since I was only really going in to catch up on some paperwork and then head on over to Barstow to hook up with some friends for some wings and drinks before the big game. Ok, so I was going to be delayed a bit – was it really that big of a deal? After all, I DID have some extra time… so, I relaxed a bit.

Testing the tire pressure again to make sure it was up to snuff, I put the Chrome valve stem cap back on and coiled the hose back up before opening the glistening black door and sliding into the driver’s seat. No matter how old I get, sliding into the seat of a Turbo Buick will always be a thrill. For some reason that is unexplainable, it just makes me feel like I should expect something and that it will come to pass.

Something great. Even if it is just a drive or a cruise, doing so in a Turbo Buick, especially an 11 second GN, was indeed something ‘great’.

As I turned the key and listened to the fuel pump come up to pressure and kick off (love the sound of that Walbro 340M for some reason!), I thought about my previous GN’s I had owned. My first one was a brand new one back in 1987. Chuckling to myself, I remembered how the rear tires on that car only lasted a little over 600 miles. Yeah… it was always great to drive a GN – unless you were its rear tires.

Twisting the key on to “Start”, I smiled as I heard the motor fire on what had to be the first spin of the starter. Gotta love that 3.8SFI – I’ve never had a car that starts as easy as these cars. Maybe I’ve just been lucky but no matter; mine have ALWAYS started quickly and fast. Well, as long as I had a good battery in them.

Or, as long as that stupid Fan Delay Relay didn’t crap out on me.

Again. And out of town to boot. But that’s another story. 

Letting the car warm up for a moment before easing the shifter back into “R” to back out of the garage, I remembered that Brandon was supposed to be at B-dubs today. You’ve really got to meet Brandon to understand what I’m about to tell you but I’ll try…

Backing on out of the garage and touching the garage door opener to close, I head on out the drive and begin the drive to work. Hmm… I really need a hot coffee. I wonder if Mickey D’s is open? Those thoughts raced through my head… oh, where was I? Yeah – I was about to tell you about Brandon. Ok, here goes.

First of all, Brandon is loyal. He’s a guy who will have your back no matter what. If he is your friend, he’s there for you, no matter what. Even if you are undeniably wrong, he will stand with you to the end. So, for that I’ve always been grateful.

Brandon is also a pretty big guy. Not fat – just big. Nearly 6’3 which is two inches taller than me, he is an imposing figure. And, he has arms the size of cannons, mainly from all his years loading stock at UPS.

But – Brandon is also a Ford guy. Oooh…. Major flaw, right? Yeah, I thought so too. And did I mention loyal? Well, Brandon is one of those guys who will definitely bleed Ford Blue when he’s cut, assuming you can cut his alligator leathery skin. And on top of that, he’s not just a Ford guy – he’s a Ford Mustang Guy.

Yeah… one of THOSE guys.

So, you can imagine the debates we’ve had over the years. He’s always had a Mustang and I’ve always had GN’s (well, when I had the money to have a performance car, that is). While I’ve dallied with GTO’s, Camaro’s, Firebirds, Olds 442’s (not the anemic late 70’s early ‘80’s crap – the REAL hairy-chested 442’s from the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s), Brandon has owned nothing but Mustangs.

Now, he’s had some real impressive ponies I must add. He had a sharp ’67 Shelby (that he sold just recently at Barrett-Jackson for BIG bucks), a ’70 Boss 302, a ’69 Mach 1 with the 428 that ran solid high 11’s with the few mods he did to it, several 5.0’s, a ’95 Cobra R, two different Terminators (an ’03 and a particularly nasty Competition Orange ’04), and his current car, a white/blue striped ’06 Mustang GT (Screaming Yellow) with the Roush Stage 3 package. And, he’s had a few other Ford products over the years, including a stock ’03 Mercury Marauder, a few different F-150’s, and a ’70 or ’71 Torino GT that was a pretty good ride.

Like I said – Brandon is loyal to his Fords. But, hey – there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s just Brandon.

As I slowed for the intersection, I note that the traffic is light. Well, at this time of the morning (6:30am) it usually is on a Saturday. This morning was no exception. I pull on into the Golden Arches and when I roll down the incredibly slow-moving Buick window (gotta do that power window mod someday) I smell the wonderfully addictive smell of fast food in the cool, crisp air. I order my food and move on around to the pick up window (“Second window, please!”) but just as I round the corner I notice that there is some ongoing construction at this restaurant. Well, normally, that isn’t a big deal, right?

Wrong.

Because with construction comes mud. It could be the middle of July and no rain for a month – in this part of Ohio, if somebody is digging there’s gonna be mud. And yep, I have no choice but to drive right through it to get up to that Mecca of fast food – the Second Window. Please.

I hear the grimy clay-like stuff flicking and spitting off my tires onto my recently waxed fenders. Ugh.

Now isn’t that great? Brown clay spots on my black car.

Yep… it’s one of THOSE days.

So, I grab my order (Coffee, black and an sausage/egg McMuffin) and head on out, hearing more little ‘tic’, ‘tics’ of mud flinging off my tires and onto my car. Damn…

Oh well, I’ll have time to spray it off before I head to join the crowd. In a moment, I make the parking lot for work, park out by the fence away from everyone, get out, lock up and head on inside to knock out the work-du jour, a bite of McMuffin already being chewed to bits as I pass through the gate.

The 6 hours go by pretty quickly other than a big fight with the printer (just another part of this ‘day’) but just as I am ready to leave my desk the phone rings. It’s my wife.

“Did Brandon get a hold of you?”

“No,” I answer. I don’t know why, but the guy just refuses to call my work number. And since my cell was charging on the desk it was off. “What did he want?”

“I’m not sure. He just said to tell you that he’ll meet you in the parking lot by your car – he’s there now and he’s got something to show you.”

Hmmm… what could it be THIS time? A new girl? A new car? A new watch? With Brandon, you just never know. He’s a guy who changes stuff more often than anyone I know so it could be anything.

As I pass through the gate, I can’t see the parking lot but I crane my neck a bit as I round the corner of the office building and that’s when I see it.

A black late model Mustang without any stripes on it but it does look to have some big tires. Hmm…. The new body style (’05 or newer) for sure – which I think looks great.

But – this one has an unusual hood and wheels. It definitely isn’t his current ride, the ’06 Roush. What is it?

As I get closer (still a couple hundred yards away), I notice that the front grille doesn’t have the extra fog lights like his GT does but the sides of the grille opening area seem to have a peculiar slant to them. I wonder if it’s a V6 car for a daily driver?

I watch Brandon open the driver’s door as the passenger door opens too, both getting out at the same time. Well, the other one is Stacy, his latest (but nicest) true love (more on her later! ).

I see that there is an unusual emblem on the side of the car just about the same time I notice Brandon’s mile-wide grin.

It’s a snake. And not just any snake. It’s a Cobra. OMG… Brandon just stepped out of an ’07 Shelby GT-500 without stripes.

And it is drop-dead gorgeous.

He notes my lower jaw scraping the ground and comes up to greet me as I approach the car.

“Well?” he asks. “Whadayathink?” His brilliantly white, perfectly aligned teeth gleemed with the huge grin he was flashing - I was almost blinded by the glare from them in the brilliant afternoon sunshine.

I just grin back and nod, trying not to show TOO much excitement. “Is it yours?” is all I can think to ask as I take in the serious attitude of the Shelby.

“Oh, yeah baby. She's mine, all right. I just picked it up an hour ago. I happened to walk into Anderson Ford for some filters as they were taking it off the truck this morning. One thing led to another and then the next thing I know, I’m signing the papers. Man, you’ve got to hear this thing….”

I just stand there in amazement. An honest-to-God ’07 Shelby Cobra, all of its 500 Horses backed by that wonderful 6 speed, is parked next to my GN here in the light of day. I couldn’t figure out why there wasn’t a crowd of people gawking at it like I was until I realized that I had answered that question before I realized what the car was.

This car really just wasn’t that noticeable – without the stripes that every other Mustang you see on every street corner in Small Town, USA has. Actually, it kind of looked like a mildly body-worked V-6 Mustang which I thought was kinda cool. Stealthy…

“How far in you did they break off the price?” I asked him looking the lines of the car over, all the while thinking about all the ‘Marketing Adjustments’ of $10k or more I had read about on various car forums since the car was first announced.

“That’s the cool thing, Steve…. I got it for MSRP. After all, I am one of Anderson’s best customers, you know. They wanted me to give them a nickel over but I told them ‘no way’. So, in the end, I got her for sticker and I’m happy.”

I had to agree. Only paying a bit over $43k for this awesome car was a pretty good deal.

“So… where ya heading, Steve?”

“Well, I WAS just going over to the new car wash on Cable to blow the mud off my GN. Wanna follow me over? I would love to get a good look at your car but I’ve got to get the crud off mine.”

“I’ve got a better idea” he said. “YOU drive the Shelby, me and Stacy will take your GN. How’s that? I would really like to know what you think of it anyhow. I mean, it’s stock and it’s new so it’s probably gonna be a little doggy for a while but still, take her for a spin and tell me what you think, ok?”

How could I turn THAT down? So, I tossed him my keys to the GN, opened the door to the Shelby and slid on inside. What was the first thing I noticed?

That wonderfully delicious new car smell! Leather, plastic, metal, paint, cloth, carpet – it all overwhelmed my senses as I ran my hand over the passenger side seat suede insert. It smelled…

Good. I'm being honest here - it did!

It smelled (and felt) REAL good. But how would it drive, I wondered to myself as I slid the fat key into the ignition.

How would it drive? Hmmm.....

I sat back in the seat of the Shelby and was immediately swept back to another time - back to when I bought my first GN. Even 20 years couldn’t separate the feeling, the smell, the sensation of sitting in a new and very powerful car. It was a heady feeling; one of knowing that all sorts of excitement was at my beck and call by simply matting the pedal beneath my right foot.

Ah… but there was a difference too. Horsepower…

The Shelby has an alluring call to it. You only have to look down at the Cobra on the steering wheel emblem to know that it, like the GN, is a breed all its own. From the fat steering wheel to the gauges, from the feel of the contoured seats to the view out over the slightly bulged and vented hood, you know that the GT500 is all business - at least 200 more HP of business - stock - versus the GN as it came from the factory.

And there is no denying that when you turn the key…

Since the door was still open, when I slid the key on into the cylinder, the gentle ‘pong’ of the chime began to politely remind me to close the door, strap in, and hold on. And by rotating the key, I brought to life the engine of the most powerful Mustang Ford had ever built.

The motor didn’t ‘start’ as much as it angrily exploded to life. In a very similar fashion to the way the Intercooled V6 in my GN had started earlier that morning, the 5.4 seemed as if it wanted to jump out of the K-member and smack down anything that dared challenge its authority. And the subtleness of the exhaust belied the explosive power being fired in the cylinders – it rumbled but not in an untoward way… just a muscular beat but without a lot of ‘cam-effect’ that had a very, very sinister tone to it.

At nearly the same time, I heard Brandon fire the GN. I looked over at him but couldn’t see inside the deeply tinted glass but I knew that he, just like me, had a silly but appreciative grin on his stupid mug.

I snugged up the seat/shoulder belt, depressed the clutch (and was pleasantly surprised at how ‘real’ it felt, not overly harsh but not like a marshmallow either), released the e-brake, snicked the shifter into first and began to pull away. The first impression I had of the power was the ease that the car pulled out – there didn’t seem to even be a chance of stalling the motor. I’ve driven Terminators and they can be a little finicky at low RPM’s and can even be stalled fairly easily if you don’t have enough “R’s” to keep the torque flowing.

That just didn’t seem to be the case with the Shelby. It almost felt as if I could hook onto a house and drag it behind me and to be able to say that about a Mod-Motor is saying something.

This motor felt STRONG.

Running it through the gears was uneventful and smooth all the while feeling as if I was guiding a hungry panther through a sea of gazelles. Even the shifter’s position was placed in a good place and wasn’t notchy or sloppy in the least. At one of the first lights I was stopped at, I happened to look over to my right and saw that Brandon was beside me with the window down, motioning for me to roll down mine.

Waiting for the light to change, he gave me the “So?” look.

I gave him the thumbs up – I definitely was impressed. This car feels powerful and in turn, makes the driver feel almost invincible. There’s only one other car I’ve driven that made me feel like that.

Yep. My GN.

By the time we got close to the Carwash, I was feeling pretty good about the shifter and shift points so I decided to wind it on out a bit since we were in a 45 mph zone. Once I pulled away from the light, I left it in first and gave the pony most of the go-pedal, immediately rewarded with a massive shove against my chest and pushing me back into the seat without manners. The tach swept upward in a dizzying pace and I short shifted at ~5500rpm, feeling the torque once more and hearing the big blower howl with impunity. Just as quickly, I let out of it and noticed that Brandon was way behind me. Looking down, I watched the speedo spiraling downward from almost 70 mph.
I knew then and there that the Shelby is no poseur, even with less than 50 miles on the clock at that point.

I rolled on into the car wash and let the car idle a bit as Brandon pulled on in beside me. We both shut down within seconds of each other and I got out shaking my head.

“Well? Whadaythink?”, he grinned once more.

“Brandon…. THAT is a car to be reckoned with. No doubt – she’s got the power and it isn’t even broken in yet. I have no doubt that it’s a solid mid-12 second or lower car as she sits right there. With traction, you might even be high 11’s…. and I don’t care what people say about its weight – it just does NOT feel like a heavy car.”

He just nodded in agreement, his goofy grin still trying to blind me.

“Yeah, B… you did good.” I couldn’t lie – I liked his car. And after all, how can a GN guy not like a black car with balls the size of coconuts?

As we swapped places, I looked back at the GT500. I had to admit to myself that I really DID like its looks. The understated ness of no stripes, no big massive fog lights in the grille, no big “Look at ME!” scoop on the hood… it was a modern day GN to be sure. And after the experiences I have had with the Terminators (my son owns a black ‘03 10 second street monster), I just KNEW that the Shelby was a valid heir to the throne that had yet to be vacated by the Terms.

Yep… there is going to be trouble on the streets when more of these bad-boys begin to prowl.

Brandon and Stacy jumped in the Cobra, waved goodbye and headed on over to B-dubs. I watched and listened as the pulled away and only had one thought….

I wanted to run that car with my GN. I just had to know how strong the Shelby really was. Little did I know that I would find out much sooner rather than later.


By the time I got to the restaurant, my wife was already there sitting with the crowd. The parking lot was so full, I didn’t even see Brandon’s car but I knew he was there because my wife had called me on the cell to see if I had ‘got lost’. When I told her about having to wash off the car, I could hear the ‘he’s so anal about keeping that car clean’ sigh I’ve heard a million times. Thankfully, I know she’s not TOO upset about it.

Making my way through the crowd, I finally spied the tables where we had gathered, not too far out from one of the big Plasma TV’s scattered about the noisy place. The smell of wings and brews was mixed in with the sights and sounds of a noisy restaurant holiday crowd; sounds of clanking glasses, silverware on plates, children squealing with delight over their desserts, and so forth – it felt nice. That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about the place – it just feels like home.

As I got closer to the table, I saw Brandon and Stacy to my wife’s right with the girls engaged in conversation. Brandon was jawing with a guy I hadn’t met before but that wasn’t unusual – Brandon never met a stranger. I swear – he just loves to talk. And 99.9% of the time, it’s about cars. Well, as long as Stacy wasn’t around. Then, it was usually about girls AND cars.

I decided to say hello. Anyone who could last more than a minute listening to Brandon talk about Fords was either A) a Ford lover too or, deaf. As I got closer Brandon, stood up and pulled up a chair for me to sit with him.

“Steve, this here is Ned. I met him today at the dealership and invited him to join us.”

Ned and I shook hands but for some odd reason, I got a weird vibe – sort of one of those strange, deja-vu experiences. Had I met this guy somewhere before? I just didn’t know... Odd… the guy just seemed to be a bit unfriendly I thought. Maybe it was just my imagination but something seemed a bit off-key. Where did I see him and when? But good ol’ Brandon broke that train of thought for me.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you but Ned here bought the first Shelby in the state. He got it up at Findlay – did you see it in the parking lot out there?”

“Nah, I didn’t. But I would like to have – I was sure impressed with yours so seeing another one would be icing on the cake.” I figured I would toss out a compliment and see if that broke the ice with Ned.

It didn’t. He didn’t say a word. No matter – Brandon had enough words for all three of us.

“Steve, his car is a Red one with white stripes. I gotta admit it – it’s pretty eye-catching. I can’t believe you didn’t see it out there. What side did you park on?”

“I parked out there on the Mall side away from everyone. Where did you guys park?”

Ned spoke. Yet, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why this guy seemed familiar.

“We parked across the street in the Lowe’s lot. I can’t believe you didn’t see my car, dude. Seems like everyone else has! Some clown in a Camaro ‘bout ran off the street just starin’ at the Shel!” and with that, he burst out in one of the most loud and obnoxious laughs I’ve ever heard. Some people jerked their heads around with odd looks on their face as if to ask, “Who let Mr. Ed in here?” But Mr. Ed, er, I mean Ned, didn’t let that stop him. Seemed like attention was the fuel that this guy needs.

“Of course, I’m used to it. Ever since I got the car back from the Tuner’s, it’s been getting a lot of attention. Just like it should – it’s the new sheriff in town now. When you leave, make sure you look at it – but take a napkin. I know you’re gonna drool.”

It was then that the memory smacked me hard! The word ‘Sheriff’ was the trigger.

National Trails drag strip in Columbus, about 8-9 years ago. He was banned from the track that year for having been caught tampering with his closest competitor’s car in the sportsman class. What the ‘tampering’ was had never been revealed (although there was a flurry of rumor about him loosening some lug nuts on a car) but the guy was a cheater and everyone in Columbus knew it. He disappeared from the area right after that and I had heard he had gone down south somewhere.

But I was there when the track officials confronted him that day in the staging lanes (I was two cars back from his supposed record-breaking car in the same lane) and ‘Ned’ laughed that same, egotistical laugh as he told the officials to take hike. Thankfully, they remained steadfast and called for the Sheriff to escort Mr. Ed from the premises, which they did. Some people said he made all sorts of threats about lawsuits and such but I never heard any more about the guy.

Until today. Yep, it was definitely one of THOSE days.

And now, here he was, back in the flesh, eating wings and drinking beer at the same table with me and B and our wives.

“Hey. Brandon here tells me you’ve got one of those old-school Buicks – is that right?” He seemed to even sneer as he asked the question.

“Yeah… it’s a GN.”

“Is it as fast as he says?” Hmm… where was this guy going? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, knowing what I already knew about him.

“Fast enough, I guess.”

“Maybe we oughta line ‘em up after the game. You know, sort of a friendly little race just to see how well Old School can do against New School. I promise – I won’t embarrass ya TOO BAD! Har-har-HAR!!!”

Brandon had the oddest look on his face, almost as if he just found out his fly was open. It was obvious he didn’t know his new ‘buddy’ was an first class jerk.

“Not today, Ned. Too much traffic and besides, I would rather race at the track. It’s much safer. Maybe next spring, huh? By that time, Brandon will have his car broken in and we can take the three of them.”

Ned’s face darkened. “Aw, c’mon Buick-boy. I won’t even put any money on it. We’ll just run for fun and I can show you we get it done with the blue oval these days.”

Ok. Now, I’m a little pissed. “Let’s see how late the game runs, ok Ed? (I purposely said his name wrong just to poke a stick in his blood-shot eye…)”

“It’s ‘NED’, not Ed. And ok, we’ll see. I’ve beat everything else I’ve ran against, might as well add a Buick to the list. HAR-HAR-HAR!!!”

I noticed that Brandon was strangely quiet up till then but he spoke. “Steve, let’s go up to the bar and see where our waitress is. I want to tell you something I read in the manual about my car anyhow…”

So, off Brandon and I went, trying to snake through the crowd. But as we got out of earshot of the table, he stopped me.

“Steve, first - this guy's a JERK! But beyond that - Ned’s car is serious business. It isn’t stock either. I know you were impressed with mine and it’s a bad boy all right. But Ned’s hasn’t just been tuned. It’s had a LOT of stuff done to it.”

“Like what?”

“Suspension work. A new blower and CAI. Gears and an aluminum driveshaft. ET Streets on aluminum wheels. Dyno tuned. And more. If he’s not lying, it’s supposedly putting down nearly 700 rwhp, if not more - you just don't know what to believe from this guy it seems. I just thought you should know – this isn’t a stock Shelby you’re looking to run.”

I nodded my head as I listened.

"But I will tell you this Steve - his Shelby DOES sound wicked. It makes mine sound like a kitten..."

Hmmm....

“Brandon, a lot of the time and as you know better than anyone, in a race, it isn’t how much dog is in the fight. It’s how much fight is in the dog. We’ll see how it goes… ok? I’m not afraid of his shiny new red car. I’ve been beaten by better guys a lot better of a man than him so even if I would race and lose, that’s no big deal. But I’ve also got a feelin’ that ol’ Ned doesn’t realize what I’ve got under the hood either. Did you tell him about my GN, about what I did to it?”

“Nah… only that you had a Turbo Buick. And when I did, he licked his lips like a dog thinking of a raw steak. But he doesn’t really know what you’ve got.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. At least for now…”


Brandon and I hung out at the bar for a minute or two until we found our waitress, ordered drinks and went back to our table. The girls were still talking a mile a minute and Ned had engaged another mutual friend that B and I both hung with from time to time – Jason. Even before we got to the table, we heard Ned’s obnoxious laugh (most likely at something he said that only HE thought was funny) – “Har-har-HAR!”

And it was true. Even as we sat down, Ned was regaling poor Jason about his new GT500 and how bad it was. We were fortunate enough to hear the repeat about the guy in the Camaro that ‘bout ran off the street just to get a good look at my Shel! Har-har-HAR!!”

Brandon looked at me with one of those “Good grief – is this guy for REAL?” looks. But Ned wasn’t about to let up now; not that he had an audience.

“Well, there ya are Buick Boy! Where ya been? Looking for more parts for your little V6? Har-har-HAR!”

The butt clown then slapped the table with his hand really hard for emphasis as he uncorked more of his ‘unique’ laughter at his own un-funny joke. Ok…. Enough was enough.

I leaned in towards him and just stared at him, unblinking. It took a second but Ned got the message. He shut his pie hole and just sneered a bit. I wanted to choke Brandon for inviting this guy but resisted the urge. But I also had something to say.

“You know, Ned… Brandon invited you hear out of the goodness of his heart – which is bigger than his brain, sometimes. But for you to talk smack and we don’t even really know each other seems pretty rude to me. Sure, you’ve probably got a shiny red car with cute stripes but still, it’s just a car. You like yours; I like mine so let’s leave it at that, ok? You’ve got a lot of nerve running your mouth here and not even knowing what it is you’re blabbing about so knock it off.”

Ned blinked. Most likely, very few people had ever spoke to him like that before but man, enough was enough. And I had had enough. Kelly, my wife, gave me one of her ‘Please don’t embarrass me!” looks and I smiled back at her.

Which, I don’t think helped. But I wasn’t going to stop now…

“Ed, everyone at our table is tired of your trying to be the center of attention. If you want to sit and have dinner with us, drink a couple of long-necks and have a good time, then you’re welcome to stay. But if this is gonna continue, why don’t you find another table because we’re tired of you and your act. You REALLY need to grow up.”

Sometimes, I surprise even myself. Brandon, for the first time since I had met him, was speechless. Angry at Ned, yes. But still, speechless.

I could see the red rise in Ned’s face and cheeks. I obviously had pushed a button or two.

“You know something, dude? I was just havin’ some fun and you go and get all pissy with me. Fine. I’ll head on out of this dump over to someplace that has people who can appreciate the opportunity to hang with someone like me. I was going to be nice and try to not embarrass you too bad whenever we run but no more. When we meet on the street or the track, I’m gonna bury you so deep, you will have to look up just to see your own ass. You have no clue who you are messin’ with, pal.”

“Oh, I am quite sure who you are Ned. I found out a lot about you when I watched you get escorted out of Columbus 8-9 years ago for cheating.”

Oh yeah. Shot, swish, point, game. I thought his face was red before but now, it was almost purple.

But to his credit, he just stood up, tossed a Twenty onto the table, and glared at me, his beady, rat-like features looking almost comical in the light.

However, he did have one more thing to add. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t said that, pal. Oh, how you are gonna wish that you had not said that…” He then spun on his heel and left.

Brandon, always the jester, broke the tension.

“Well, that went well, didn’t it? Sheesh… what a jerk!”

We all had a good laugh and the rest of the evening at the restaurant went as planned. I didn’t even care who won the game because I’ve never been a sports fan unless it was a sport performed a quarter mile at a time. But regardless, before we knew it, the girls were all clamoring to head home. But then, Stacy spoke – asked a question really.

“Steve? Do you think Ned is waiting on you? You know, to run?”

I hadn’t given it much thought I guess.

“Aw, Stacy, I doubt it. He’s probably over at the Macaroni Grille right now with all his peeps, sipping on some fancy drink with a little paper umbrella in it, and has forgotten all about any sort of race. Besides, it’s after midnight – it’s too late for any silly stuff now. I’ve been up since early this morning and I’m ready for some shuteye.”

My lovely wife nodded her sleepy little head in agreement. But Stacy brought us back to reality.

“I don’t know Steve. That guy doesn’t seem like the kind of person I would turn my back on and I think you really made him angry. You just might want to keep your eyes open is all I’m sayin’.”

“Thanks Stacy. I’ll keep that in mind. Brandon, you guys leaving now?”

He pulled Stacy close.

“Yeah, let’s head on out. I’ve gotta drive right by your place anyhow so I’ll be right behind you – I want you to tell me if my headlights are aimed too high or not anyways. This will give me a chance to see your tail lights because I’m sure it will be the only time I’ll see them when I’m in ‘my Shel’ – Har-har-HAR!”

We ALL got a belly laugh out of B’s impersonation (a bad one at that) of Ned. It was definitely the nightcap we needed. With that, out the door we went and into the cold night air.

Actually, it felt great being outside after being cooped up in the restaurant all evening. We walked out the opposite door (which was facing Lowe’s) I had come in earlier and it was then that we saw it – something was on Brandon’s windshield. We couldn’t make it out what it was but it kind of looked like a big piece of paper or something tucked beneath the wiper blade. Maybe a sales flier?

Instead of separating there and my wife and I going to our cars, we walked on across the street to see what was on B’s car.

It was a note.

From Ned.

And it wasn’t a nice one. Brandon read it aloud.

“Hey buddy. Tell your Buick Boy I’ll be waiting for him tonight down at Wink’s Drive-In. I’ll be there until around 12:30 and if his balls are as big as his mouth, he won’t avoid me. I’ve got something I want to show him. And if he DOESN’T show, I’ll find him. It may not be tonight or tomorrow, but I’ll find him. He can’t dodge me forever. Make sure you tell him.”

I just laughed. “Man, did this guy ever get past the 7th grade?”

But - Brandon was furious. First, because someone had the audacity to touch his car. Or, the wiper blade TO his car. But beyond that, he was mad because someone had called out his friend and – remember the loyalty thing I told you about earlier? – he wasn’t having anything of it.

“Steve, let’s go down there and show him what’s what! I want to rip his head off for even touching my car but I’ll agree to wait until after you hand him his butt with the GN first. Whadayasay?”

Stacy spoke as Kelly pulled up tight and increased her grip on my arm. “See Steve? See what I mean? This guy isn’t right and to make a threat like that? That’s scary!”

“Stacy, he’s just a punk and a bully and most likely isn’t used to people standing up to him. Don’t worry about. I’m sure he’ll crawl back under his rock and we won’t see him again.”

I had no more than said that, standing there in Lowe’s parking lot at nearly one o’clock in the morning with a cold breeze brushing my face when I heard it.

‘It’ was a car with a very, very loud exhaust slowing to a stop at the intersection about 200 yards from where we stood. We all turned at the same time to look and at first, we just thought it was another late model Mustang with some stripes slowing to stop. But THIS car was pretty loud; louder than any other mod-motor Mustang I had heard on the street.

“Steve? I think that that is Ned’s car…”

Brandon had said answered a question I had just formulated in my mind. It was definitely a Shelby.

Weird isn’t it? You can go for months and not see a rare performance automobile but then Bam! You see TWO of them in the same day??! Like I said – it was going to be one of THOSE days….

We watched the blinker of the Shelby come on as it stopped at the light. Oddly, the breeze that had been tousling our hair and nipping at our cheeks stopped blowing and the night seemed amazingly quiet.

The Shelby sat there at the light, idling with a very deep, ‘basso-profundo’ exhaust note. It was Red. It had white stripes and it definitely had aftermarket wheels.

It HAD to be Ned’s car. And it was getting ready to turn into Lowe’s parking lot.

“This is gonna be interesting”, I said.

“Let’s go, Steve. You don’t need to get into a fight with an idiot tonight, ok?”, said Kelly, not sounding like she really meant it. Later, I found out that even SHE wanted a piece of Ned – but that too is another story.

So, we watched the Shelby idle. I could imagine how it’s turn signal flasher sounded after having driven Brandon’s car only hours earlier…

“Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…“

We watched the opposing lane’s light illuminate the caution.

Still, I could hear in my head that eerie blinker sound in concert with the exhaust note from from Pro-Stock Hell... “Tinka… tinka…. Tinka… tinka… tinka…. Badda – ba- badda – badda, badda – ba….“

The light changed and the events of the night were now set in motion.

The Shelby pulled into the lot, its front valance nearly scraping the inclined approach, Ned feathering the exhaust and the clutch to keep what sounded like a HIGHLY modified GT500 motor from stalling.

Clearing the opening, the Shelby accelerated quickly towards us, angling across the parking lot and ignoring the lines and lane striping. Straight at us it began to hurdle, sounding like it was still in first gear and flying now, covering the distance in the blink of an eye.

And just as quickly and loudly as he arrived, Ned slammed on the brakes to stop oh-so-melodramatically, his window down.

He shut off the Shelby and it was oddly quiet again. Off in the distance, we could still hear some of the noises from the restaurant and the sounds of cars being started to leave. Normal cars; not cars like the Devil Red Mustang in front of us.

A train’s horn sounded far, far off….

I just looked at Ned and grinned. Brandon went to step towards him but I put my arm in front of him to stop him. Surprising, he stopped.

Ned spoke, clearly proving he was a disturbed man.

“So… where y’all been? I’ve been waiting for ya down at Winks, telling everyone how some fool in an old Buick was challenging me to a run. But I told them that I knew you wouldn’t show up. And, you didn’t. Probably for the best there pal, doncha think?”

He tried to grin but it was obvious - he didn’t know how. He just had some odd look on his contorted face as if he meant to pass gas but got a surprise instead.

“Go on home, Ned. There’s not going to be any racing tonight. Like I said in there (nodding towards B-Dubs) – let’s get together next spring at the track and we’ll have a go at it.”

He was shaking his head before I even finished.

“Oh, no-sir-ree, Buick Boy. We’re gonna dance – tonight. I saw your car over there in the lot when I left so I know it’s here. Let’s line ‘em up down there at the light and I’ll show you why you’ve made a big mistake.”

“No, Ned. Not tonight. Next spring. C’mon guys, let’s go.”

With that, Ned shook his head angrily but still started his car. I turned my back on Ned walked back towards Brandon’s Shelby and heard Ned leave back out the way he came in. Stacy and B went ahead and got in the car and Kelly and I turned to cross the street just as I heard Stacy yell out her window before Brandon started his car.

“Watch out for him, Steve. He’s trouble.”

I thought for a moment and then answered.

“You know, Stacy? I think you might just be right. I’ll keep my eyes open… g’night.”

As I walked Kelly to her car, neither of us spoke. Sheesh… what a day, I thought to myself. Just a little drive home and then a nice, warm shower and on to bed. At least THIS day was over - finally. I kissed Kelly a quick good-bye kiss and headed on over to the GN, glad it was over indeed.

It wasn’t until a few short moments later that I realized just how wrong I really was….


Kelly pulled out of the parking lot just ahead of me, her ’05 GTO’s lights leading the way. We headed on down Market, winding our way through town. I had kicked on the stereo and was just about to scan the channels when a traffic light separated us – she made it through but I was a little too far behind her to make the caution. No biggie – I just slowed to a stop with Brandon and Stacy behind me. While I waited for the light to change I hit the ‘Scan’ button on the faceplate.

I glanced ahead and saw Kelly’s tail lights slowly fading in the distance. Then, I saw the brake lights come on along with the right turn signal as she was turning onto Arlington, the road that eventually took us out to near where we live.

Since the intersection was a four-lane with a turn lane, it took a couple of minutes for the lights to cycle through, obviously not having vehicle detection built in to the logic. I heard the radio skip through a couple of stations when I heard a loud engine noise to the rear and right of my car. Still waiting for the “Green”, I craned my neck around and back to see what it was that sounded like someone trying to blow their motor. I knew it wasn’t Brandon – his car was too new for him to be playing Rev-King games. When I glanced in the passenger’s side door mirror, I got my answer.

It was Ned who had just jumped out of an alleyway and was coming up to a stop beside me. Oddly, I felt a chill down my spine – not out of concern about a race but rather out of concern for Ned’s mental state. First of all, he was definitely abusing the crap out of the Shelby. It sounded like he even bounced the rev limiter when he bolted from the alleyway. And then, he downshifted it and dumped out the clutch as he came to a stop beside me, to my right. All of this was within 10 seconds or so.

He had his window down and I could see that he was smoking a cigarette; one of those ‘funny-looking’, hand rolled jobs. So, that explained a lot of the attitude tonight – alcohol and weed are a bad mix. He motioned furiously for me to roll down my window, continuing to rev his car as he did so.

I rolled it down.

“Let’s go, Buick Boy. Let’s go – right here, right now. There are no cops around, no traffic. Let’s run ‘em right NOW, funnyman! C’MON! LET”S GO!!!”

For just a second, I gave a thought to doing so but I also knew that I would regret it, either way. Sheesh… what a way for the night to end. I glanced in the rear view mirror and wondered what Brandon was thinking about this turn of events. I would find out a little later.

“Ned, settle down. I told you – I don’t race on the street. Go home and sleep it off. Tomorrow, you’ll be glad you didn’t do something so stupid.”

That only infuriated him more.

“F*ck you, pal! LET’S GO!” More revs, more sounds like he was trying to shoot the blown 5.4 out the hood of the gorgeous car. The motor sounded way too healthy to ignore and to assume it would be an easy race.

I said earlier that my GN was an 11 second ride. Well, that is true. It WAS an 11 second car – what it was now I didn’t know for sure. I hadn’t had it to the track since I had put the built Stage II in it. To be honest, I had yet to run the car for a full run so I just wasn’t sure.

But my car wasn’t 100% in Kill Mode either. I knew the alcohol tank was low but I didn’t think it was empty. The air pressure in the Nitto’s was probably in the low 20’s and not in the upper teens where I set it when I run. On a cold street, I doubted if adequate traction could be had. Of course, ol’ Ned would have the same problem so…

Why NOT?

I didn’t answer him. I first hit the switch to open the cutout – gotta love the solenoid operated cutout option I had installed. The sound and attitude of the Buick went from quietly powerful to serious business.

It was now officially “Go-time”….

I then hit the line-lock and set about doing a short burnout, right there on Market Street at one in the morning with no other traffic in sight. Looking over at Ned, I saw him grin and then yell something back over the noise of the engines and then roll his window back up but I couldn’t make out what he said exactly. I heard him rev and dump the clutch a couple of times to clean his tires. In my mirror I saw Brandon back up a bit, cut over around us and run the light to get down the road a ways to watch. Again – no cops in sight, no traffic in this part of town at the moment….

I released the line lock, pulled up a little closer to the intersection as did Ned…. I set the trans-brake… Ned picked up some revs…. I began to boost the Stage II, 2psi… 3 psi… 4 psi… 6 psi… lights are cycling… I’m pushing up against the 3200 rpm converter…

The Shelby is now screaming in my right ear. I have no idea what Ned has the rpms at but it is way up on the tach I’m sure. He’s going for a banzai launch… but so am I.

The Stage Motor hits 8psi of boost just as the opposing lane’s light goes from yellow to red. In a split second, our lane goes –

GREEN!

We both launch together, rocketing forward and I am absolutely crushed into the seat as I note the front end lift and the steering goes unbelievably light as the front tires nearly lose full contact with the pavement. Thanks to the suspension mods, there is no torque twist of the car – it shoots out straight and true, fender to fender with the radical Shelby.

But the Shelby is absolutely screaming in anger now and Ned grabs the gears better than Even Smith. The GT500 doesn’t miss a beat and we’re STILL as if welded together as I feel the 1-2 shift of my tranny, the front end bolting upward just a bit as it does.

Thankfully, we’ve now passed the last houses on that part of Market. I try to scan the gauges but am absolutely overwhelmed at the sheer, raw power and noise that both of these cars are making. It is too close to tell who – if either – is ahead; the Shelby is not giving an inch but neither is the Stage II. Everything seems to become a blur that is moving so fast it’s almost as if it’s in slow motion.

As the 2-3 shift comes up, I sense that the GN is ever-so-slowly inching ahead just by the slightest of margins. But then - I hear a LOUD bang to my right, catch a glimpse of what looked to be the hood flying up and off the car like a leaf in the wind, and see a flash of light as the Shelby suddenly drops behind as if an anchor was tossed out. I back out of the accelerator and look in the rear view mirror to see what happened.

Just as quickly, I wish I hadn’t.

In unbelievably slow motion, I see the Shelby’s striped hood floating back to earth while at the same time I see flames licking out of the GT500’s engine compartment. There is no way that Ned could see out the front window – it looks to be a massive fuel/oil fire.

But then, to make matters worse, the Shelby suddenly yaws left and then back right, as if the rear brakes had locked up and then it goes into a sideways skid, off the road to the right.

At what had to be still at least 60 mph if not more with the driver’s side leading the way…

My foot is on the brake hard as I watch the Red Mustang sliding in my rear view mirror…the front wheels hitting the stoned area just at the edge of the road… stones and dirt and dead grass flying up for a moment… enormous blue/red/yellow/white/orange flames dancing devilishly from the nose of the car… the rear end trying to pass the front end of the Shelby… I see the nose dip down as the forces of physics draw the car down into the ditch… more grass and dirt and debris being blown up and about… eerie lights and shadows playing about the roadway…

And then I witness the sickening sight of the Shelby hitting the power pole on its driver side – how near the door I could exactly see - with enough deadly force to wrap the car nearly around it. The dust and debris still fill the air but the flames are building even more….

I slam the GN into a power turn and race back there with Brandon and Stacy right with me… We bail out of the cars and run upward, me with the extinguisher I grabbed from the mount on the rear floorboard of the Buick…

I try to knock down the fire and have only enough success to slow it down for a bit as Brandon tries to rip the driver’s door open… Ned is slumped in the seat; a huge gash visible on the left side of his head… the flames beginning to build again as Brandon smashes the window of the door that unbelievably did not break in the crash… Stacy is screaming while she dials 911 on her cell…
It’s only going to be a matter of time before the Shelby explodes… fire is trying to work its way back underneath the car but thankfully, the fuel tank held – for now…

The extinguisher is empty… I run to the passenger’s side and that’s when I see the girl moving her mouth as if to scream but no sounds can be heard… she’s hysterical and blood is streaming from her mouth and nose… her eyes are huge with fear and she’s trying to loosen her seat belt but for some reason, it won’t release… I see that she’s got a five-point on and for some odd reason she’s feeling along the edge of the seat… I smash the window with the empty extinguisher…

In the distance, we can hear sirens begin to wail… possibly coming our way?

The heat is building… the flames are coming back stronger than ever…

Brandon is leaning in the driver’s window and is trying to free Ned from his five point but Ned is not moving. For all we know, he’s dead… we just can’t tell… seconds are going by… the heat is building…

I hit the release on the girl’s five point and suddenly she’s screaming loudly in my ear, begging me to pull her through the window – the door will NOT open due to the body damage… I grab her under her arms and pull but she only gets part of the way out…

The smell of burning plastic, paint, oil… insulation… it’s overwhelming now… I finally get the girl out of the car and surprisingly, she takes off running… Stacy goes after her as I race around to the other side of the car to try and help Brandon…

I see Brandon straining and straining and pulling and tugging, trying to extricate Ned from the Shelby… Ned’s head is just flopping about but Brandon does have him almost out of the car… I see foamy blood from his nostrils but it does appear that he’s breathing…

Finally, Ned is free… his feet slide down the side of the door… multiple siren sounds are getting louder and louder… Stacy catches the girl and holds her close, their silhouettes visible against the back light of the town we just left as she tries to bring her back and around the wreck… with Brandon carrying Ned’s torso and me lifting his legs/feet, we get Ned safely away from the Shelby and over onto the grass near where the GN is parked…

The Shelby doesn’t explode but it burns frantically, its headlights are still on and mysterious groans and hisses emanate from the burning hulk… the fire department and EMS services arrive… firemen attack the burning car… EMT’s and Paramedics run over to us with wheeled stretchers and orange emergency kits, asking us who is hurt… they see Ned is seriously hurt and two of them get to work on him immediately…

Police cars pull up, their blue and red lights swirling and dancing about the fields… reflecting off of street signs, the cars, our faces… life is blurring again… I realize that I’m exhausted and tears are in my eyes as the reality of what just happened hits me like a train from behind… I see the EMT’s doing CPR on Ned, intubating his airway… the defibrillator is pulled from the closest ambulance and ran over as the lead Paramedic rips Ned’s shirt open…

“CLEAR!” I hear the EMT yell as the paddles are rubbed together and then slapped onto Ned’s very white chest… I see Ned’s body jump as the jolt of electricity tries to get his heart out of ventricular fibrillation… Again, “CLEAR!”… ZAP!.... his body jumps again…

“I’ve got a pulse! Let’s load and go – NOW! We may not get him back if he goes again!”…

Cars are now coming from everywhere… ambulances and sirens are magnets to those who are curious… Stacy continues to hold the girl’s hand as a female EMT does a first assessment of her condition…

I realize that I am shaking… and that I miss my wife, Kelly… and that I wish this day had never started…

Brandon comes over and puts his arm around my shoulders… we just stand there, absorbing what has happened but not understanding it…

It was not turning out to be a very good day at all… and it was already two days long…

Just then, I heard, “STEVE! Are you ok?!” It was Kelly – she had seen the lights and since I had never made it home she came back…

She came running up, grabbed me around the waist and hugged me… it was about the best thing I could think of happening at that point in this very, very bad day…

And I didn’t even know or care how tomorrow might be…. Looking back, it was probably best that I didn’t…


The next morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table sipping on a very hot cup of black coffee and smearing some butter on the pancakes that Kelly had just fixed for us when the doorbell rang. As I got up to go answer it, I noticed the Sheriff’s cruiser in the drive that neither of us had heard pull in. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling that today wasn’t going to be any better than the yesterday.

Opening the door, I recognized Jim, a former neighbor who served on the department. Jim had a pretty straight face on when I invited him in.

“’Mornin’, Steve. ‘Mornin’, Kelly… I hate to bother you guys on a weekend but I’ve got some questions I need to ask you about last night’s accident. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure Jim. Just pull up a chair at the table. Want some coffee and pancakes?” My wife is always the hostess – even if our visitor was Bin Laden, I’m sure she would offer him some food.

But Jim politely declined, waving his big meaty hand that was holding his flat-rimmed hat in the air.

“Nah, Kelly. I’ve already ate. This shouldn’t take too long and I’ll get on out of here and let you enjoy your breakfast.”

I could see Jim waffling (pardon the pun) about the coffee though. Kelly DOES make the best coffee around.

“Ok, Kelly… go ahead. I guess I’ll take a cup of coffee if you’ve got enough. It sure DOES smell good…”

In a flash, she had it poured and the wonderful smell of fresh coffee rose from the steamy liquid’s surface like fog off a lake. Jim took a delicate sip, careful not to burn his tongue, sat the cup down and pulled a small tablet out of his breast pocket.

“Sure is good, Kel! Ok… let’s get this over with…Here’s the first question…”

For the next 20 minutes, Jim basically just asked us about the previous evening and what transpired. Not once did he broach the subject of street racing but I felt that sooner or later, he was going to ask me about it.

As he wound down, he finally sat the tablet and pen on the table, picked up the cup of coffee and in one long drink, finished it off. He sat upright and leaned forward and looked me straight in the eye.

“Steve… I’ve only got one last question. Were you racing this guy? I don’t have any eyewitnesses who say that is the case and even the girl that was in the car with this Ned fellow says he wasn’t racing, that it was just an accident. So, tell me – were you racing?”

Damn. Just when I thought he was going to ignore the obvious, he surprised me.

“Jim, before I answer that, I need to know how Ned is doing.”

Jim looked at his hat as he twirled it on his hand in sort of an awkward manner.

“Ned’s going to be fine. He was banged up pretty bad and had a broken bone in his left wrist but considering how his new Mustang looked, he’s lucky to be alive. Investigators said he hit the pole sideways, doing something like 60mph… if his car had hit farther back on the driver’s side, he would probably be dead. But it looks like he’s gonna be ok. He’s supposed to get out of the hospital later today. The girl was fine; nothing other than a few scrapes and some bruises. Just goes to show you how well these new cars are built.

So… were you racing?”

I figured honesty has always been the best policy and I sure didn’t want to be found out later that I was lying during the course of an investigation.

“Yeah, Jim. I was. I know it’s wrong but I was definitely racing him.”
Jim just looked down at the floor for a moment. He seemed to be thinking about what to say next…

“Well, Steve… our friendship goes back a long way so I’m not going to lecture you. Since I didn’t see it and since no one has come forward to make a statement that you two were letting it all hang out, I’m going to act like I didn’t hear what you just said. But I’ve got to tell you this, Steve - if I see you so much as chirping the tires in that Buick of yours, I’m gonna run you in, you got it? Street racing is illegal and dangerous, as you two clowns proved last night. Both of you could be dead right now along with some innocent driver or pedestrian. So take it to the track, ok?”

Whew…. I sighed to myself. I was thinking that Jim was going to write me up for a real nose-bleed of a ticket. I was very, very lucky. I just nodded agreement…

“One other thing, Steve…”

“Yeah, Jim?"

“Were you winning?”

I paused for a moment, appreciating the fact that Jim too is a motorhead and a drag race fan.

“Yeah… but not by much if at all and we still had more to go. Ned’s Shelby is – er, WAS – pretty bad ass. You know my GN doesn’t have the original motor in it right now, don’t you? I put that Stage 2 mill in that I built last year. But even with the Stage motor, that Shelby had enough mods itself that it was really too close to call. I can’t really say if the race had gone the full distance who would have won.”

Jim shook his head in amazement.

“By the way, did you guys find out what happened? What caused the Ford to lose it?” I was definitely curious as to what happened.

“Well, we’re still investigating it but it looks like the nitrous backfired somehow through the blower but the explosion blew the blower off the engine, taking the hood with it. According to Carol – the girl in Ned’s car – when the hood – it was a fiberglass one by the way - blew off, Ned jerked the wheel to the right and lost control, going into a slide. It also looked like the motor might have seized and with the clutch still engaged, the rear tires just lost traction.

Like I said, we’re still investigating it but it looks like he basically blew the motor up, lost control, hit a pole, totaled the car, and is damn lucky to be alive this morning. Oh – one more thing…”

“What?”

“He wanted me to ask you to give him a call. Here’s his home number… he didn’t say what he wanted you to call him for… just that you should give him a call tomorrow sometime.”

“Ok, Jim. I’ll do that. Anything else?”

“Nah, Steve, Kelly… that’s pretty much it. Ned’s insurance has already been contacted and he claims he’ll get another car out of it. I guess EVERY one involved was pretty lucky last night. You guys take care. Kelly? Thanks for the coffee. And Steve? Remember what I said about taking it to the track, ok? I’d hate to have to scrape you up off the road.”

With that, Jim left. Kelly looked at me with one of those patented, “I TOLD you so” looks.

“See Steve? See why I’ve been telling you to get your head out of your butt about this racing on the streets? That could be YOU laying up there in the hospital, with more serious injuries than a broken wrist. Promise me – you won’t race on the street anymore, ok?”

I pulled her in close and gave her a hug. How could I resist?

“Sure, Kel… I promise…”

Even as we kissed, we both knew I was lying…

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Later that afternoon, I finally got out in the garage and under the hood of the GN. It didn’t look any worse for the wear following the previous night’s events but as I was checking the oil, I thought I saw something on the floor beneath the engine.

Something… shiny… and wet.

Putting the dipstick back in, I grabbed the flashlight off the bench and knelt down in front of the grille. Flicking the switch on, I shined the light back under the car, not seeing anything at first.

But then – it caught my eye. There was definitely a puddle of liquid; maybe even two. Due to the angle, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from so after putting the flashlight back, I grabbed the floor jack and axle stands and got the car up in the air.

Lying back on the creeper, I glided back under the car with the flashlight in hand once more. I examined the puddle closely and smeared some of the fluid on my fingers. Bringing them up to the light, my heart sank.

Oil. And lots of it… and right beside it, almost mixing in with the oil, was a slightly smaller puddle of antifreeze.

Double Damn!

Where the hell could it be coming from? Twisting back over on the creeper, I cast the light up into the dark recesses of the underside of the engine bay, looking for a tell-tale drip or run.

It didn’t take long to find where it LOOKED like the oil was coming from - the passenger’s side of the block, possibly from around the front corner area above the pan. Not a good sign… The Antifreeze source took a little longer but ended up being just a bad thermostat gasket that was seeping and letting the fluid drip on down to the floor. But the oil leak worried me.

Three hours later, I came to a bad conclusion – the motor was going to have to come out of the car. After tearing off nearly the entire front end of the motor, it appeared that there was either a leaky pan gasket or more likely a small crack in the block casting. I just couldn’t be sure without pulling the motor so rather than guess, I slid back out from under the car and went inside to see if I could get Brandon on the phone.

Luckily, B was available and came on over. As soon as he got there, he slid under the GN and then slid back out with the same opinion – the motor needed to come out of the car.

Sheesh… here was yet again ANOTHER one of the ‘those’ days…

A few hours later and after several scraped and bloodied knuckles, a couple of large pepperoni pizzas and some sodas, the Stage motor was out of the car and on the stand. Parts and tools were scattered all about the floor of the garage, tagged and identified for return back to the car. Sure enough, there looked to be a small, hairline crack just above the bolt hole for the pan mounting that was allowing some oil seepage. Only after complete disassembly could I be sure but it didn’t look good.

Damn, damn, damn… what a sucky weekend….

Thankfully, I still had the original motor on a stand under plastic in the corner of the garage. It was all stock internals but did have a TE-60 turbo, 009’s, etc and had propelled the car to the to a best ET of high 11’s but still had some room in it I felt.

After some debate, B and I decided, “Why not?” So, we set into another wrench fest with a fury and in a few more hours had the GN’s original motor back in the car. Thankfully, everything went back in with not much hassle. After a few spins of the starter, the 3.8 fired off and settled into a nice staccato rhythm of exhaust noise, the exhaust still not hooked up to the Downpipe. Kelly had given up a few hours before but I had no doubt that she had to have heard the motor fire – it was after midnight and in the cold night air, the little V6 sounded like a Top-fueler in the pits at the US Nationals.

For the first time that day, I think I finally smiled.

“You know, Steve – I never liked that Stage






I wiped my hands on one of those orange shop towels – you know, the ones that come in a bag of 100 or so and put off enough of the pesky orange lint when they’re new to make a large rug – and took the phone from Kelly.

“Hello?”

“Steve? This is Ned… *cough*… how ya doin’?”

“Well, from what I hear, better than you. At least I’m not in the hospital – how are YOU doing?” I was genuinely curious because he sounded pretty good for having just wrapped a new High-dollar Shelby Mustang around a power pole.

“*Cough*… Not too bad, I guess… I’ve got a broken left wrist, a couple of busted ribs, and feel like I’ve been ran over by a semi load of illegal immigrants but other than that, I sure can’t complain. Although I don’t think I’ll probably ever Vickie back in a car with me again.”

Apparently, that was the girl who went for the joy ride of HER life that night. I don’t remember if we got her name or not…

“Ned, a deputy was here and asked me questions about the crash… I told him we weren’t racing – at least, officially that is. Did you talk to them?” I knew he had based on what Jim told me but I still didn’t trust this guy.

“Yeah, they were here for quite a while last night and again this morning. Asked me and Vickie about the same thing; whether we were racing, who *cough* we were racing, and so forth. Got all my insurance info – god, there’s gonna be a helluva rate-hike on this deal – and such but really, he didn’t cite *cough, cough* me for anything. They believed what I told them and that was that the motor locked up due to mechanical failure, the clutch was engaged, the rear tires locked at the same time… and so I slid into the pole. I was just damned lucky the car didn’t hit a few more inches rearward or I would be wearing a dirt suit today…. *cough… cough, cough*”

I found myself nodding… that was probably one of the worst wrecks I’ve seen and for him to not get killed was a miracle.

He continued…

“Steve, that isn’t the reason I’m calling you though.”

Ok, here it comes…

“Ok, Ned. Then why DID you call?” I must admit that listening to his annoying cough was much better than that “Har-HAR-HAR” horse-laugh of his.

“Steve, I want to race you again. I really think I was pulling you and had you beat but when the engine backfired up through the blower – I think the NOS was a bit too much or I lost fuel – it was all over. Would you be interested in running me again when I get my new car?”

I thought for a moment… I also noticed Kelly and Brandon standing there watching my face for some sort of clue as to why ol’ Ned was calling. I didn’t think agreeing to another street race would have gone over well.

“Ned, I’ve got to be honest. I screwed up by just racing you that night. I told you at the restaurant as well as there on the street that we should just wait and go to the track but you goaded me into it and look what happened. On top of that, I found a problem with the mill in my car and Brandon and I just finished pulling it out this evening and putting the other mildly modded stock-blocker back in. So, really, I’m not interested in another street race for both of those reasons.”

There was a long pause at the end of the line. Oddly, I felt like I could feel anger in the silence…

“Listen, pal… I was pulling your Buick and you know it. If you want to leave it like that we both know that I was winning and that’s cool. I’m just offering you a chance to try and redeem yourself, maybe make up for being part of the problem that night.”

I felt my face flush with anger. The nerve of this clown! First of all, saying he was pulling me and secondly, blaming me for his own stupidity.

Pausing, I decided not to reply in kind. After all, ol’ Ned might just be a little heavy on the Vicodin talking. Or not.

“Ned, I’m not street racing you again. And with the shape you’re in plus the fact you don’t even have a running car, on top the fact you’re probably a little spacey – understandably so – from the pain killers, I’m going to ignore the tone of your voice. But no – I’m not interested in racing you and for the record, you weren’t pulling ANYone, pal. I had you and you know it. You stayed on the Nitrous too long or something – it wasn’t my fault. But the bottom line is that YOU were the one being pulled.”

More silence. I could hear some shuffling around and some more *coughs*. Finally he spoke again. This time, it was like he flipped a switch.

“Sorry Steve, it might be the drugs talking. I gotta disagree with your opinion as to who was winning but that’s not important – we just didn’t get to finish the race, right? So let’s finish it and then we’ll both know. How about we hook up together the next warm spell out at the track? Bernie Niswager is the owner and a close personal friend of mine *cough*… I know he’ll open it up anytime I ask. I’ll pay the rental fee and we can get several runs in. Maybe even invite some friends too, whadayasay?”

Wow. When Ned flips a switch, he seems to pull the breaker too. This made me all the more wary.

“Hold on, Ned…”

I put the phone on “Hold” and brought Kelly and Brandon up to speed. They looked like they could just burst from waiting to find out what he wanted and after seeing me get pissed off, they were all the more curious.

After I explained it, I got the expected responses. Kelly said an emphatic “You’re crazy to even be on the same piece of highway as that nut job” opposed by Brandon’s, “Hell yeah! Run that bastard and show him what your car will do.” I looked back at Kelly, hoping she might give in after hearing B’s answer and seeing my face.

She did.

“Aw go ahead. As long as it’s on a track though, ok? You’re done street racing, Mario…” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and exited the garage….

I clicked the phone off “Hold”.

“Ok, Ned… here’s what I’ll do. We’ll go when the next warm spell comes along and after you’re all healed up. You sure don’t need to be driving in your condition... If you can get another car by then, fine then we’ll race. If not, let me know when you’ve got one and we’ll give ‘er a try – IF it’s warm enough, IF we can run at the track, and IF everything is legit. But here’s the other part of the deal – no NOS, no monster blower or crap like you did to your last one. My GN is now in street kill mode with a bolt-on modified stock motor. It should be a mid 11 car or so. From what I’ve read about the Shelby’s, with traction and a few bolt-on’s equivalent to what I’ve done, you should be able to be the same. Let’s see what we can do then, ok?”

“*Cough… cough..* Har-HAR-HAR! Now THAT’s the spirit Steve… let’s have some fun. But beyond that, I look forward to running that old car of yours… for more reasons that you really need to know. For now, that is… *cough*”

I didn’t bother asking him what that meant. More vicodin-speak was my guess.

“Ned… let’s try and get some other cars to come too. I know Brandon would like to run his completely stock Shelby and I’ve got some buddies just itching to get on the track one more time but we all figured it was done till spring. Do you care if they come too?”

*CLICK* The switch seemed to flip again…

“Look Steve… bring all the witnesses you want. Sure, they can run. But they can’t run you until AFTER I do. Otherwise, we’ll wait for another time. Sooner or later, we’ll meet on the street again…”

“Ned, no need to space out here… ok?” Man, this guy is nuttier than my grandma’s fruitcake.

“Let me know when you’re up to it, ok?”

“Oh, Steve… it won’t be as long as you think... *cough*” Of course, I doubted he would remember half the conversation by morning.

“Sure Ned. Whatever… I’m usually off weekends but I need to know by a Thursday at the latest so I can make plans with my wife if we don’t go. So, you let me know.”

“Fine. I’ll be in touch… Oh – and one more thing.”

“What’s that, Ned?”

“I’ve already got me another car. It will be here Wednesday.”

Now, how in the hell did he get another Shelby that quick? I bit…

“How, Ned? How in the hell could you get another GT500 bought that quickly?”

“I didn’t go buy it. I already had it at home. The one I wrecked is one of three that I own and actually is sort of the middle-of-the-road, performance wise. I guess you missed the part about me being real good friends with the dealer, huh? Money talks, pal – bullsh!t walks. I’ve got the coin and I’ve got the cars. My black one is the one that bites the most. Evolution performance tuned it for me and it should be off the transporter later this week. Maybe someday, you can race it too. But you’ll need a couple more cylinders to play in its league! Har-HAR-HAR!!! *cough* See ya when it’s warm, ok?”

“Click”

He hung up. I guess for me, the biggest shock of the entire day was learning that there was a person on the face of this earth that had (or at least CLAIMED to own) 3 of one of the rarest cars in the universe right now.

I couldn’t help wonder what the other two were like…especially the black one.

I quickly filled Brandon in on the balance of the conversation and watched HIS jaw drop as much I’m sure mine did when I told him about Ned’s claim of owning two more Shelby’s.

“Man, I had no clue, Steve. I knew he said he bought the red one at Findlay but I do believe he’s got some seriously deep pockets. You should see the pics he was flashing around of his house and garage – man, he’s makin’ it somehow… and THREE Shelby’s? His garage must be loaded!”

I nodded my head. Knowing what I knew about Ned, I doubt if it was a good work ethic that ‘earned’ what he had. But hey, I didn’t know that for sure so I just bit my tongue.

“You know something, though B?”

“What’s that, Steve?” he answered grinning, knowing where I was going.

“He doesn’t know what I’ve got in MY garage either though, does he?” I just grinned back.

I reached up and began turning off the lights in the garage, listening to Brandon putting the tools back in their places, the clanking of the steel on steel a reassuring sound for some odd reason. You can always count on the right tool to do the job...

“I’ve got to get some shut-eye, B… I’ll give you a call tomorrow or the next day, ok? If you hear something let me know and I’ll do the same.”

I knew Brandon was as tired as me. He just nodded agreement, tossed his soda can in the recyclables container, and headed out the garage with a wave. I went on in and grabbed a quick shower before collapsing in bed beside my wife… mercifully, sleep came quickly…

* * * * * * * *
_________

Later the next day, just as I was beginning to pull into the garage in my wife’s GTO (I had to take it by the dealer on the way home from work for a look at what appeared to be leaking struts), my cell phone rang. Hearing the distinct Ford Mustang Exhaust ring tone I had downloaded for Brandon’s calls, I knew it was him.

“What’s up, B?” I asked.

“Steve, you’ll never guess what I just found out. I can’t believe it myself…”

Hmmm… Brandon doesn’t usually sound THIS excited.

“Ok, bud. What’s the scoop?”

“Well, I was down at the dealer’s this afternoon to pick up some filters for the Mustang when in comes this drop dead gorgeous brunette. I mean G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S! And she’s standing there talking to the service writer and I’m just trying to listen to her silky smooth voice when I notice her pointing outside and talking about her car. I slide away from the counter and look outside and what do I see? An honest to god, Ford GT, Steve! A red with white striped Ford GT! You know – the $165k jobs? This sweet thing was driving this GT!”

I still didn’t get what had him so excited other than maybe not getting out much?

“Ok, Brandon. A Ford GT. Cool. But man, we’ve seen a few of the around and even sat in that one down at Dayton a few months ago. Big deal. So why all the excitement?”

“Oh, Steve… you are not going to believe this. This lady begins giving her info and keys to the service guy and he asks her to spell her last name, and she seems all upset or something. Even sounded like she was crying... So, she does… R-e-y-n-o-l-d-s…. Mira Reynolds. Well, that kind of catches my ears because that is the same last name as old Ned. Remember? Ned Reynolds.”

“Ok, B. But I thought he was single and-“ Brandon cut me off…

“Steve, you’re not letting me finish. I heard her clearly tell the service writer that she was Ned Reynolds’ wife! Well that sure caught my attention! I know that the girl with him in the car the other night was NOT this lady. But even THAT is not the big news… man, let me get a drink of water… hang-on, ok?”

What in the world had Brandon so wound up? Just then, I saw Jim in his cruiser slowing down for my driveway with his blinker on, preparing to pull in.

“Steve, I’m back. I found out why she seemed upset. I first thought it might have been something to do with her being Ned’s wife and him being out with that girl?”

“Ok?”

“But bro, that isn’t it. She actually begins to sob a bit…”

Jim shuts off his car, steps from the big black Crown Vic and dons his Sheriff’s hat and begins to walk on up the drive as I hold the cell phone to my ear…

“She tells the service writer that her husband just died this morning….”

What? I couldn’t have heard him right, did I? Is he saying what I thought he was saying?

“Brandon, you must be mixed up. Ned Reynolds is not married, nor could he have died this morning. I just talked to him less than 36 hours ago and he sounded fine.”

“Steve… it’s true. I made a couple of calls after getting more info from the service writer. Ned died this morning, supposedly due to complications from the broken ribs and his lungs… seems he drowned in his own blood before they could rescue him…”

The color washed from my face and even though it was cold outside, I felt even colder inside. How could this be? Ned? Dead?

[enigmadsm]

“Steve, ya got a few minutes? I need to go over your statement again…” It was Jim this time…

“Brandon, I’ve gotta go. Jim’s here and I imagine it’s about what you just told me…” We exchanged quick good-byes and I flipped the phone closed and into my pocket.

“Sure Jim… is this about Ned?”

“Well, sort of Steve. But it’s also about you and what really happened Saturday night… Let’s go inside and talk, ok? This may take a while…”









As I closed the door behind Jim and watched him walk on down the drive back to his cruiser, a cold wave of fear crept up my spine. Jim’s visit this time was not nearly as pleasant as the first time he was here – a fatality in a traffic accident that was potentially linked to street racing puts law enforcement in a foul mood. Jim was no exception to this.

Ned’s death completely changed the course of the investigation, according to what Jim said as he listened once more to my description of the night’s events only a scant two nights ago. Those two nights now seemed like another lifetime ago for some reason… most likely because so much had transpired but then changed and especially because so much emotion had been experienced during the same time. I have street raced my entire life; not a lot but I have off and on. Usually, the ‘races’ weren’t much of a race; mostly just two guys getting into an impromptu red-light run-off. And, for all those many, many years, not so much as a ticket for “Display of Excessive Acceleration” – until now. Now, my actions were under investigation for possibly contributing to the death of another person – something I had never so much as thought of before…

I guess that is what hit me the hardest – I WAS racing Ned. Had I not been, perhaps none of this would have happened. I kept replaying the events that night, over and over. To be honest, it was eating me up and Jim’s visit along with his serious tone really cast a pall over the idea of ever racing again. And that wasn’t me… competitive racing is in my blood and it runs deep. But this was something else… something I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Steve, it wasn’t your fault.”

Kelly’s words brought my thoughts back to the ‘now’.

“I don’t know, Kel… if I hadn’t been racing him, this wouldn’t have happened…” My voice just kind of trailed off.

“Stop it, Steve! Now listen to me and listen well. Yes, street racing IS stupid. But it goes on and ever since the second guy had a car way back when, racing on the street has been here. The truth is, if Ned hadn’t been racing you, he would have been racing someone else and the same thing might have occurred, perhaps worse. Maybe instead of hitting that pole, he might have hit some mom in a Minivan and wiped out a family. Did you ever think of that? Maybe instead of his motor blowing and causing the slide where it did, maybe he would have wiped out onto a sidewalk of school kids. YOU just happened to be the poor guy who was in the other lane but Ned was the one without any sense.”

I listened…

“Steve, Ned was an idiot. Yes, he’s dead but you can’t change that. But HE is the one who put that huge NOS kit on the car. HE is the one who took the stupid chances he did. HE is the one who lost control, not you. In the end, it’s a combination of fate and Ned’s stupid choices. If YOU had ran him off the road, if YOU had lost control and hit him, if YOU had caused his wreck, that would be one thing. THIS is different Steve… and you should know that…”

She moved closer and embraced me, her arms warm and kind…

“Honey, you didn’t cause his death. It was just one dreadful accident that was caused by a series of bad mistakes by Ned, not you. If you hadn’t been racing him, it would certainly have been someone else. And don’t worry about what Jim said about the D/A looking into the case. They HAVE to examine this because of the fatality. But it will be fine… really, it will be fine… ok?”

She looked up at me and smiled… I just wished that I believed her as much as she did…

* * * * * * *
________

By Wednesday, the story faded off the front page of the local newspaper and off the air on the local news. Ned’s funeral came and went a couple of days after that and the details about his wife finally surfaced. Seems he was separated from her and had been for nearly 3 years but they were still technically married. Vickie was his latest love interest and also attended the funeral, much to the dismay of Mira, Ned’s legal wife. The funeral went well, Ned was spoken of kindly in numerous ways, he was buried and things seemed to slow back down to normal. Jim had even called the day after the funeral and said that the Prosecutor had decided to not press any charges because he did not have any evidence or witnesses who would testify so it was a closed case. For the first time in days, I finally got a good night’s sleep.

The days and weeks passed and as they always do, they turned into months… winter came and went without much hoopla or snowfall. Thankfully, it was a mild one and the greedy CEO’s in the fuel/propane industry didn’t get as rich off me as I’m sure they wanted to. I even sent the Stage II block out after tearing it down for some work to fix the source of the leak which turned out to be not much at all. When it came back, Brandon and I reassembled it and I thought about putting it back in the GN but decided to wait a while, perhaps until late spring. Why? Well, mainly because I was thinking about buying something else and perhaps putting the Stage motor in it. The ‘something else’?

A gorgeous WE4 with a blown motor that a guy I had been bugging for years to sell. The car had less than 20k miles on it and had been in his garage from the day he bought it late in July of ’87. He blew the motor the second year he had it because he didn’t get the filter on tightly enough and lost oil – his wife had been driving it and thought the little red light on the dash meant she needed to check the oil the next time she filled the car up.

The engine seized up less than a mile from home. He towed it home, parked it in disgust, and there it sat, just waiting for someone to pick it up and bring it back to full glory. Well, that someone was going to be me – at least I hoped so. Assuming we could agree upon a price…

________________********____________

It was a glorious, mid-March Saturday evening. The temperature was bumping mid-50’s, the days were slowly but surely getting longer, and even the last of the snow was gone. Kids were seen wearing shorts and tee’s which I always thought was interesting. If the temps had been in the 80’s and dropped to the 50’s, they would have all been wearing parkas and snow boots. But after a long winter of slush and cold temps, let the thermometer climb to 50* and out come the flip-flops and the shorts! Funny, isn’t it?

I had been busy for most of the day cleaning the garage out and had even taken Kelly’s GTO out for a wash and drive. The GTO had grown on me over time – at first, I couldn’t see what she liked about it. I thought it was a bit of an ugly duckling but after driving the LS2 several times, I came to appreciate the car for what it was. It’s a luxurious, powerful automobile with an exceptional drive train and build quality. The interior was second to none and even though getting into the back seats was an exercise in patience-testing, the car was definitely impressive.

When I rounded the corner near our house, I saw Brandon’s car in the drive. Pulling in the drive and on into the garage to park the goat, I saw Brandon leaning against the primary work bench with his arms crossed, waiting patiently with a huge grin on his face.

I turned off the GTO’s 400hp LS2, removed the 2lb key/fob from the ignition (why DO they need a fob that HUGE?) and as I stepped from the car, Brandon just kept looking at me with that goofy grin of his.

Something was definitely up.

“Ok, B – spill it. What’s the reason for that stupid grin on your face? You look like you just got home from dollar night at Hooters.”

“Oh man, Steve… it really isn’t nothing. Other than I just wanted to tell you that the track is opening up next week! And I’m going!”

I had completely forgotten! The first weekend after spring, the strip finally opens and that was coming up. Brandon had been itching all winter to get his car down there and now here was his chance. And I had the itch too it seemed. I had retuned the GN, had pulled the motor from the WE4 (and I STILL felt I paid too much for the car but hey, they aren’t making them anymore…), and was in the process of rebuilding it, still swaying back and forth about putting the Stage 2 in it. I had plenty of time though so I wasn’t in any hurry. It wasn’t like I didn’t already have a car to drive.

The accident from last fall had been almost forgotten at this point but we never did hear any more about Ned’s affairs or what happened. Brandon had said that he heard that Mira got it all – and ‘all’ included two Shelby’s, an ’03 Lightning, an ’03 Terminator, a couple of Mach 1’s (a ’70 and an ’04) and some other toys including a PowerStroke Excursion. Seems that Ned had quite a stable – oh, and that included his wife’s Ford GT as well which was actually Ned’s. Apparently he gave it to her to drive – nice guy, eh? It seemed like it all might have been a bad dream… a really bad dream. Still, life had moved forward once more...

“So, you’re going too, right? To the track, I mean?”

“You know it, Brandon. I’m going. I’m hoping to bust into the 10’s with the GN but I don’t know. It will all hinge on traction and good air. But yes – I’m going. And Kelly had told me a while back she would like to take her goat and see what it could do. That would be interesting!”

We visited for a while as I listened to Brandon’s latest round of local car news. Nothing exciting but he had heard that a black and white Shelby had been seen around town and supposedly there was a wicked SRT-8 Charger or Magnum that had surfaced and that supposedly had been a test bed for some Super Charger company’s preliminary development work, possibly ATI or Vortech.

“If that’s all true Brandon, it should be an interesting year in the neighborhood. And these are just the two you’ve heard about.”

“Well, there’s another interesting angle besides these new rides…”

“What’s that?”

“If what I’m hearing is correct, Ned’s widow is the driver of the Shelby. And from what I’m told, she can drive.”

Now that WAS an interesting twist. Although I hadn’t seen the car around town, I was looking forward to doing so. And I certainly was looking forward to running Brandon’s stock Shelby at the track, if for no other reason than hoping he would let me take it for a pass or two.

Brandon’s car had really come into its own since the day he picked it up. Once he surpassed the factory loaded power reduction (some preset number of miles or engine starts), the power really woke up. He took me for a ride one evening and the stock tires did not have a prayer of hooking up. He already had bought a set of drag radials (E/T’s I think) and had them mounted on a spare set of wheels ready to go, so I hoped to see the beast put down some good times. But I wasn’t sure if his claim of ‘stock’ was legit (knowing Brandon, anything was possible) so I thought maybe I should ask.

“I haven’t heard you say much about mods – is your car still stock other than the wheels? Knowing you, it might have a twin-screw, smaller pulley, and more by now.”

Ah-HA! That grin! I knew he was keeping something under wraps.

“Well, to be honest, I did do one thing – I put a Cold Air Intake in it but that’s it. Other than the CAI and the drag radials however, the car is totally stock. It should be interesting.”

Just as Brandon finished his sentence, we heard the sound of a car that had some serious power coming down the road – actually, it sounded like two different cars. As they neared the curve in the road down from my drive, it was easier to tell it was two cars with two completely different exhaust tones and one even sounded like an automatic. Hmmm….

Brandon and I stepped out of the garage a bit and turned to look down the road into the setting early spring sun just as the lead car came into view. It was the black Shelby with the white stripes. And right behind it looked like a much larger car but one that’s exhaust note was almost overshadowing that of the Shelby – it looked to be an SRT-8 Charger. This car was not one you would lose in the parking lot – it was a bright red but had a blacked out hood and a black spoiler. While the Shelby appeared to be wearing stock size tires and wheels, the SRT-8’s looked to be 20’s but with very wide rear tires, perhaps 315’s or so from the way it looked. And the Charger even had a more sinister whine – it sounded like a big S/C was lurking beneath that power-bulged hood - which was very noticeable as both cars slowed as they neared my drive. Obviously, these were the two cars Brandon had just told me about only moments before…

B and I both thought that perhaps they were just slowing to get a look at his Shelby since his was actually hard to tell from a distance since it wasn’t striped. But when both of them stopped right in front of the house and sat there, it seemed as if they were doing more than looking.

Both cars’ windows were tinted so it was impossible to see who the drivers were but in the still, cool air of that March evening the sounds of the engines idling. Kelly even came to the door and looked out. In the setting sun, the two cars had a long, shadowy look…. There wasn’t any revving or thumping of a stereo as we often hear… they just sat there idling and whining

Idling… whining… idling… whining…

Then, the SRT-8 began to pull around the Shelby and then pulled up even, both noses now side by side. The size differential of both cars was amazing – the Shelby looked tiny compared to the girth of the Charger yet the Charger looked like it could have been just driven from the gates of Hell. The scooped hood, the big meats, the stance – it had a serious, take-no-prisoners attitude. And the paint – it was wickedly gorgeous to be honest. It looked like wet, red metallic, lava – lava that was still cooling…

Brandon and I just stood there, our arms crossed, watching and waiting to see what the two cars were going to do. Perhaps a smoky burnout, as if to challenge? Or, a quick race as if to demonstrate?

Idling… whining… idling… whining…

But then, the sound of transmission linkage being engaged was barely heard above the engine noise. And ever-so-slowly the SRT-8 came on around the Shelby and got back in the lane as the Shelby began to accelerate as well. Very, very slowly both cars drove on by the house and then went on down the road. B and I watched them go on over the slight rise which was about a half mile down from my drive. Neither of us thought to look at the plates – the cars were gorgeous and kept our eyes busy enough.

Brandon turned to me then and then asked, “What do you make of that? Speak of the devils!”

“I don’t know Brandon but didn’t you say that Ned’s wife was supposedly driving a black Shelby around town?”

“Yeah, I did. So, maybe that was her. But I don’t know who owns the SRT-8 and actually, I’m not even positive the Shelby is Ned’s old one. It’s just that I heard she was the driver of one running around town – this one might be a completely different one, I just don’t know…although it would be hard to believe there are even more Shelby’s around. It’s got to be her, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. They seemed to be interested in your car, that’s for sure!”

Brandon shook his head. “I don’t think they were looking at my car at all, Steve. I think they were looking at something else.”

“What would they be looking at?” I asked...

“What’s sitting over there inside that far bay of your garage, perhaps...? Some people do know about it, you know… maybe they were looking to see ‘it’.”

“I don’t think anyone knows about that car, Brandon… It’s never left the garage yet except at night. It’s not quite ready and I’m still waiting on the new turbo’s plus the experimental air/water intercooler so it hasn’t even been on the street this year at all.”

“I don’t know, Steve. Word gets around…. I’m betting they’re looking for the big dog in this town. Everyone knows where the biggest dog house is… my guess is that they’re more than just curious. For now, anyways…”






It had been a few days since the black Shelby and the SRT-8 had ‘stopped by’ and still, neither B nor I had a clue as to who actually owned the car. We had even heard the cars were from out of town but oddly no one knew exactly who the owners were.

We were only a couple of days away from going to the track so with work and other normal home chores, it was hard – but not impossible – to finish up getting the GN and the GTO ready. Since the track wasn’t that far away, we were just going to drive the cars there. My GN isn’t caged yet and it’s not going to be so I was pretty sure that if I was lucky enough to grab a high 10 second ET, the track officials would quit looking the other way and boot me for sure. Oh well, not a bad reason to have to leave the track, right?

Just as I was finishing the last coat of wax on the GN, I heard the sounds again. It was yet another unreal March evening, with the sun setting later and later so I finally had a couple of hours after getting off work to work outside. That was when I heard it – or should I say, “them”…

The black Shelby and the Red SRT-8 came from the other direction this time… slowly easing to a stop just at the property line and this time, the SRT-8 was in front. It was pretty much a mirror image of what happened on Saturday evening… they pulled up, the cars just sat and idled, the sounds of the forced induction motors droning and whining in the cool, early spring/late winter air… then, the Shelby pulled around the Dodge and they both began to pull away with the Shelby taking the lead just as they passed my other property line, this time disappearing into the setting sun’s long shadows of the evening.

I watched the cars go by and wondered who the drivers might be… was the Shelby driver Ned’s widow? IF so, who was driving the Dodge? As I leaned against the very polished and very slick surface of the GN’s driver’s side rear fender, I heard the familiar sound of what I was pretty sure was Brandon’s car coming from the same direction that the two cars had disappeared into.

As B pulled into the drive and stepped from his car, he was shouting before the door was open.

“Did you see ‘em, Steve? Did you SEE THEM? I just passed both of them less than a mile down the road!”

“Calm down, B! Man, a blind man would have seen those cars go buy, they sounded so good. Did you get a look inside as you passed them by?”

“Nah, man… the glare off their windshields prevented that…. I don’t know... it’s weird isn’t it? Less than a week apart and they both drive by two times, yet no one has seen them in town and no one knows for sure who owns either one of them. That’s some weird stuff, for sure…”

Brandon was right. I hadn’t said anything to Kelly about the cars’ odd behavior last Saturday just so she wouldn’t get worried about some stalkers or something but she just happened to be coming down the drive as Brandon was saying his last nugget of observation…

“So, Steve… what’s up with these two cars? What are they?”

I took a couple of minutes and tried to down play it but Kelly’s reaction absolutely floored me.

“Steve, I know who both of those cars belong to – if you had told me about them, I could have told you a couple of days ago… and I think you’re going to be surprised. At least as surprised that I am that they have been coming by…”

Brandon and I just looked at each other with a “WTF?” look on our faces.

“Well, who are they, Kel?” It was Brandon who spoke first.

Kelly didn’t smile and that gave me a weird feeling… very seldom does the love of my life not smile.

“Steve, who do you THINK they are?”

“Well, possibly Ned’s widow in the Mustang but we don’t have a clue about the Dodge. C’mon, Kel – spill it. Who are they? And how in the world is it that YOU know who they are but we don’t?”

“I’ll answer the last part of your question first. I know them because my law office defended them in an insurance fraud case. I didn’t handle the case but I do know that the partners got them off on a technicality.”

“Ok, and since your office is located nearly an hour away that might explain why we wouldn’t have heard about them assuming they live near Dublin.”

“Oh, they don’t live near Dublin, Steve. They live right here. But they do ‘business’ in Dublin and Columbus. And it’s allegedly not the kind of business that would make a parent proud…”

Hmmm… Brandon’s brain was humming as much as mine was…

“I give up, Kel. I STILL do not have a clue…”

She just stared at us both for a moment….

“Steve, they are Ned’s twin sons… and they are not nice boys…. Why don’t you put the GN away and I’ll tell you what I know.”



**********----------------*************------------


After Kelly filled us in I don’t know who was more surprised – her or us. She was shocked to learn that the twins apparently were checking out our home and then she shocked us with more detail.

She told us about how Ned and eventually his sons had been under investigation on some life insurance payment-related investigation that resulted in charges being filed. Seems that Ned’s first wife (and we didn’t even know about her!) had died of some ‘un-natural’ causes, that Ned as well as the boys were listed as beneficiaries on the five million (yes, that is a 5 with SIX zeros behind it) policy, and that the autopsy showed the possibility of foul play. Supposedly, she had killed herself but the autopsy also showed suspicious marks on her wrists and other parts of her body that brought in a suspicion of homicide. Neither Ned nor his boys could corroborate their alibis at the time of death but the cops couldn’t disprove them either so the D.A. barely got the case past the Grand Jury. The Grand Jury wavered about even sending it forward based upon so much circumstantial evidence.

Then, the hot shot lawyers in Kelly’s firm got them off on some paperwork technicalities resulting from a poorly executed search warrant and failure to give at least one of the suspects their Miranda rights. Oddly, while ‘grieving’ the death of their mother/wife, Ned and the boys (Jeremiah and Jonah) had a good ol’ time of a shopping spree, buying up a lot of toys and real estate with their newly found tax-free wealth, all the while waiting for a trial that never came.

Then, Ned died with the boys inheriting their father’s cash – rumored to be nearly another two million plus one of his life insurance policies of another million split between them with Mira getting the cars, yet another million dollar policy, and all the real estate he owned. All of this happened in a matter of days with all the paperwork being handled by Kelly’s office since her firm’s corporate legal office (in another building) also represented the insurance company. She definitely had the details…

We also found out that sometime recently Jeremiah bought the Shelby from an eBay seller and Jonah picked up the SRT-8 from a big Chrysler tuner on the west coast. This was all brought out in the depositions. Ned had bought his Shelby last fall and of course, it was gone. But Kelly did mention one thing that didn’t quite add up – the SRT-8 that Jonah had bought was listed as being black in color – the one that had been passing by the house was a bright, liquid red. And, it was hard to imagine that someone would have changed colors but we all agreed that anything was possible. Either way, there was a lot to think about given the information that we all had.

However, we didn’t really have time – nor reason – to dwell on it. In the end, we agreed that the weekend was upon us, that we were going to the track, that even IF the two cars that had been by the house were Ned’s boys that it didn’t really matter because no harm was done. Ned was dead; some hot cars drove by and seemed to be sniffing around but again, nothing really out of the ordinary.

And still, no one knew what I had in the East Bay of the garage…

After Brandon left, I walked out in the garage and past the first three bays. On the east wall is a walk-through door that takes you on into the other garage which is really a big two bay set-up that also has the main shop/lift in its east side. This is the part of the garage that never has the doors open during the day. This is where my ‘special’ projects have come to life over the years. And this is where ‘it’ sat…

I had actually come across this car several years ago. A guy had it advertised in Hemming's; he was close and on a lark I gave him a call. He didn’t have a price listed nor would he give me one on the phone. He simply said he wanted the car to go to someone who he felt would appreciate it for what it was and also sign a contract to not sell the car for a minimum of 15 years – IF he even decided to sell it to the prospective buyer.

Well, all of those conditions really piqued my interest so Kelly and I took a drive to his house one day. I think it was around 1990 or so…

It was one of those typical hot late-August days that Ohio is famous for – humidity that was off the charts and a temperature trying to break into the 100’s. We were thankful that the air conditioning in the Impala we were driving back then worked because even having to get out of the car to pump gas put you into a full sweat. And then, there were the darn bugs…

The previous winter had been exceptionally mild. Not much of a freeze and that had the farmers grousing about the ground not working right that spring as much as the merchants were moaning about all those unsold Carhart’s and RedWing boots that still were languishing in the aisles along with snow-blowers that gather dust for at least one more season. So, the bugs had a fairly easy go of it – and they took to biting and annoying humans with a vengeance.

As we pulled up the long, dusty lane at Bill (“Just call me ‘Dollar-Bill’ because I’ve still got the first one I ever earned!” – and he must have said this 10 times if he said it once) Davis’s farm, we could see swarms of bugs swirling in the hot air above the hood of the car. Dust rolled and hung behind us. The few cows he had were trying to find shelter from the mid-day sun under the lone Oak tree near the fence, their long tails trying unsuccessfully to swat away the million or so flies trying to have a warm blood snack at their expense.

Getting out of the car, Dollar-Bill came out of his house along with his dog. Well, we weren’t really sure it was a dog at first - until it barked. It looked more like a small pony with a hair-growth problem.

And big, white teeth.

That shined brightly as it growled with one of those deep, guttural growls that sends a wet chill down your back. Even on the hottest August day you can imagine.

“Shut up, you ol’ flea-bag!” yelled Dollar-Bill. “Just ignore him – he’s all bark and no bite. Shoot – Ringo ain’t bit no one for nearly a year now so I’m sure you’re ok.”

We exchanged pleasantries, my hand (which isn’t small) was immediately engulfed in Bill’s meaty ham-fist – a fist that was more sweat and grease than it was anything. Kelly looked down at it as I did and then grinned a bit, knowing that I was dying to wipe the crud off.

“So, ya wanna see the car, do ya?”

I nodded, fearing that even speaking would either get me bit by Ringo or make me sweat even more. At that point, I would have rather been bitten than sweat any more – I was sure we were dehydrating at an alarming rate.

“Then follow me…”

Ok. We had foolishly hoped that ol’ Dollar-Bill might have stored this car in a cool, shady garage but no such luck. We had to hike out across a stone farm machinery-laden lot that I’m sure had to an annex parking lot for a Wal-Mart because it seemed so huge. By the time we got to the dilapidated looking red barn with the faded red paint and a barely visible “Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco” logo on its side, we were soaked in a miserable, shirt-sticking-to-your-skin sweat and our ankles hurt from turning them every other step in the loose pea-gravel he had for stone.

And did I mention the bugs? We must have looked to the bugs like the finest meal they had ever seen (actually, looking at Bill, his dog and his cows, we probably DID look pretty tasty as an alternative). Regardless, our swatting one only invited the attacks of at least three more mosquitoes or horse flies (think small sparrows that want to pierce your flesh with a biter the size of a McDonald’s straw) that had absolutely NO fear of us.

To say we were miserable would have been the understatement of the decade.

And we hadn’t even seen the car yet!

Thankfully, Bill got the door open quickly and we stepped inside. The first thing we noticed – was that we could hardly see. It was so dark inside and our pupils were so downsized due to the hot sun’s glare, the darkness made us blind as – well, as the bats that surely lived above our heads and that Kelly was just SURE were going to swoop down upon us and bite our necks.

Not that we would have been able to differentiate between bat bites or those of horseflies. My guess was that IF a bat did attack, it would only be to try and drink some water that was pooling and running down out backs. They had to be as thirsty as we were!

“Now, y’all just give your eyes time to adjust and I’ll go over here and open the side door. That’ll let in the light. I brought the keys out in case you want to try and start her up but I haven’t had it running for a couple of months – well, since the time the other guy came down to look at it. He wanted to buy it but I didn’t like him. I knew he would take this car and sell it and I ain’t sellin’ my girl to just anyone, ya understand me, boy? I’ll let her stay in this barn forever before I sell it to some snobby boy who wants to drag my girl off to that fancy auction out there in Arizona or something…”

Again, I nodded. In the general direction I heard his voice coming from since I still could not see him.

Then, with a dusty and rusty-sounding creak, we saw another big door begin to swing open and a slowly broadening beam of brilliant light pierced the darkness. A breeze was stirred up and the smell of musty, old hay and straw began to fill our nostrils. Years of dust that had not seen rain or water since before Teddy Roosevelt was president was stirred up and billions and billions of dust-particles floated lazily in the shafts of light now pouring into the darkness, dancing and moving like the tiniest of stars in the night sky... Somewhere deeper in the bowels of the barn we could hear chickens clucking and moving about, occasionally we could hear scratching in the dirt... It was almost as if we had stepped back in time at least a hundred years…

We watched Dollar-Bill walk back our way and motion for us to follow him on over into a corner. As we got closer, we could see the outline of a car beneath a big, green tarp. My first thought? The paint has got to be shot sitting out here in this dirty old barn beneath a TARP…

But as our eyes grew more and more accustomed to the lighting, we could see that the tarp was only over a very, very nice car cover apparently to protect the cover from the aerial bombardments of the flocks of pigeons that we just noticed staring down at us. At least they looked like pigeons – Kelly was sure they were bats but when I pointed out the tail feathers, she had to agree. Still, she kept a wary eye out for the killer vampire bats she was certain were waiting to pierce her jugular.

We moved around a bit to get a better view of the car’s profile. Long hood, short rear deck…a moderately sloping backlight-rear window area… dual sport mirrors… Dollar-Bill began untying the gathers that kept the padded cover from moving on the car when he put the tarp in place.

He began to pull back the front of the cover. Black paint that looked to be every bit as good as it was new came into view… we could see the quad headlights…

He pulled the cover on back over the long sloping hood and the small scoop came into view… the gold stripes were now visible on the passenger side fender that we were standing by looked to be as new too… the cover slid on up and over the windshield, the two big wipers sitting there gleaming in all their glory… the small sport mirrors now uncovered and we watched as more and more of the gold swooping side stripes came into view, the shiny black paint they overlaid looking as if it was wet… how was this possible? We wondered…

Dollar-Bill pulled the cover from the rear… we walked on back and watched as the wide blocky tail lights were exposed, the gleaming chrome bumper shining above the dual exhaust pipes that were now exposed… then, a rear spoiler came into view, the gold striping swooping up off the fender and on across the spoiler…

Then, with one swift and coordinated tug, Bill pulled the cover completely off the car which stirred up some more dust and old-barn smells. The tires looked to be Goodyear’s (Polyglass?) and the wheels looked to be original vintage...

It all looked good. Especially the big blocky letters on the black fenders…

GSX.

We were looking at what Bill claimed to be a one-of-one car – an honest to god, BLACK, 1970 Buick GSX Stage 3 car… And we figured he ought to know – he claimed that he helped hand-build this car as a prototype in 1969 and that he had all the documents to prove it was the real McCoy…

Suddenly, the day wasn’t as hot as it seemed… another chill seemed to creep it’s scaly hand up my back, the cold being real and lingering... the drops of sweat becoming tiny liquid droplets of ice...

In my head for some odd reason, George Thorogood’s notoriously famous “Bad to the Bone” guitar riff started to play…

And the name of the car came to me... it had to named exactly what Bill had told us it was on the phone a couple of days earlier.... it fit so well... just like the faded Ohio vanity plate said...


CRSTEEN...





CHRISTINE









As I opened the walk-through door into the ‘annex’ of my garage and stepped through, all of those memories came flooding back… reading the Hemming’s advertisement the first time and thinking, “Nah, it’s gotta be a fake…”, seeing Dollar-Bill’s big-teeth dog that day we first saw the car, the sights and smells in the old musty barn… and even the feel of the door handle in my hand as I opened the driver’s side door for the first time…

*********_____________*************_____________** *********

I walked around Dollar-Bill with Kelly right behind me. Neither of us could scarcely believe what we were seeing. My first reaction was, “Ok, where’s the documentation?”

Bill just grinned…

“Open the door there, my friend. You will find everything in the glove box that pertains to this car, just like it was when it left Flint. Papers on the lightweight fender liners that Oldsmobile got all the press for, papers on the trunk mat delete, papers telling us to not put any insulation at all in the car of any kind…. Hell, I even have the documents that our department heads signed off ordering the car to be destroyed. GM did not want this car making it to the streets. They used a lot of its design in the GSX series but not all of them and as usual, they wanted the prototypes destroyed. This is the ONLY prototype we built like this and they knew it – they wanted it crushed, melted down and gone forever. But we fooled ‘em good…’

“Oh yeah? How’d you do that, Bill?” I paused, my hand on the gleaming door pull, about to depress the release button below it. I paused, seriously interested in how this car came to be…

“Aw, it was easy really. We just had a regular black Gran Sport crushed and when the suits came to see the remains, they didn’t even check to see if it was anything but a black bodied car. Meanwhile, we had all drawn straws to see who would get to keep the car and I was the lucky one. Seemed fitting somehow… the motor in this car was hand assembled primarily by yours truly. The public knows that 678 1970 GSX’s were built but actually there were 679.” His wink said it all.

Bill seemed to have a gleam in his eye but then he seemed to be swept back in time… back to those days in the prototype works arm of Buick Corporate… I could see that far-away look in his eye, most likely reliving the memories of hefting the huge pistons in his hands, of hearing the motor come to life the first time… and many more.

He explained to us in great detail about how back then, almost $1200 was added to the price of the Buick Gran Sport 455 in 1970 to get the GSX. But if a person spent the extra money, he got a four-speed transmission with a Hurst shifter, G60-15 tires on mag-style wheels, a posi-traction rear with 3.42 gears, Rallye Ride and Control Suspension, power front disc brakes, bucket seats and a small console, a big fat three-spoke steering wheel, spoilers, hood tach and more. The Stage 1 package – for a measly $113.75 when ordered with the GSX package - added a hotter cam, a reworked carb, and bigger valves with freer flowing heads. Most GSX buyers ordered it.

He also told us about a dealer installed Stage 2 package that added headers, gears, the scooped hood, and some other things that he wasn’t sure about but that were all to be done at the dealer. But the granddaddy of them all was supposed to be the Stage 3.

The car before us was supposed to be the culmination of everything Buick’s performance division could muster and that the engineers hoped to get added to the option sheet for prospective buyers. Other GM divisions were kicking Buick’s butt in sales; particularly the new GTO Judge and the Chevelle SS 454 and Olds 442 W-30 car (with its red plastic fender liners) were leaving Buick behind in sales. Buick fans wanted to be the king at the track and on the street. It was hoped that ideas borne from this car were going to help Buick get the crown for them in a very quick way.

Before I reached back down to open the door, Bill had popped the hood. Oddly, the hood was not on springs and he propped it up with a prop rod that was along the driver’s fender. I tucked that observation away for a moment as I began to circle up to the front of the car along the long, curvaceous fender…

“Look at this… if this doesn’t make you drool you’re dead, boy…”

Bill had produced a flashlight from somewhere and was directing its dust particle-filled beam into the cavernous engine bay of the GSX. As I stepped nearer, I could see what he meant. This was a serious race car.

The first thing I noticed was the massive intake system. There were two four barrel carbs sitting on what was obviously a hand crafted intake connected to a common air inlet that sealed up against the yawning hood. No insulation was on the underside of the hood and when I reached up to touch it, I noticed it wasn’t metal at all – it was fiberglass! The scoop was worked onto the surface of the hood because there wasn’t any attachment hardware visible at all. No wonder there weren’t any hood springs…. Casting my gaze back down into the engine bay, Kelly was on the opposite fender and looking on with appreciation for something special. Bill continued with some more details….

“Steve, this car is definitely unique. I saw you staring at the intake – it’s beautiful, ain’t it? Wendell in fabrication made that for me and those two Holley 600’s on top have his linkage hooking them together. The cam? I don’t remember the numbers exactly but they are on the sheet in the glove box. I CAN tell you this thought, this car has a lot of trouble idling – it’s VERY rough and sounds a lot like a pro-stocker. Engine vacuum is almost non-existent at low rpm due to the size of the valves and the cam.”

I tried to imagine what it must have been like to build this monster…

“The internals are all forged, balanced and blueprinted as best possible. The compression ratio is almost 12:1 and this car HAS to have premium fuel. Actually, it liked the old Sunoco 260 but you can’t find that good stuff anymore… Anyways, the transmission is a built Turbo 400, not the 4 speed that you see in a lot of the cars. Tests showed us that the 4 speed would not take the torque of this motor… The rear axle isn’t a GM 12 bolt – it’s a Dana; and it has 4.10’s stuffed in it. Notice those big headers? Those also were all special made by Wendell and his crew and they were designed to maximize torque. If you recall, these here Buick 455’s were famous for their torque. Well let me tell you this – STOCK Buick 455’s WISH they had the torque this motor does…”

I saw that memory-laden stare in Bill’s eyes again… I scanned the engine bay, admiring the Spartan assortment of plumbing, wires and such… this was full-boogie race prep.

Kelly came on around to my side as Bill stepped back, a look on his face not unlike that of a father looking has child for the first time.

“Open the door, Steve” Kelly whispered… “See what’s inside…”

I felt the heat returning back to the environment… “Bad to Bone” still ran in and out of my thoughts… I put my hand back on the door pull – it felt hot… pressing the metal release, I felt the linkage move, heard the clicking of the release of the door latch, and pulled the heavy door open.

More smells… the smell of plastic; old plastic and vinyl and glass. I noted a thin rubber mat on the floor… no carpet. I slid on into the car on onto the seat.

It felt like… well, like a big old flat sofa. The seats were supposed to be ‘buckets’ but compared to today’s bucket seats, these seats were not much more than small sofas sitting side by side. A seat belt was all that would have kept us in check. The steering wheel was HUGE in diameter! It had a gray vinyl material which also felt hot to my hands but it fit. It kind of reminded me of the steering wheel in my GN but much bigger yet. The three spokes were not solid – they were semi-split but afforded a good view of the instrument panel, which to my surprise, was one of the best laid out panels I’ve ever seen.

It was obviously also hand assembled. It had a tach (no hard to see hood-tach here), oil pressure, battery, fuel level, speedo, and water temp. All the gauges were black faced with white numbers and needles. The smell inside the interior swept me back the 20 years or so (remember? This was 1990!) and I could imagine how it might have felt to be able to walk into a Buick Dealership on Main Street in Any Town, USA and buy one of these beasts. There wasn’t any console and the standard floor shifter (sort of an inverted “U”) was housed above a small box that hid it’s linkage to the Turbo-Hydromatic 400 beneath the massive floor raise.

I sensed Bill standing out side the door but he wasn’t speaking….

I ran my hands over the passenger seat and noted that the rear seat was still in the car. Kelly had opened the passenger’s door and slid onto the seat, opened the glove box and pulled out a very aged-looking manila envelope. On the outside of the envelope was “1970 GSX S-3 P-Type – TOP SECRET” stamped in fading red ink. In the upper left corner of the envelope were GM’s logo and the name “William R. Davis” which had “Property Of:” stamped above it as well.

It looked like Bill was legit after all. I suddenly forgot how hot I was and ignored the sweat beading on my brow and my upper lip… I didn’t know if I was sweating now or drooling… THIS car was indeed very special.

“Here, young fella… see if she’ll start for ya. Christine is a bit temperamental and I don’t know how fresh the battery is so try your hand. My guess is, if she like’s you, she’ll start. If not, don’t take it personal, ok?”

The battery? I didn’t notice a battery under the hood.

“Bill, where IS the battery? Is it in the trunk?” I asked this as I slid the key into the ignition cylinder. No chime rang out but I also noticed that there wasn’t any sort of interior lighting either. Apparently prototypes (or maybe S-3’s only?) do not get fluffy stuff like interior lighting…

Bill grinned. “Yep, it’s in the trunk. And it’s a big one too… takes a lot of amps to turn this high compression monster over…”

Ok... here goes… I rotated the key in the cylinder forward. Actually, the action took more effort than I thought it would… possibly just due to lack of use? I noticed then that as the key passed the “Run” mark on the column that the gauges all flickered a bit and then jumped up off of their dead position.

The battery had at least THAT much juice… but – would it have enough to turn over?

In a millisecond, that question was answered…

The first rotations of the reciprocating mass sounded like what surely was the noise of hell-hounds being stirred from a deep slumber…

“Grrr… grrr…. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr….”

But the speed of the rotations began to pick up speed.

“Did you pump the accelerator, boy?”

No. In my life of becoming comfortable with electronic and computer controlled fuel injection, I had completely forgotten about chokes on carbs! I let off the key and it returned to the run position, the needles on a couple of the gauges jumping back up to their live status.

I matted the pedal a couple of times, hearing the linkage work on the carbs out front… what a delightfully, mechanical sound… a lost and long ago sound of power and mobility…. Millions and millions of Americans had grown up knowing that you ALWAYS pump the pedal a time or two before staring a car.

But not me… Duh… I completely had forgotten!

Lifting my foot from the pedal, I rotated the key again. This time, the results were vastly different.

The motor didn’t start as much as it exploded to life. The fast idle of the carb settings must have been set up to at least 2000 rpms if not higher… looking at the tach, I saw I was close – around 1900 rpms was being held fairly steady. But that wasn’t the main attraction.

That glory fell to the exhaust.

Even at the high rpm of the cold-start (now, there’s a misnomer for an Ohio August afternoon…), the idle was rougher than I imagined possible. The cam HAD to have at least numbers that were nearly off the chart for street use.

“Bap! Bappety, bap-bap-bap-BAPPETY-bap…”

The explosions within the cylinder walls were a cacophony of mechanical music, the pulses ringing within the big-tube headers and exiting what had to surely be nothing more than a chambered exhaust (which I later found to be exactly what this car had – NO mufflers at all)… It was deliriously beautiful yet had the deadly sound of a very angry mechanical beast…

It was then that I noticed the dust had really kicked up in the barn, dancing about in the sunbeams… a few small pigeon feathers slowly wafted down from above... Obviously, the pigeons (and most like ANY animal within earshot of the barn) had exited in a hurry, fearing for its life. The falling feathers confirmed this fact at least for the birds that were previously looking down upon us in curiosity.

Bill was trying to talk to me but I hadn’t a clue what he was saying. Maybe the grin meant it was good?… Kelly had her fingers in her ears… I was probably damaging my hearing with each second but I didn’t care. This car was calling my name… it was the song of the siren, asking me to come closer to the rocky shoals of mega-torque and Horsepower… Christine owned me right then and there with her sultry and abundantly loud voice… “Bad to the Bone” was gone… now, I could hear (barely, even in my own head) AC-DC’s opening intro to “Hell’s Bells” began to circulate in my brain’s ‘ears’…

Dust… feathers… exhaust noise… the acrid smell of high compression exhaust fumes… darkness… light… life… death… good… and evil… oddly, all of those sensory stimuli were bombarding me at the same time… I was terrified yet could not run…

Christine wasn’t mine. Oh, no… not hardly. No one could ever truly ‘own’ an entity like this car. Our best hope is to be able to share years with a car like this, knowing that we can not take it with us when we cross over to the other side… Christine surely didn’t come from the other side of light and music and angels and trumpets…

Christine was forged with the fury of molten steel, of flaming forges, and of mighty pile-driving hammers striking hot metal to shape its soul… hand built by people who knew what she might be capable of.

Bill agreed to sell me the car at that moment. He saw ‘it’ on my face. He knew that I didn’t want to own Christine. He knew that I knew what he knew… that she wasn’t going to be mine so much as…

I was going to be her’s…


********___________*************____________****** *******


Standing there in the garage bay that evening, I looked her over again. I can never look at Christine without feeling the same things I felt the time I first fired her up in that run-down old barn over fifteen years earlier. I had only taken her out at night… LATE at night, when no one was really around. I never took her into town… only out in the country where she could breathe the cool, dense air of the night, where her exhaust noises wouldn’t wake anyone but the dead (and those sleeping)…

But I had not had her out for several months. It was about time… it wouldn’t this weekend. But – it would be soon. I felt it… she knew it… sooner or later, I would have to feed her.

And Christine was a cannibal of the worst kind… she had no one to fear and thus, feared no one…

Sooner or later… it was coming. I stood there feeling the same kind of chill I felt… and I thought I heard her soul rumble deeply within me with approval.

It was time to start finishing her up…

Yes… it was definitely time.








That Saturday morning started out dark and heavily overcast… it was looking to be one of the typical Ohio spring mornings that could bring any sort of weather for the day – rain, clouds, wind, snow, and/or even sleet – well, like I said - anything. The dark gray clouds hung low and heavy, as if ready dump a deluge of precipitation if they were poked with anything sharp. Given the temperature, at least it wouldn’t be snow – by noon it was already nearly 50 degrees and the forecast called for much higher than normal temperatures for the rest of month. As long as the rain held off, we were going to the track.

I had the GN ready and Kelly’s GTO was ok to go as well. I had already put the Drag Radials on her car the night before and it was going to be interesting to see what it could do. Brandon and Stacy came over right after lunch and B was his usual self – just itching to get to the track early for tech. He had previously decided to mount a new set of M/T E-T DR’s on a spare set of wheels that he had in the trunk of the GT500. He wanted to see what the Shelby would do on the stock 285/40-ZR18’s first, although neither of us had much hope that they could withstand the torque of the blown 5.4 even on a prepped track. Our experiences in his car in the past weeks held little hope of that. After seeing how the stockers would do, he planned on bolting on the DR’s and see how much effect they would have on his ET.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry anymore about losing air pressure in that pesky right-rear tire (the old Nitto D/R). For my birthday, Kelly had bought me a brand new set of 275/60-15’s along with a new set of Centerline TelStar aluminum wheels for the Buick. And at this point, they were already on the car. My old set (which only had about a thousand miles on them, if that) were up over the garage with all my other “I just might need this [insert name/description of item] someday so I can’t toss it out” items… sound familiar?

By mid-afternoon, amazingly the clouds begin to pull back and break up. A slight warm southerly breeze began to pick up and the thermometer on the side of the garage was bumping 60*. By 4:30, we were pulling out of the driveway and heading to the track, Brandon and Stacy in the lead, Kelly behind them and my GN bringing up the rear. In no time at all, we were there.

Pulling into the track entrance, you drive under a huge metal sign, “Tri-County Drag Strip – The Track of Champions”. Tri-County was a newer track than the one at Barstow and the entire complex is much nicer because of its age. The entryway drive is about a hundred yards long and you have to drive through a set of lockable metal gates. The entire complex is surrounded by a large masonry/brick wall along with reinforced chain-link fence.

After you enter the main entry gate, there are three ticket booths – one between the two entry lanes and one on each outer side to accommodate who might be paying the freight. So, as we figured might be the case for the first weekend and with the outstanding weather, a LOT of cars were there. There is a steady stream of vehicles of all varieties waiting to pull into the track and all three ticket booths were busy taking money from anxious racers and fans. Money was being made for sure.

Immediately after paying your entry fee of ten bucks (for Test and Tune Night) if you are the driver or five dollars as a spectator, you are then directed to one of three different tech areas depending upon how busy the event might be. Normally, most cars are sent single file to T-A 1 where you have to fill out a two sided sheet of paper giving the owners of the track all the info on you, your car, and your driver’s license as well as signing a release that absolves the track and it’s owners/employees/affiliates of any liability should you wipe your nice ride out. No problem there – do it at your own risk is how it should ALWAYS be done.

As soon as you fill out the Tech/Information sheet, two or three tech inspectors may look your car over depending upon what event might be planned and at what level you are participating. If they know your car is a heavy hitter, say running 10’s or better, they will be all over it and especially want to see the cage. However, for T&T night they pretty much just make sure that, if you are the driver, that you’ve got a helmet, long pants good shoes, and a car that isn’t leaking anything. They will then write a huge entry number (dependent upon what number of entrant your car is in respect to who came in before you).

If you do not want your ET shown on the lights, they will write “NO TIME” on the side window facing the announcer’s stand. This will clue the announcer (assuming he’s paying attention) to turn off the lighted display at the far end of the track prior to your run (and for your lane only) telling everyone what you are running. Some guys want this done, especially if they are bracket racers. Most of us there at T&T don’t care – show how well we ran to the world, we don’t care. And, we don’t usually care who is in the other lane – T&T night isn’t about racing an opponent as much as it is seeing what you need to tweak on your own car or abilities to get the absolute lowest ET and maximum MPH for your runs.
Waiting in line to get to the Tech area, Brandon shut down the GT500 and walked back to the GN with Stacy hopping in the passenger side seat of Kelly’s GTO. We definitely were going to have to wait a bit – apparently we weren’t the only racers who thought getting there early would mean we could get through tech faster!

“Hey, Steve! Man, I am PUMPED! I can not WAIT to launch the Shelby tonight!”

Like I said, B is anything but subtle.

“How many miles do you have on her now, Brandon?”

“Well, I just looked at the odometer and if I remember right, it’s around 2200-2300 miles or so. Hard to believe I’ve driven it that much but man, those Fords are meant to be driven. With the mild winter, I’ve gotten a lot of seat time in it so I’m feeling pretty good tonight!”

Remember me telling you about Brandon’s loyalty, especially to Ford? He is one dyed-in-the-wool B.O.B. (Blue Oval Boy).

“Hey – by the way, Kelly’s Goat sounds pretty good! Did you do anything to it?”

“Nah, it’s the stock exhaust. Other than the Drag Radials, it’s completely stock. Those LS2’s are pretty healthy but the thing that hurts that car is its weight – I think it’s nearly 3800lbs. If that car was about 400-500 lbs lighter, it would be a killer. As it is, it ain’t no slouch and she’s told me about embarrassing a lot of ricer-boys and even a few of you Mustang jockeys at the stop lights!” I couldn’t resist trying to deflate B’s enormous overly-confident Ford ego – and as usual, it didn’t work; he just ignored me and kept going. Ya gotta love the guy!

“I haven’t seen anyone yet that I know. But man, there is a lot of nice iron here tonight! Did you see all the 5.0’s? One of them that was two or three cars up from me – and that was driven here – has a chute on the back of it! Could be an interesting little notch-back to see run. And I can’t believe the number of trucks that are here! And I know at least two of them are diesels! Steve, the world is changing…”

He was right; vehicles that we used to think would never be seen on a drag strip were now repeat visitors and beyond that, many of them were downright scary. Take the diesel pickups – I saw one run a 10 second ET last fall! Black smoke was bellowing from the exhaust but the white Dodge Ram absolutely destroyed some guy’s confidence in his LS1 SS Camaro – it only ran a ‘lowly’ 12.2 – and STILL lost to a diesel pickup!

The 5.0 crowd was definitely well represented this evening. Looking over the parking area where everyone picks their ‘space’ to de-trailer, mount tires, etc, there were a LOT of Mustangs that had numbers on their glass. Several old muscle-cars could be seen, including a couple of SS Novas, a few Chevelles or Malibus, a few Cutlasses, and so forth. But as it always happens, time has a way of weeding out the old stuff. The VAST majority of competitors tonight would be stuff that was mid ‘80’s or newer.

By this time the line had begun to move again so B jogged back up to the Shelby and we moved forward. In no time, we were all though tech and then proceeded to head over to the parking area just south of the staging lane entrance to the track. We found three spots that were adjoining and pulled in, having decided beforehand to walk up and see how the track looked.

At this point, it was almost 5:30. The sun was beginning to get low in the sky but with Daylight Savings Time only a few weeks away, darkness didn’t fully descend until around 6:30 so there was some sunlight still to enjoy. Yet, the air temp was already dropping - the big digital thermometer and clock on the back side of the announcer’s stand read a cool 53*. Forecast was for a low of 46* tonight so we were more than a little concerned with even being able to hook up to such a cold track. But those fears weren’t going to deter us tonight – in less than an hour, we would be racing!

We all joined up and headed over to the stands. Already, cars were running and the wonderful sounds of engines being revved for burnouts, staging, and launching/shifting were filling the cool evening air. The air smelled clean and fresh – except when the clouds of tire smoke may drift over us. Or, the smell of burnt race gas or alcohol might try and intoxicate you with their heady, semi-sweet but pungent aromas. For a racer, all a girl would have to wear for perfume would be something along the lines of “Eu-de Tire Smoke”; he would be helpless in her company! The earlier breeze had died entirely – the Stars and Stripes hung limp and lifeless on its pole so the smells of full bore racing were plentiful the closer you got to the track.

Nearing the stands, you have to pass one of the two concession areas first. Here is where the really good smells are found! Nachos and cheese, hot-dogs, Coney-dogs, hamburgers (grilled on an open-flame grille), French fries, popcorn and more were ready to go for hungry racers and race-fans. The smell of a fresh quarter-pound burger right off the grille, sizzling on a soft bun with all the condiments on a cool spring night is hard to describe but if you know what I’m talking about, I bet your mouth is watering right now.

Being too excited to eat, we passed the busy concessions and headed on up into the stands. Amazingly, the fans were out in full force! The seating area on both sides of the track looked to be over half full which was a lot more than you usually would see. The announcers were busy doling out the info that had been transmitted to them for each car/driver; information that was gleaned from our entry sheets earlier.

“Up next in the Mobil 1 lane is Darrell Thompson in his ’88 Monte Carlo SS. Darrell is a local boy and has been racing here for a few years. His Monte has a 350 with some other goodies and is always competitive here at Tri-County. In the far lane, that would be the Summit Racing lane, is Hannah Myers. This is Hannah’s first year here at Tri-County and she’s fielding one of those new Honda Si’s that we’ve been hearing about. Hannah tells us that the car is stock and that tonight is her first night ever on a drag strip. Don’t worry Hannah! We all had a first time here too so you’ll do fine. And while Darrell and Hannah get staged, on back in the burnout area are…”

The guys never stopped. There is never any dead air time at Tri-County; if they aren’t talking - such as during an oil-down on the track - music is playing. I guess that is why T-C became so popular – a racer or a fan just feels comfortable here…

We watched a couple of pairs of cars run. And actually, Hannah didn’t do badly at all – she ran a very low 15 second ET! It appeared that, despite her claim of this being her first time at the drag strip, Hannah was no stranger to launching and shifting a competitive car. She did very well indeed.

B and Stacy had gone down to the concession area for some popcorn and drinks and were just coming up the steps to where we sat when the announcer’s voice got our attention again…

“Well, folks, here are a couple of interesting cars coming up for you. In the far lane, it’s one of those new Dodge Chargers – an SRT-8 to be precise. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Dodge’s new Charger, this version is the big boy of this release. It’s got a 6.1 liter HEMI with a rated 425 hp. Yes, it’s got four doors and many of you are saying, ‘That ain’t no Charger!” but wait until you see it run. It’s FAST….”

Sure enough, waiting to pull through the water in the burnout box sat a blood red SRT-8 Charger. And it looked like the very same car that had been shadowing the house in recent days. The announcer continued…

“However, we won’t get to see the time that this bad boy might run – as you can see on the window, it says ‘NO TIME” so the display will be turned off at the driver’s request. But I’m SURE you’re gonna enjoy it – if you listen closely, you can probably hear a noise you don’t normally hear in the new SRT-8. It’s the whine of a blower or something. I don’t have any more info on this car other than the driver’s name. Driving the big red Dodge sitting over there in the Mobil One lane is…”

Brandon and I glanced at each other, waiting to hear who was driving the car – if it WAS the same car we had seen twice earlier. Hell, it HAD to be – how many SRT-8’s like this were around? Who could it be? Even as we were waiting, the SRT-8 was melting the hides having just pulled through the burnout box. The whine of a blower was EASILY heard – to be honest, the blower wasn’t whining as much as it sounded like it was screaming…

“… hold on folks, the writing is smudged a bit here… ok, I’ve got it now… driving the Dodge is…”

Ok… enough suspense already… We all were leaning forward in the cool evening air waiting to hear…

“…driving the Dodge is another new driver here at Tri-County. Folks, it looks like EVERYbody wants to run at Tri-County and don’t’ think for a minute that the Yates brothers who own this fine place don’t appreciate it! Anyhow, driving the Dodge is Bill Reynolds. Bill hails from…”

Oddly, I didn’t hear what else the announcer said… Bill REYNOLDS… why did that name sound familiar? Reynolds… Reynolds… nah, it couldn’t be, could it? Was Bill yet another person related to Ned?
Once more, the announcer kept reading… all the while the car opposite the SRt-8 did its burnout but with much less gusto than the Charger. We all agreed – while the LS1 Camaro in the Summit Racing lane might sound healthy, it was going to be cannon fodder for the Dodge. But just as we were watching the pair pull into the beams, the announcer’s voice caught our ears again…

“And while we wait for those two get staged, take a quick glance at what just pulled into the staging area. It’s one of those new high-dollar Mustangs, race fans! It’s a gen-you-wine, bona-fide, 2007 Shelby GT-500! Oh, yeah folks, this is a bad, BAD boy… and from what I hear, it ain’t stock either… just take a look at those stripes people, this is one gorgeous car!...”

Once more, B and I were surprised. It appeared that both the Shelby and Dodge were here tonight and we were going to actually see them run… we waited to hear who the driver was… meanwhile, the SRT-8 had the Pre-Stage and the Stage bulbs lit; the Camaro had only the Pre-Stage beam broken…

They were both idling at the line… the Camaro was creeping forward…

“…and driving that Shelby folks is someone whose name we’ve seen in the papers recently. We were all shocked by the death of her husband in that tragic car accident last fall…”

Now, both sets of bulbs were lit… both cars’ engines picked up rpms, preparing to launch…

“…Ned Reynolds was known as a long-time supporter of drag racing. He will be missed…”

The first amber light lit… both the SRT-8 and the Camaro were straining to be loosened of the mechanical bonds that held them fast…

“… driving the black and white-striped Shelby is – whoops! We’re about to launch the cars folks! Directing your attention back up to the line…”

Second amber bulb is lit, the third is about to illuminate… everyone’s eyes are focused on the two cars, especially the SRT-8, its blower shrieking in anger… the Camaro had to be a stick car – it’s RPM’s were much too high to be on a converter…

The third amber lit and both cars launched, breaking the beams at what seemed to be identical times. But within 200 feet, the SRT-8 was walking the Camaro… it was already over. The Camaro was dead…. We watched both cars race to the finish as we heard the next pair (just ahead of the Shelby) finish their burnouts and being to pull into the lights…

The Dodge won easily, that was clear but it also sounded as if the driver may have backed out of it a little early. It was too hard to tell from the stands... No time was shown on the display at the big end of the track for it. The Camaro rolled through with a highly respectable 12.16 @118mph. That meant that the big Dodge was at least a mid or low-eleven second car, maybe more…

“Steve – who the hell is Bill Reynolds?” Brandon’s mind was racing as much as mine…

“I don’t know, B… I’m guessing he’s some relative of Ned’s, maybe?”

Kelly spoke up.

“He’s Ned’s father, Steve. I remember seeing his name on some of the documents… Bill Reynolds is Ned’s father… And while we’re talking about Ned, you’re not gonna believe what just pulled onto the track behind the black Shelby…”








Wow. In a matter of seconds, good ol’ Har-har-de-HAR’s ghost made itself known in a VERY big way. First, we find out Ned’s Dad (at least according to the info that Kelly had seen) was driving the uber-sick SRT-8 Charger. Then, Ned’s widow was in the black and white striped Shelby. But as we were about to find out, those two cars weren’t the only ones bearing reminders of good, ol’ Ned’s family…

“Well, folks, unless you’re dead you can’t help but take a look at what just pulled into the staging lanes… I know I certainly can’t take my eyes off of it…”

Looking in the direction that Kelly had pointed and with the announcer’s urging, we were surprised to see a graphite colored Viper pulling out onto the track. Oddly, this car at first glance seemed to be a run-of-the-mill late model Mopar snake but the odd hood was the first thing that caught our attention – it had three huge slanted air vents on each side of it. Also, the hood scoop was bigger than the Vipers we had seen in the past.

“This car here is definitely the first you will see like this in the area, race fans. Officially, this car isn’t even for sale yet! Somehow though, our good but dearly-departed friend Ned Reynolds had, shall we say, ‘connections’ and had ordered this car last fall when he heard it was coming out. Folks – you are looking at Dodge’s biggest of the big boys… the Hemi-Cuda’s and Hemi-Charger’s of old had NOTHING on this car, of that I am certain… well, other than the ability to seat two or three more people…”

It couldn’t be, could it? The 2008 SRT10 Viper wasn’t even officially going to hit the lots until summer this year – how in Keith Black’s name could there be one sitting here at Tri-County, ready to light the tires?

B spoke first. “Steve, is this the 600 horse version we’ve been hearing about that is supposed to be a Z06 killer and a rival for the Blue Devil SS Corvette? I know I read about it in the magazines but I thought it wasn’t coming out for a few more months?”

“Brandon, if car is what its hood says it is, yes – this is the 600HP Viper. I just don’t understand how we’re even seeing one here now. They only had one of them at the Detroit Auto Show in January and it wasn’t this car. Well, at least it wasn’t this COLOR…” Ol’ Mr. Ned seemed to have a never-ending bag of surprises – even if he was dead!

Beyond the fact that we had already been stunned by the fact that Ned’s father was driving the big bad Dodge, here was a new Viper with HIS name on it. Who in blazes was going to be driving THIS car? His ghost? Or, would it be one of the ‘boys’?

“Kelly – how did you connect this car to Ned?” I just realized that Kelly had pointed the car out…

“Steve – it was listed as a potential asset in his estate. Well, at least an “On Order” $90k plus 2008 Viper of this color was identified – I just figured that with the other Reynolds family members racing tonight that this funny looking Viper had to be connected to Ned or his family in some way or other…”

That’s Kelly for you… when she’s right, she’s definitely RIGHT.

While Brandon and I were itching to go get our cars and out onto the track, we all agreed that seeing these cars run first was even more interesting. The next to run was going to be the black and white striped Shelby against some other local racer that was a crowd favorite.

“Ok folks, here’s the deal on the new Mustang. Like the SRT-8 that just ate up that LS Camaro, this Shelby has ‘No Time’ on it. Therefore, we’re not going to see its ET or Trap Speed. Doesn’t that just grind your gears? And you’ll definitely want to stick around to see that new Viper run. I’ll try and get more info on who’s in the pilot’s seat for you too! But back to this Shelby, we’re told it is essentially stock – of course, who would lie about their car? Ha-ha-ha!!!! - so unfortunately, we’re not going to be able to tell by any sort of ET. Maybe next time…”

The Shelby was matched up against a local boy in a 5.0 Mustang that sounded like it was either blown or turbo’d – it had a definitely whine to it that you could hear above the Shelby. The announcer kept his banter going as both Ford’s began their burnouts…

“In the Summit Racing lane will be Mira Reynolds in the Shelby. As we all know, her husband Ned died as a result of injuries sustained last fall in a one-car crash. Rumor has it he was street racing but it doesn’t matter – either way, Ned Reynolds died. In the Mobil One lane is Marty Anderson with his ’90 GT that has a blown stroker motor in it of unknown displacement. Marty ran solid mid 11’s last fall in good air here at Tri-County so it should be interesting to see how he does here tonight…”

Ah… Marty Anderson… ok, that was a familiar name after all. Marty is a well known local boy who runs with Brandon’s Ford crowd. His GT is a heavy street player and a gorgeous car to boot, having been repainted the beautiful Sonic Blue that many of the Terminator Cobra’s were seen in. With the Weld racing aluminum wheels, it was a beauty to look at and it sounded healthy. Brandon had a lot of good things to say over the years about Marty and his ability to terrorize the local street racing scene….

At this point, the Viper was already pulling into the near-lane burnout box. The SRT10’s opponent was going to be another new car but one that many people knew about – it was Tom Seggerson’s new ’07 Z06. Now, THIS was going to be a race to watch for sure! A reputed Z06 Killer in the far lane lined up against the newest Z06 - the baddest (to date) Corvette that Chevy had ever fielded. One that was rumored to be able to humble even the mighty L-88 Vettes of the late ‘60’s…

“Ok folks, here we go… the Shelby is pre-staged… in case you didn’t know this, Mira Reynolds is no stranger to the drag strip… oops, now Marty is pre-staged… now, he’s staged… we’re just waiting for Mira to pull on in and break the second beam… Mira ran over at Barstow for years as well as down at National Trails in Columbus as well as other nearby NHRA tracks this side of the Mississippi, campaigning a Super Stock racer – hey, they’re both staged now… I’ll shut up… let’s watch…”

Both cars were staged now. The ambers began to light.

First bulbs… The rpms of both cars were fairly high based upon how they sounded. Obviously, Mira was NOT afraid of giving the blown 5.4 liter its head…

Second ambers now blazed in fury… the crowd was hushed as was the announcer… only the roar of exhaust and the whine of blowers could be heard…

Third ambers lit… in a nano-second, both cars began to be loosed…

GREEN!!!! Away they went in a HUGE roar. Neither of us had noticed that Mira’s Shelby was on slicks until it launched and we saw the sidewalls wrinkle a bit… apparently the detail had been missed by Mr. Microphone as well… At first, Marty seemed to be pulling the Shelby but then something happened…

The scream from beneath the hood of the GT500 grew to banshee-like proportions… the 5.4 was now nearing the rev limiter and due to shift… Marty had just shifted and looked to be giving up some of his half-car lead…

As we listened to hear if Mira missed a shift, she stunned us all again – she fully power-shifted the big Shelby! The nose lifted a bit as the slicks bit again with the rage of second gear coming in strong. In a split second, the Shelby was passing Marty’s GT almost like it was parked! It was all over in what had to be not much more than 11 seconds – if that? It looked like the Shelby crossed the line at least 6 cars ahead of Marty!

“Race fans! Did you just see what I just saw here at Tri-County?”

The fans roared their approval with the great showing. Many were still clapping even as the Viper and the Z06 were doing their burnouts. And NO ONE was on his butt – every person in the stands was now standing to see what was certainly going to be one of the best stock showdowns ever ran at the racetrack.

“That Mira Reynolds can flat DRIVE a car can’t she?!! I could hear it from up here folks – she POWER-SHIFTED that Mustang like she stole it! Man, I wish we could tell you the times she just ran… hell; I wish I even KNEW what it was! Ha-ha-ha-ha!!! Marty pulled down another one of his very consistent 11.40’s but sheesh – what DID that GT500 RUN? I’m amazed…”

We were all surprised! We had to have just watched what must have been a very, very low 11 second Shelby GT500 completely demolish a solid mid eleven second Mustang GT. Brandon was right – Mira definitely proved that she knew her way around a race car. It was obvious that the announcer’s info was spot on – she was a force to be reckoned with on the track. Or, on the street…

We sat in muted silence as we listened to the Viper and the Z06 now noisily began to flex their eyeball flattening muscles; they built huge, billowing clouds of white tire smoke as they shot from out in front of the burnout box, the enormous rear tires screeching briefly in protest as dry pavement was grabbed and then driven upon. They both then slowed abruptly to not over-drive the pre-stage and stage beams, beginning to creep forward in preparation to run a balls-out race... slowly… slowly… forward… slowly…

“Keep your eyes on THESE two fans. That is Tom Seggerson in his new Z06 sitting over there in the Summit Racing lane. Word has it that he just picked up that car less than a month ago and that he only has around 800 miles on it. Regardless, knowing Tom? I’m sure he’s gonna let it ALL hang out here at Tri-County tonight! Tom had one of the ’03 Z06’s that he had the Lingenfelter boys work their magic on… I’m sure you remember that red Vette. It took home its share of trophies from here at Tri-County!”

In seconds, both cars had the pre-stage lamps lit and then both lit the Staged lamps simultaneously…
“Driving the Viper sitting closest to us in the Mobil One lane is – I almost forgot to tell you – yet another member of the Reynolds family. Man – they’re thick here tonight, aren’t they? Ha-ha-ha!!! I must say though, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting this new guy. Says here that his name is Nate… Nate Reynolds… says that Nate hails from a suburb of Pittsburg – McKee’s Rocks… hmmm… I think that was where Ned was from too… well, let’s just watch them race, ok? I’m sure it’s gonna be a hum-dinger!”

Brandon and I about broke our necks as we turned to look at each other. Yet ANOTHER Reynolds? “Nate”? Who the hell is THIS guy? Nate? Ned? Brothers aWhat the hell did THIS mean? Too much was happening and it was too noisy to find right at the moment… I figured Kelly would know and could fill us in later…

Behind Tom and Nate, yet another pair of racers from the long lines already filling up the pre-staging areas were pulling into the water boxes… one was an old late ‘60’s Nova SS that clearly had the thunder of a big block motor… the other was a newer Nissan 350Z that also had a healthy sounding exhaust… The SS still had the “SS396” emblems on the fenders but it sounded a lot beefier than that… my guess was that it had to have a least a 502 in it, possibly one of the big-boy 572’s…

Up ahead of the Nova and the Nissan, the RPMS of the Viper and the Vette were upped in anticipation of the launch… The cumulative roar of over 1100 horsepower has the ability to overwhelm most other car sounds other than fuelers… and even though these cars had what must have been stock exhausts, they sounded S-W-E-E-T… in just a few seconds – most likely less

**BLINK** The first amber came on… the sounds of the motors seemed to pick up even a bit more… the crowd was hushed… who was going to win this clash of the titans? The 600 HP Viper or the 505 HP Vette? Beauty and brawn against the Beast…

**BLINK** The second amber illuminated… sounds of the cars waiting to do their burnouts were completely overshadowed by the screaming exhausts of the big LS7 Chevy and the enormous 8.4 liter MOPAR V10… Both cars had the crowd solidly on its feet, all eyes locked on the big block two-seaters, ready to alter the Earth’s rotation with the launch of over a thousand pound-feet of torque…

**BLINK** The third amber came on… instantaneously, both drivers slipped their feet from the clutches and the clutch pressure plates locked hard against fast-turning flywheels of the cars. In nano-seconds friction was gone and enormous torque forces were being applied against the drivelines of the two “V” cars… noses bounced upwards just a bit as both cars launched hard, fast and angrily, breaking the beams in perfect simultaneous starts… Thankfully, there wasn’t any “No Time” on either of these two cars windshields – we were going to see what sort of stuff these two finest American made sports cars had to lay down where it matters most – at the tree….

Screaming away, their exhaust still overpowering those of the Nova and the 350Z behind them doing their not-nearly-as-impressive burnouts, the Viper and the Z06 looked neck and neck. It seemed for a minute that they were welded together and running as one. Since we were seated about 75 feet beyond the starting line, we had a good view as both cars tore up the asphalt passing us heading towards glory 1320 feet away. They were nose and nose…

BAM! They both shifted hard and clean from first to second, with the crowd unable to discern who shifted first, it was THAT close… the finish was coming up fast and from where we sat, it looked like the Viper was beginning to pull the Z06 by the narrowest of margins – but that was merely a guess… we knew they had two more shifts to go… already, they were nearing the 1/8 mile…

Then, disaster struck for the Z06… the sound of a missed shift/RPM limiter being hit with the combined groan of the crowd – “Awwww….” – let us know that we were not going to see the results of this match-up just yet… the Z06 was slowing noticeable as the Viper tripped the lights with a very respectable 11.64/121 mph time… no one even watched the Z06 coast on through, knowing that Tom had to be miserable… but hey, the night was young and more races were sure to come… we all wanted to see the match-up again and we hoped that would be the case. Clearly, the announcer was as disappointed as the crowd…

“Aw, DANG! Poor Tom missed a shift there folks and we all know had bad that feels. But I’m sure he didn’t hurt that monster 427 any and he’ll be back around again in a little bit. Maybe we’ll try and get him and Nate lined up again, we’ll just have to see… and how about that time for the Mopar Snake? And eleven sixty-four is downright awesome folks! And, now, coming up next to the tree here at Tri-county is…”
We had watched enough… we didn’t even listen as the announcer gave out details about the Nova and the Nissan. We wanted to RUN!

“Ok, Brandon… I’ve seen enough. You ready to race?” Kelly was already moving out of the row of bleachers. Her answer was obvious…

Brandon still had that “I can’t believe it look” on his face. But then, a huge grin burst out and I knew he was back to reality…

“Darn straight, I am Steve…. Let’s go kick the tires and light the fires… I just hope I get to run that damned Viper or Tom's Z06!”

Brandon had no idea what was really in store for him this night... nor, did I.... and looking back, it was probably best we didn't...








As we walked back to our cars, the setting evening sun cast long, early spring shadows on the ground. The air was still calm but the sights and sounds of a busy drag strip were all around us; the smell of burning rubber and race gas exhaust, the intoxicating odor of alcohol/gas mixtures, charcoal grilles with everything from hot-dogs and burgers to steaks and chicken being whipped up, hoods up on cars, people under cars working on dropping exhausts cut-outs or tightening up collector bolts, people talking and bench racing – it was all out in full force. The announcer’s voice still filled the air with colorful descriptions of what cars were running and mini-bio’s of the drivers… out in the parking area the sounds of cars being started, tuned, shut-off, moving, and more filled the air….

Having to cross through the pre-stage area netted a great view of many of the cars there that night. Tri-County has 8 separate pre-stage lanes with the outer two being usually used by the full-bore boys. This night, they were being used for bikes – hot, fast and nasty bikes were there in great numbers. Busa’s, Ninja’s, R’s, and RR’s, Hondas, Kaw’s, Zukes – they were all there. Bikes that ranged from pure, off-the-showroom-floor stock to turbo’d and Nitroused street killers were there. Usually, the car crowd would complain about having to wait for the bike crowd to get their turn but tonight, everyone was in a good mood. While the bikers were tearing up 10’s, 9’s, and even some 8 second ET’s, this gave everyone a chance to peruse the rides in the pre-stage lanes.

As we passed through the 8 lanes of racers, one car after another caught my wondering eye… one that I had hoped to come across was the Graphite ’08 Viper that we saw rip the ‘07 Z06 a new one. Yet, it was nowhere to be found… huh, perhaps it was back on some trailer already… We continued on across the 8 lanes, enjoying the moving car-show of sorts that we watched as the owners either started up-moved-parked-shut down as the lines moved forward or, were pushed each time they had space to move up.

At Tri-County, they kept them moving. The Staff in the white shirts/pants with the red hats and red belts were everywhere and kept the pace moving quickly. Unless someone broke on the track, it’s not uncommon to get at least 4-5 runs or more per T&T night. Tonight looked to be no exception… so, we headed on out of the pre-stage area and across the pit/parking area to our cars, continuing to our cars…

This is kind of what it looks like at Tri-County on a busy night. That's me in the GN on a late summer's evening...



We saw the Black and white striped Shelby of Mira’s but it was parked over in the pit area and she wasn’t around. Parked next to it was the red SRT-8 that we saw run earlier but it, like the Shelby, was locked up tighter than a drum and while the racers weren’t nearby a LOT of onlookers were either looking over the cars, trying to peer into the windows, taking pictures or just talking and pointing at certain features on the cars. Even B and I stopped by and tried to get a good look at them but it was hard to see in with the dark window tint on both of them. We COULD see that the Shelby did not have stock wheels after all and that the SRT-8 looked to have a non-stock interior – Cobra Daytona seats sat where the highly bolstered SRT-8 seats were previously and as best we could tell, the entire interior of the big, bad Dodge had been pretty much stripped down to sheet metal. THIS car was obviously a serious player…

Ironically, our cars were just a few more rows back from where Mira was parked. We didn’t see Tom’s Z06 anywhere but by now, the lots were full and it was hard to see much of anything unless you were right on top of it with so many trailers, tow vehicles, and even enclosed trailers taking up space. Numerous areas had been staked out just as we did ours and tire/wheel combos were stacked on some pads, axle stands/jacks, and even tool boxes were nearly everywhere. Some resourceful racers might bring generators to run power tools or even air compressors – the sounds and sights were everywhere!

Nearing where our cars were parked, we could see quite a few people standing around B’s Shelby and others looking over my GN as well as Kelly’s GTO. Now, if you remember, Brandon’s Shelby is all black but without stripes which was pretty unique. We had yet to see another Shelby (even on eBay!) that did not have stripes. As Brandon and Stacy neared his car, he was almost attacked by interested Mustang fans and general car enthusiasts. When Kelly clicked the fob to unlock her GTO, a few people came up to her and began asking questions about the car. It continues to amaze me that these LS monsters were not any more popular than they are – they are solid low 13 second cars bone stock, have an interior that is BMW quality and run very, very well. Yet, it turned out that Kel’s goat was the ONLY one there that night of the new body style.

A few people were circling the GN, also talking and even a couple taking pictures. That’s one thing I’ve always loved about the Turbo Regals and especially the GN’s WE4’s – they garner attention anywhere you go. The stealthy look, the ‘take-no-prisoners’ stance and their bad-ass reputation make them a car that will definitely bring out the genuine car guy or gal.

Given all the onlookers, it took us a few minutes to finally get free (without being rude of course!) and begin our race prep. First, tire pressures were adjusted – Brandon was making his first pass or two on the stockers while Kel and I had to lower the pressure in our DR’s. I climbed beneath the GN on the passenger side and opened up the gaping dump tube off the Terry Houston D/P. I guess I’ll just have to end up buying the electronically operated Cut-Out myself since Santa missed the boat at Christmas!

In a matter of a few minutes, we were ready. Tire pressures were set, levels checked (including the alky tank in the GN), hoods were closed, helmets were readied and were placed on the passenger’s seats, and the evening’s racing for our little group was about to begin. Stacy headed back up into the stands with the cameras – we had brought both a couple of digitals still cameras as well as a new JVC direct-to-computer digital Camcorder – we wanted to have as much reference material to review as possible. Stacy, being an accomplished photographer, was happy to do the duties plus it gave her a great view of the track from up in the stands rather than leaning on the fence down at track level.

As I reached down to open the door of the GN, memories came flooding back as they always do each time I even look at this car... I usually think back briefly to the first time I saw a TR…

********---------********

My motorhead brother-in-law (who, like me, was always looking for something to fix his need-for-speed fix), having just sold his ’86 Trans-Am, brought over a rosewood intercooled TR to my house one sunny afternoon in early ’87. He told me about having bought the car and how fast it was – and that the V6 in the car would have absolutely no problem beating the shiny, white IROC Camaro I had that had the L98 350c.i. V8 in it.

I laughed at his statement. First of all, I couldn’t believe he had dumped his wicked T/A for THIS. But for him to say that THIS car would whoop my IROC’s ass? C’mon!!!! I laughed in his face!

[enigmadsm]

Actually, I laughed HARD! I asked him if he was serious – how in the hell could a V6 powered, ‘gramma-looking’ boat expect to even hang with my IROC, which was no slouch as a performance car back then.

“I’ll show you. Let’s go for a ride - YOU drive… you’ll see what I mean. If after we drive and you want to race, I run you for what ever amount you want to race…” he said.

I could have sworn I saw a little grin on his smug mug right then…

So, I opened the door of that Rosewood Turbo Buick – just as I was doing at the present, noting how huge and heavy that door is – and got behind the seat of his new car. Bill slid into the passenger’s side seat.

The first thing that caught my eye was the lack of instrumentation, at least in comparison to my IROC.

Here's what I was looking at:



“Bill, you can’t be serious… this car only has an 85mph speedo and essentially no gauges. Sure, it’s got a couple of cute little bar graphs there on the lower right-hand side (– is that supposed to be a TACH? -) but big deal. And THIS car is supposed to be street player?”

“Just don’t worry, Steve…. Start ‘er up…”

I STILL remember laughing and shaking my head in amazement. I figured that Bill had finally lost it…

I buckled up the seat belt, noting that at least it was easier to get the buckle to latch a lot easier than in the IROC. Turning the key, I was pleasantly surprised with how easy the LC2 (didn’t know it at that time) started and had to admit to Bill that I DID enjoy looking out over the broad hood with the power bulge in the middle. “3.8 SFI TURBO” proudly displayed what was beneath the hood, another feature that I had to admit I liked.

“But Bill – this car is only 3.8 liters? That’s what – around 230 Cubic Inches???? And this is gonna kill my IROC?”

Bill just grinned at me like a fox watching a cocky rooster crow his last crow…

I just shook my head again as I reached down, snicked the T-bar transmission lever into “R” and backed up to turn around. Pulling the lever farther back two clicks, the 200-4R was in “O” and out the drive we went. The first thing I noticed was how quiet the car actually was as well as the odd exhaust note. Now, I have to admit something I’m not really proud of – obviously, I had totally ignored what Buick had been quietly doing with their V6 Turbo cars back then. Like most motorheads, I was wrapped up with V8 performance – I had no clue that Buick was building the most evil wolf in sheep’s clothing that ever prowled the streets.

And at that moment, I still had no idea how much ‘car’ I was even driving. Although, I was pretty sure (and definitely wrong) that Bill was smoking some of the good stuff. (Ok, he was known for smoking the good stuff but that had nothing to do with the car!) We drove down a couple of miles and turned on a side road. The engine was up to temperature, there wasn’t any traffic on the road (an advantage of living out in the sticks), and so we rolled to a stop after making the turn.

“Steve, you have to build some boost to launch this car right.”

“Boost? What are you talking about, Bill?”

“Just do what I say… first, pull the shifter back out of “O” and put it in “D”. If you had a better feel for it, I would have you shift it manually but I think for now, this will get the message across…. Just begin to power brake her, watch the boost gauge and you’ll probably have trouble staying put without smoking these skinny-ass tires…”

There was that grin again.

Rather than laugh any more, I decided to do what he said. “Smoking the tires” on this V6 boat? OMG… what a riot!

Ok… tranny to “D”. Foot on the brake pedal... Right foot on the gas… and I began to apply the pressure to the go-pedal.

Right then and there, the entire attitude of the TR changed. No longer was I behind the wheel of gramma’s grocery getter… that was clear.

As I watched the ‘tach’ begin to light up some of the cute little lights, I felt the car rise up against the brakes. An odd and menacing “Ssssssss” began to emanate from up front somewhere… the little lights for the “BOOST” gauge began to glow…

It only took a second – I didn’t have enough pressure on the brake pedal (assuming that, really - how much would I actually need to hold back a VEE-SIX???) and the tires got looser than a twenty five cent hooker! Before I realized what was happening, white clouds were rising beneath the tires! I let off immediately – with what had to be a VERY shocked expression on my face. An odd ‘turkey-gobble’ sound came from beneath the hood… what the hell was THAT???

Bill was patient.

“Just do it again, Steve. This time, put some 'umph' into that brake pedal. Remember? I tried to tell you…”

There was that damn annoying grin again…]

Ok… let’s do this again. This time, I pressed HARD against the pedal… more gas, no tire smoke… the RPM’s began to build a bit… the boost ‘gauge’ began to indicate… this time, the tires held their place..

“Ok Steve – just a bit more boost…”

The boost gauge read about 3-5psi – it was hard to tell exactly what it was…

“Let her go Steve – and hang on…”

With those words, I passed from the unbelieving to the absolutely stunned.

The second I let off the brake, the back tires broke loose in vengeance… white smoky clouds billowed as we pretty much just sat and did a free-standing burnout. I was floored! I couldn’t get my IROC to do this on the BEST of days! And then, just as quickly, the car began to slide a bit sideways – I corrected the wheel…

We moved forward… the tires still spinning as if they were on ice… smoke still billowing and beginning to drift across the road… glancing down in the driver’s side rear view mirror I couldn’t even see past the rear fender… the tires bit and we were OFF!

The V6 SFI was SCREAMING! BAM! First-second shift came and went and my neck was jerked like it had never been snapped by a stock V8, much less a little old vee-six! We were TEARING down the road… the engine’s previous noise – Sssssss – was now gone; in its place was a banshee like whistle of death…

BAM! The 2-3 shift came and by now, the little 85mph speedo was buried! I finally let off it and let the Jekyll and Hyde car slow back down to ~60mph…

I looked over at Bill… I was speechless…

He just grinned again… “Still wanna run this with your Camaro?”

I just grinned back this time. I was now a convert.

“Nah… why waste my gas. I have GOT to get me one of THESE!” Less than a month later, I bought my first GN – a new ’87 hardtop, just like the one I drive now. The rest is, as they say, history…

*********------------*********

As I pulled the door shut on the GN, listening to the sounds of the race track get muffled, and as I put the key into the ignition, I smiled to myself. EVERY time a Turbo Buick fan gets in his car, he is reminded of how he came to know what these cars are REALLY all about… this was no exception…

I fired the LC2, watched B pull out with Kel in tow and away we went, heading for the Pre-stage area. Tri-County’s driving lanes are all paved so dust isn’t a worry. Pushing the tiny tab on the door to lower the driver’s window, the sounds and smells came racing back into the car. I watched Kel’s GTO weave down the lanes behind B’s Shelby… off to the side I noticed that other cars were heading to merge into our lane… drive, turn… weave around… notice that there looked to be a gray Viper behind that old Malibu back there (?)… was it the ’08?... finally… we’re at the pre-stage lanes…

The traffic is stacked just right so that Kel and I are opposite each other. Brandon was the next row over from Kelly and just as we shut down to wait for the lines to move, I saw Tom’s Z06 pull up opposite B’s GT500…. Ah… this should be fun to see (if I can!)… a new Z06 versus B’s Shelby… just then, I look up into the rear view mirror and notice the low, snarky look of a sports car glide in and park right behind Kelly, the sound of its V10 burbling and spitting like a nest of angry snakes…

It’s dark and gray… it has a scooped and slatted hood… yeah, it is THE car… the 600hp Viper is right behind Kelly’s Goat… DANG! Now, neither B nor I would be lined up right opposite this guy… oh well… maybe the next run…

Or… maybe – just maybe – sooner?

To be continued…

Time seemed to have stopped now that we were sitting in the lanes, ready to run for the first time tonight. To my immediate left was an ’03 or ’04 Azure Blue Mach 1 and on over in the #1 lane was either a Honda or an Acura 2-door coupe with a few stickers in the windows but I couldn’t tell for sure. Right in front of me was one of the many 5.0 Mustangs on hand this night, this one looking to be a fairly stock late ‘90’s model in Ford’s dark red color with not much more than exhaust and tires. Directly in front of Kelly was one of the late-model Ford Lightning’s – a white one that also looked to be stock; even the tires and wheels looked like the truck came straight from the dealership.

Over in front of Brandon – who was in Lane 5 with me being in 3 and Kelly in Lane 4 – was a classic Musclecar; a ’69 Oldsmobile 442. It didn’t appear to have the W-30 emblems so my best guess was that it was a standard 442. It was black with the white vertical stripe that dropped from off the hood and on down the front fenders right behind the front wheel wells. However, if it wasn’t a W-machine, it didn’t matter – the car sounded very, very healthy. I could hear HIS exhaust note from where I was sitting two lanes away; no doubt about it - he was running open headers. The car had a big cam in it because the idle note sounded like it was just one stroke away from dying but when the guy would juice the accelerator, the throttle response was crisp and instantaneous. It would be fun watching him run.

I kept looking out my passenger’s side rear view mirror to see if anyone was getting out of the Viper. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and after we had moved ahead again, I got out of the GN and walked back to the car. Who I saw driving the car absolutely floored me…

It looked like a dead ringer for Ned.

No, I’m not kidding – this guy is an absolute identical twin (if one could possibly exist) for the late Ned Reynolds. But supposedly, this guy’s name was “Nate”. Hmmm…. Interesting…

And the odd thing? When the driver saw me walk up to the window of the gray asp he didn’t wave, smile, nod or anything… He just looked at me like he had seen a ghost himself.

“Hey there” I said, trying to start off friendly. “I hear your name is Nate Reynolds, right? Man, you have GOT to be Ned’s twin brother – dude, you look JUST like him.”

Mr. Personality just nodded at me; his eyes locked in a stare at me as if I had just run over his puppy…

“Yes. I’m Nate. I’m… uh, I’m Ned’s unc- er no, I’m his brother…”

Now THAT was an odd introduction, don’t you think?

And then – it happened… another ‘personality’ appeared from nowhere as his countenance changed…

“Har-har-de-HAR, Buick Boy! A lot of people here have confused me for Ned. But, as YOU know, Ned is dead, right? I’m his twin from Pittsburg and I, uh, came over here to help Mira sort out the car thing. HAR-HAR-HAR!!! Poor Ned – now he’s dead, his grieving wife is dealing with her loss – HAR-HAR-HAR – and she just doesn’t know what to do with all them cars, you hear me?”

Ok. This was too weird for even The Twilight Zone. “Buick Boy?” If THIS guy was not Ned Reynolds in the flesh, he was an exact clone. The looks... The demeanor of that arrogant ass... But that LAUGH… oh man, how many people in the world would have a laugh like THIS one? Something was up for sure… and “Buick Boy?”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that I like this new Viper and maybe we can line up against each other to-“

He cut me off with a flippant wave of his hand.

“Listen, pal... I just ran what was supposed to be the strongest contender here tonight that was essentially stock. You saw what I did to the guy – I’m sure he’s all sorts of embarrassed right now. If you happen to be lined up across from me, I’ll give you some advice – don’t waste your gas. I know ALL about your ancient GN and how bad it’s supposed to be and –“
It was MY turn to cut HIM off.

“How do you know about MY car? You haven’t seen it run yet and you aren’t from around here, having supposedly just got to town right? So what makes you think it would be a, quote ‘waste of gas’ unquote, to run me? I was just being friendly but frankly dude, your attitude sucks. Oh – and one more thing. It’s a shame your brother is dead – he would tell you that that black GN over there is not a car to take lightly. But then again, if I’m right, you probably already know that. See you later, Pal…”

With that, I just nodded my head and walked back over to my car, flipping Viper-guy the one finger salute. I could see Kelly and Brandon craning their necks to see who I was talking to but at that point, the cars had begun to move up again so they couldn’t just hop out and run over to talk. At this point, there was one more car in front of each of us to be staged as the pairs were sorted across the rows. We would be pulling through the actual track entryway and onto the track in just minutes.

I’ve got to tell you – seeing “Nate” really was strange. As I sat there boiling mad in the GN, my helmet at the ready, I noticed Kelly trying to get my attention. I rolled the window down.

“Who is the Viper driver, hon? You look pissed…”

“Kelly, if I told you who I THINK it is, you would think I’m nuts. Hey – do you remember anyone named Nate Reynolds being listed in Ned’s estate as an heir or such?”

“I was just going to tell you that. No, there was NO one named Nate Reynolds listed on any of the paperwork we did for his insurance/estate work. NO ONE by that name at all. Bill? Yes. He was on there, as were the boys and Mira. But there was definitely no ‘Nate’. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I think that this guy is NOT -“

By this time, the track officials were ready to move the pair of cars in front of Kelly and me. When the cars started in front of us, Kelly couldn’t hear what I was trying to yell over the noise, especially since the 442 in front of B just lit off with a thunderous, rumpity-rump-rump roar of the big block Olds…

“What?” Kelly yelled back…

“I’m saying…” VaROOOM! Bap-de-bappety-bap-bap…” The words were overwhelmed again by the exhaust note of the vicious 442…

Just then, the Lightning in front of Kelly lurched and then stopped, right in front of the track official. Meanwhile, the 5.0 in front of me was already making the turn through the entryway into the track and the official standing there was waving frantically for the Lightning jockey to pull on in as well. I saw the Lightning driver hold his hands up as if to say, “I don’t know!” so immediately the track official motioned for him to get out of the truck and help him push it out of the way. In a split second, two other white shirted officials convened and the blown Ford was shoved aside.

At the same time, the guy who had been waving at the White Lightning began waving for Kelly to pull through to be matched up against the Mustang who was in front of me. I know she was disappointed because we wanted to run together but the track guys were insistent. So, she slipped her helmet over her head, fired the GTO, and pulled on through.

Which meant – you guessed it – you-know-who pulled up between B and me. To B’s right was Tom in his new Z06… but to mine was none other than -

Mr. Ass-master, Viper-guy, Nate/Ned Reynolds.

Almost immediately, I watched the 442 in front of Brandon and the car beyond the Olds (a mid-80’s Camaro with a huge cowl-induction hood) pull through… and so forth… as the officials worked off the pairs in front of us.

A lot of things were running through my head at this point. First – how would Kelly do? In all likelihood, she will run before the track official comes back around to move the Viper and me on out onto the track. Secondly, this whole ‘Ned/Nate’ thing really bothered me… if my suspicions were correct, Nate is none other than good ol’ Ned. But if that WAS the case, why was he back? HOW can it be? Why fake a death? (It was then the money thing hit me so I think that question was answered.) Hell, HOW could he fake a death like that? Getting a death certificate, getting a doc to buy off on the fact he was ‘dead’ IF he wasn’t – how do you make THAT happen? And on top of that, the racing! I wanted to enjoy the evening – for now, the evening had the makings of a CSI Miami show…

I didn’t have long to mull it over. I could hear the announcer beginning to introduce Kelly and the Mustang to the fans. Thankfully, I had a play-by-play of what was going on the minute Kelly pulled her Yellow Jacket ’05 GTO out onto the apron leading into the water box area.

“Folks, look what we have pulling up in the near-side Mobil One lane – it’s a gorgeous bright yellow 2005 GTO owned and driven by none other than another familiar face around this place – Kelly Morton. Many of you know Kelly’s husband, Steve, for the sinister Buick Grand National we’ve watched make a pass or two down the blacktop. Well, it says here that this will be Kelly’s first pass in the GTO and it ought to be a great race. In the far-side Summit Racing lane is Wild Bill King. Bill is bringing his ’99 Mustang GT to the fight here tonight and the form tells me that his car is mostly stock. Should be a good race here, race fans! Let’s watch them do their burnouts and warm the tires…”

I smiled, trying to imagine how Kelly must feel wheeling the big GTO through the water box… Her car is an A4 (automatic) and is pretty darn quick. Kelly? She’s a great driver but this would be her first time with the Poncho. Pontiac said the car was a 13.0 car but as we all know, manufacturers have a way of making some pretty ‘optimistic’ claims about their cars’ performance. We had read on the GTO forums though that it wasn’t uncommon for a car on the right track to pull a 13.0 or even a very-high 12.9x slip supposedly bone-stock. We were about to find out – all her car has for mods is a set of Nitto 555R drag radials.

“Wow! Look at all that smoke people! Kelly sure knows how to do a John Force-style burnout! I bet she took 6 months life off those tires!”

Hmm… perhaps I should have coached her a bit more? Well, I did have to admit that I told her to make sure she got the DR’s warm…

“Ok… let’s watch as these two go at it… both are pre-staged now… now, both stage lights are lit…”

I could hear the Mustang pick up some rpms – must be a stick car. I could also hear Kelly bring the GTO up against the converter… I had a feeling that ol’ Wild Bill might just have bitten off more than he could chew with Kel’s GTO…

“Here we go folks – THEY’RE OFF! Who will get to the line first? Looks like Bill’s Mustang might have got a little bit of a holeshot on the GTO but man, it looks like the big yellow Goat is about to eat some pony…”

I tried to imagine it all – Kelly would have probably been treed by the guy in the ‘Stang due to her unfamiliarity with launching the GTO. But that LS2 had 400 healthy ponies and a lot of torque – it should be a good one… at this point, the track officials were back to my left, about to loose the Acura and the Mach in the #1 and #2 lanes and then – it was go-time for me and the 600hp Viper…

“Wow! What a great race, race-fans! The GTO just simply reeled that Mustang in and tied its hooves GOOD, I’m tellin’ ya now! The GTO ran a solid 13.19 at almost 109 mph and Wild Bill’s Mustang just didn’t have the hay to keep up. Poor little pony got a respectable 13.89 but as you saw, it just wasn’t enough… up next? We’ve got a nasty 442 and Karl Kintz in his killer Camaro… driving the 442 is…”

I wished I had been there with Kelly to see the smile on her face! Dayum! What a great run for her first time. Obviously, heating the hides was what was needed… the roar of the crowd when she won the race told us all that she was definitely a favorite!

Just as I was celebrating for Kelly, I happened to look over to my right. ‘Nate’ had his windows up but since he didn’t have any tint yet, I could see him looking my way. He had on a black open-face helmet and I could see him glaring at me and the car. When he noticed I was staring back, he smiled an odd, Ted Bundy-ish grin and then looked back to the front of his car.

I could hear the 442’s burnout… I could hear the Camaro do its burnout… I wasn’t paying any attention to the announcer any more and was hoping to get a glance at Kelly coming back down the return road after having picked up her time slip – one I knew she was very proud of.

As the 442 and the Camaro launched and left the line, the track official was in front of my GN and the Viper, motioning us through… ok… focus time… I pulled the transmission shifter back into “D”, bypassing the “O” and began to pull on around and through; out onto the deep apron behind the water box the Viper mirrored my moves, sliding into the Summit Racing side of the track…

Pulling onto the track and being able to finally get a glimpse of the action from ground level is an experience everyone should do... The smells of race cars being launched in anger, the sights of the fans in the stands on either side of the track… seeing the people who were leaning up against the fence that was lined with signs from vendors such as Valvoline, Jegs, Comp Cams, and so forth, their faces eager to see race after race after race… watching the bulbs light up on the tree as cars pulled up to pre-stage, then stage… then watch the bulbs began to cycle as the starter hit the start button… listening to the engine sounds; oh the wonderful mechanical symphonies that one could hear by being directly behind race cars at launch… hearing the roar of the crowd, the excitement of the announcer’s voice - there is nothing like it in the world.

I already had my full-face helmet buckled and the visor was down… it was snug and nearly too much so… the strap and buckle were up against my chin and lower jaw, hugging the brain-bucket down tight upon my head…

I watched the pair at the tree leave and then the car in front of me (the blue Mach) and the Acura in front of Nate’s Viper pulled through the box. Watching FWD cars like the Acura do a burnout is always an odd sight – seeing the front tires wider than the rears (on serious FWD racecars) and even wheelie bars is just something an old-school racer like myself just can’t get close to… The Acura did an IMPRESSIVE burnout and as I watched him prepare to stage, I saw two white jets of vapor shoot skyward from the cowl area of the car…. Hmm… the Mach might just have his hands full if that Ricer is set up right…

Less than 14 seconds later (actually, 12.30 seconds later for the Acura), the Mach was shutdown. Sure, the Mach must have been stock with his 13.44 time slip but that little FWD car, with its gas-assisted power-adder, took the Mach to school…

As the Mach and Acura launched seconds earlier, the guy who had been keeping water in the water box via his green hose and nozzle motioned that it was time… although to my left I could see with my peripheral vision that the Viper had driven around the box and had only backed into the edge of the water, I pretty much blanked him out… winning this one was important and I did not want to screw up…

I already had engaged the radiator fan ‘manual on’ mod switch that was located beneath the ash tray cover in my GN to make sure the coolant was as cold as possible. That wasn’t an issue – the Scanmaster II showed the coolant to be a nice 157*… I had already turned on the Alky Injection progressive controller that I had bought and installed from Alky Control (thanks Razor) and it had been dialed in before… the adjustable waste gate controller was already set for 25-26psi of boost with the cutout open… the rear tires had 18psi in them (just a guess for this first run) and the fronts were at 40psi… fuel pressure was set right on the money… new fuel filter… fresh oil… it was all ready to go… now, it was really down to just taking the ride…

I pulled through the water box, pressed the brake pedal, engaged the line lock and began the burnout… to my left, I saw that the Viper had just finished his burnout and was beginning to pull up to stage… I had the transmission in “2”, brought the rpms up, did a solid burnout and released the Line lock, scooting ahead as the tires bit the pavement…

Keeping my foot on the brake, I allowed the GN to roll slowly into the beams…

The Pre-Stage bulbs were lit… so were those for the Viper…

The Viper lit his Stage bulbs just before I did… immediately, I engaged the transbrake and began to roll the accelerator forward… the shifter in “1”… hitting the ‘Recall’ feature on the Scanmaster ensured I would have accurate O2 and KR readings…

Before the tree started to fall, boost was coming up… having the 3200 stall converter made the launch fairly dramatic if the boost was ~8-10psi… well, assuming the tires didn’t melt…

*BLINK* First ambers... boost at 4psi and climbing, rpms well above 2000 now…

*BLINK* Second ambers… boost now at 7 psi and rising… rpms near 3000…the turbo was beginning to make some noise… a sound I never tire of… sssssssSSSSSSS…. The exhaust noise of the LC2 through an open dump had people staring… I couldn’t hear the announcer but I KNEW he was talking about a David versus Goliath match up… he usually used that analogy every time I was up against a big V8 opponent with the Buick…

*BLINK* Third ambers… boost at ~9psi and the GN is straining to be loosed… the hiss from beneath the hood is no longer a hiss at all… it is a shrieking valkyrie of destruction… the Viper’s exhaust can barely be heard but I knew that Nate had it up where he wanted it…

I disengaged the transbrake as I floored the accelerator… all as the third ambers dimmed and the green light cam on…

We were OFF…

Thanks to the suspension mods I had done over the winter, there was no more violent twisting of the car as it launched. It came off the line HARD but straight and true, the front tires nearly leaving the pavement as I felt the steering go ultra-light for just a second or so… but the car planted itself and leaped from the line… the red LED light on the A-Pillar pod was already lit, having set up the Progressive alcohol system to begin spraying at ~8psi of boost…

To my left, the Viper did the same but it did not rear its head or swivel to one side… it too launched hard, straight and true… neck and neck with the GN…

I watched the rpms, shifted from 1 to 2 at 6000 and felt the shift snap my neck… Janis Transmissions in Akron rebuilt the tranny and Vince’s work is second to none… his skills were no more evident than at this very moment… the liquid filled Autometer Pro-Comp Boost gauge read a solid 25psi… the electric fuel pressure gauge was where it should be, ~63psi with full boost… the numbers were looking right… stare at the track, Steve – don’t veer left or right… DRIVE THE CAR!!!!

Taking a fleeting glimpse to my left, I saw Nate still with me – and NOT pulling ahead… if anything, by the 1/8th mile, I was beginning to feel like I MIGHT have half a fender on him but at that speed, with the shifting and watching and driving, it was REALLY hard to tell… or, did he have half a fender on me?...

The 2-3 shift came and went and then it was time to cross the line… noting that my speed had to be north of 120 mph, I didn’t risk another glance left but I knew it was going to be close… it FELT like I had won but I just couldn’t tell for sure –

UNTIL I crossed the line – at that exact moment, I looked left…

The Viper was….

…


….


…..


……


…….


….. at least a car length behind. The new king was already dead… YESSSS!

As we slowed and turned off the track onto the return road to pick up the slips, the Viper stayed several cars back… I slowed at the shack and already had the window down… another white shirted official handed me the yellow top copy of the ET slips…

Right lane – 10.92 @126 mph…

Left lane – 11.29 @ 123 mph…

The win was sweet… yet, the night was young… I had to wonder – how long would it last?…

It wouldn’t take long to answer that question…

Actually, not very long at all…








Part XIV

As I was slowing from the return road to pull back into the pre-staging area, I saw the black/white striped Shelby pulling into the lanes at the same time. I wondered aloud if she would be in a lane near me.

I didn’t have to wonder long – as I pulled into lane 6 Mira wheeled the big Snake into lane 5 to my left. She had her windows down and just gave me a fleeting glance but that was about it. As we both slowed to a stop to take our place for the next run, I noted that we were side by side – this was going to be a good one. I had hoped to get up against Brandon but he was nowhere to be seen yet. I knew he had run in the next pair behind me but I had no clue how he might have done. I remembered that he had been up against Tom’s new 505hp Vette so he would have had his hands full since both cars were stock but the Vette was probably a good 400-500 lbs lighter, if not more.

About then, I heard Kelly’s voice from somewhere behind me and off to my right.

“Steve! Steve!”

Glancing over, I saw her and Brandon walking my way as they were threading themselves between the cars that were returning to line up again for another run.

“Did you see me run? Wasn’t it awesome!?”

The smile on her face said it all! A 13.19 for a stock GTO on DR’s wasn’t bad at all for her first try in it.

“That’s AWESOME, Kel! Good for YOU!”

I gave her a big hug as B stood there not looking nearly as happy.

“Ok, B – spill it. How’d you do against Tom’s Z-06?”

“Well, not bad I guess but he still took me. I had a LOT of trouble getting traction at the line on those stock tires. Actually, traction was non-existent. And Tom didn’t miss a shift THIS time – here; look…”

He handed me the slip – Brandon had a respectable 12.79 at 119.6.

“Not bad at ALL, Brandon! Not bad at ALL! Man, that’s great for your first time with the monster.”

He finally grinned.

“Yeah, I thought so too… But look at what Tom ripped off…”

Wow! A solid 12.15 at 121 mph! Needless to say, Tom did a great job this time. And in doing so, he shot Brandon down on his first trip to the track. I didn’t want to say it in so many words, but I had a feeling that Tom’s Z-oh-SICK was going to be doing that all night long to Brandon’s stock Snake – in the event they were paired again.

“Not bad Brandon. Man - and he’s got you by a few hundred pounds... Of course, he’s still learning his car too so maybe you guys can get another run in against each other tonight.”

Kelly just stood there beaming, her yellow GTO a couple of lanes to my left, just sitting there and already drawing a crowd around it. You just can’t argue with the fact that the Yellow Jacket GTO is one striking machine.

Just then, both Kel and B noticed who was to my left – the Shelby. I hadn’t noticed but Mira had gotten out of her car and was leaning against the driver’s door talking to none other than Bill Reynolds. I didn’t see the SRT-8 anywhere nearby but seeing that it had run early on, we guessed it must be up ahead somewhere if it was in fact in the lanes.

With all the track noise and the announcer’s PA blaring, we couldn’t hear what Mira and Bill were talking about but it kind of looked like they were also being careful to NOT be overheard – Bill was leaning in closely to Mira, perhaps just to hear her over the din of the track or perhaps to ensure they didn’t have to talk too loudly.

Brandon broke the brief silence of our ‘trying-not-to-stare’ stares…

“Any guess what they’re being all hush-hush about, Steve?” Actually, it DID look like they were whispering to each other – or at least attempting to…

“I’m not sure B… maybe she’s asking for clues on how to race the GN?”

We all got a good laugh at that one. From the way Mira was acting, I didn’t think she seemed to care who was opposite the GT500 at this point in the evening.

About this time, the lanes began moving again so we all got back into our cars. Brandon was a couple of cars back behind me. He had said he was going to make at least one more pass on the stock F1’s but he didn’t hold out much hope. What he WAS hoping for was a nice 11-second pass on the stockers but he didn’t seem to think he was going to be able to pull it off. Time would tell….

Kelly looked to be going up against a mid-80’s looking light blue Malibu that sounded like it had a healthy big block in it. Those cars seem to be gaining popularity around the tracks from what we’ve seen – even the G-body Oldsmobile’s are beginning to sprout up here and there with warmed over 350’s to loaded up blown and Nitroused motors of other sizes. And the neat thing is that you don’t always see old people (as in, my age) driving them – they seem to have really gained some attention from the young crowd. At least everyone that isn’t driving a Camaro or a Mustang anyways…

In minutes we were back to the front of the line, just waiting our turn to be waved out onto the track. Mira was still to my left and I had to admit to myself that her Shelby sounded downright wicked. I had a chance to look over her rear tires closer – definitely slicks on black wheels of some brand and I was pretty sure they were aluminums. The exhaust sounded perhaps a bit throatier than stock but I wasn’t sure. The “NO TIME” shoe polish was still on the rear quarter-glass. With my GN having just run a 10.92, I knew I was about to see what her car was capable of. I had no way of knowing if it was stock under the hood but given the fact that she had decimated Marty’s potent Mustang earlier – that had ran an 11.40 ET – I knew that I was going to have my own hands full…

I watched Kelly pull on through with the Malibu right behind her. In just a few moments, the track official began to wave for Mira to wheel her Shelby in with me right behind its wide duck-tail spoiler and gleaming white stripes. There was no disputing that this was a beautiful car – it looked a little large and wide (especially in comparison to the Mustangs its “retro” look was designed to emulate) but in spite of that, it had a beauty of its own with a sinister attitude that pretty much said, “Try me…”.

Looking at the “SHELBY” logo on the upper left side of the rear as I followed her out and onto the apron, I wondered why they even bothered putting Carroll’s name on it. Given, he had aided some in the development but still, the car was NOT built by him or at his own performance center where the new Shelby GT Mustangs were being built as were his fabled GT350’s and GT500’s from the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s. To me, unless it has the heart and soul of Shelby development, it just isn’t a Shelby… but hey, I digress… let’s get back racing…

I got to see Kelly run against the Malibu – but it really wasn’t much of a race. The Malibu ran a VERY impressive 11.40-something to another fairly consistent – but still a new personal best – 13.05 for Kelly’s goat. I knew she had to be happy with that. I wasn’t sure when B was going to be up but my guess was that it would be a little bit because he was at least 2 rows of cars behind Kel and me.

The big Mustang got in the water box just before me and began her burnout. In a split second, she had the slicks boiling with billowing clouds of white smoke rolling from out of the wheel wells. My GN’s burnout was a little less spectacular - but given that I was running Drag Radials, I wasn’t ashamed of it by any means (as burnouts go). But Mira’s would have impressed even John Force – and I really didn’t think that she was using a line-lock! She looked to be doing a second-gear warm-up and just revved it and then dumped the clutch while heel-toeing the brake/go-pedals. Even I had to agree – the girl can definitely handle a car at the strip.

The Shelby motored to the pre-stage beam… I allowed the GN to follow in nearly at the same time… then, I pulled on into the “Staged” beam and both sets of ambers were now lit on my side of the tree (the left side of the track)…

Mira seemed to be playing a waiting game… she sat there for several seconds before pulling into the “Staged” beam, illuminating both yellow bulbs on her side. I had already locked the trans brake, reset the Scanmaster, etc… but I hadn’t began to build boost, just in the event she might play such a game and hope for me to load or heat-soak the car prematurely… however, I wasn’t born yesterday…

As soon as I saw her light the second bulb, my foot began to roll into the accelerator… as the tree began to drop, the boost began to rise dramatically, the LC2 straining hard against the converter…

2psi… 4psi… 6psi… 8psi… I was going to let it all hang out this time… I knew I would need every trick the Buick had in it to take the black Shelby and a higher boost launch (IF the DR’s would hold it) was going to be needed…

By the time the AutoMeter Pro-Comp boost gauge read 8psi, the third amber was just beginning to come on… for me, time seems to slow down when the tree begins to drop… it’s as if things go into slow motion and I’m sort of in a Twilight-Zone movie where you hear voices speaking in a very slow rumbly tone that you can barely discern, where you a clock’s “Tick” seems to last for 2-3 seconds, where light bulbs can almost be heard to “CLICK” on or off… I think that might be because of the intense concentration I try to bring to the track but either way, it can be pretty weird when you think about it…

As soon as I saw/’heard’ the third amber begin to light, I released the transbrake… in my mind’s eye, I could see the GT500’s rear wheels begin to sl-o-o-o-o-ly rotate forward, wrinkling the slick’s sidewalls as they dig in hard for traction… I felt the nose of the Buick lurch HARD upward just a bit and prayed that the DR’s wouldn’t lose their bite…

We launched as if both cars were welded together… since Mira had requested “NO TIME” I wouldn’t find out what her RT was but I had no doubt they were essentially identical. She gave me no quarter at the line…

I heard the screaming hiss of the turbo… the howl of the 5.4’s blower also split the air in slow-motion fashion… I heard Mira power shift the 6-speed like a pro, not missing a beat and not bouncing the rev-limiter… I snicked each shift flawlessly and still at the 660 mark – which I later saw had been passed by the GN in just under 7 seconds - we were dead even it felt… I didn’t dare look right in the event I would lose focus, miss a shift point… or even jinx the race…

I wanted – no, I HAD – to beat this Shelby… for some odd reason; it seemed to be a matter of pride...

By the 1000’ mark – a scant 2 seconds later according to the slip that I picked up later – it still felt interminably close…

I didn’t look over… I kept the pedal matted, watching the boost gauge peg itself at a robust 26psi, wavering only slightly with each shift as the engine loading changed with the gearing… possibly a little more than 26 psi – I just couldn’t focus on the gauge for any good length of time… the end of the track was coming up in a blur

The exhaust of the 3.8 SFI SCREAMED as the compressed gases were hurtled out into the atmosphere in a near deafening roar in spite of the quieting effect of the big turbo under the hood… to my right, the Shelby wasn’t even any more… Mira was NAILING each shift, the sound of the blown V8 sounding sinfully wicked as she unloaded the drive train just enough to bang each next higher gear… each shift caused the big Pony to jerk hard as well over 500 lb/ft of torque was being unleashed mercilessly through the driveline…

She drove a flawless race…

The black Buick also performed flawlessly… the time slip would later prove that it had ran a new best time for the combo that was installed in the car that day…

In less than two seconds, I crossed the finish line and let off the pedal… time instantaneously seemed to become real once more, the slow-motion effect brought on by the intense concentration was gone… noises were not slowed any longer; the fact that I was well over 120 mph was now apparent as I tried to slow the 3600lb projectile that was racing unfettered for the sand traps if I didn’t get it whoa’d….

It was at that very precise moment that I crossed the finish line - the single most important part of the run after the launch; the time of the race that determines who tastes the sweet taste of victory or the bitter agony of defeat – that I knew what had happened…

I couldn’t hear the announcer’s near-screams into the microphone… I didn’t hear him yell the time or mph I had just ran…

I couldn’t see the race from the vantage point of the on-track and above track camera’s that are on during a big event - but not this T&T night…

Nor could I see some fans who braved standing at the finish line – “Because that’s what REALLY matters, you know…” – wave in joyful sharing of the spoils of victory for one car or those who simply shook their head in an “I can’t believe what I just saw…” sort of way..

But I COULD see one thing… one very, very important detail just as I broke my intense focus on the race crossing the finish line…

*

*

*

*

*
I could clearly see that Mira was ahead of me…


By at least a car length… the black Shelby had beaten me. And the worst part of all?

*

*

*

*

*

*

I heard the engine noise from Mira’s Snake change/drop just before we crossed the line… She had let off before crossing the stripe… She had lifted.

As I followed her into the turnout area and onto the return road, I tried to think if I had done anything wrong… I couldn’t.

The simple fact was that I had been beaten… beaten down by new technology, brute strength, and by a woman who can flat-out drive a car like very few men I know…

As I pulled up to get the time slip showing I had ran a 10.83, even the official who handed me the yellow paper had a look on his face of what seemed like disbelief…

“Man, I never thought I would see your Buick lose to a Mustang… Your car is awesome dude but that Shelby is wicked, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t being flippant. He wasn’t being a smartass. He was being honest…

The black and white striped Shelby GT500 and its driver definitely proved without a doubt at that very moment that they were serious players….

Funny, isn’t it? It’s funny that, when you win a big race, the drive down the return road is fun; full of the sweet smells and sounds of victory… even the sky seems a little bluer, the clouds a little fluffier, the air a little cooler – when you win…

But when you lose? It’s quiet… other than the sound of your car, of the air whistling by, of the pavement beneath the wide tires… it’s quiet….

No blue sky… no fluffy clouds...

No cool air…

And you realize just how INTENSE you were during the pre-race, during the burnout, during the staging, during the launch…

During the race…

But then – the finish line comes back up in your mind’s eye… you replay each millisecond of the run, searching for an answer that never really comes…

Because, in the end – you simply lost to a faster car, possibly to a better driver…

And my friend, that is a BITTER pill for me to swallow…

I don’t know about you – but I HATE to lose… to anyone. Yeah, I know all about the “There’s always someone faster, someone quicker, someone who is a better driver” saying.

But I even hate THAT.

Don’t get me wrong – I won’t pick on a 9 second terror; I know what my car can do in its given state of tune. But I was SURE – damned sure – that I could take the black Shelby.

I didn’t… I lost…

And that drive back up the return road was one of the longest drives of my life… the yellow slip flapping gently in the breeze as it rested still in my left hand, my elbow leaning out the open window and the words of the track official that I had just taken the slip from still ringing in my ears…

“Man, I never thought I would see your Buick lose to a Mustang, Steve… Your car is awesome dude but that Shelby is wicked, isn’t it?... isn’t it?... isn’t it?...”

Isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

And worse yet, I could still hear Mira lift – just ever so much – right before we crossed the line.

Why was that ‘worse yet’?

Because I KNEW that she would have beaten me by more than she did…

And - for all I knew, her Shelby wasn’t a whole lot more than stock… I guess that was the worst part of all… what WAS it that just beat me?

It wouldn’t take long to find out…







I can’t tell you how it frustrated me to lose to the Shelby. I knew she had a wicked fast car but to have run a 10.83 and still lose told me that her car was definitely tweaked more than just an exhaust and tires.

As I got back to the lanes, both B and Kel were there to meet me, the looks of disbelief were as evident on their faces as it was on mine.

“Man, Steve – what has she GOT in that car? I mean, I love my Shelby and all, but still – that car is NOT close to stock…”

Brandon never was one to mince words and what he said was running through my mind too.

“I don’t know Steve…” It was Kelly this time… “There were two guys leaning on the fence, one of them saying that he was working that day at the shop when they were tuning her car. Supposedly, the car has a tune, upper and lower pulleys, a CAI, exhaust including headers, a new MAF, new rear gears, and slicks. Now, maybe he was just BS’n’ but he didn’t sound like it – he sounded like he did actually know what he was talking about. He also claimed he witnessed the dyno-tune but that he had to sign a statement not to reveal the results. Ever heard of that?”

“Can’t say I have Kel but I do know that Ned threw a lot of money around and money can just about buy you anything, including silence…”

Both nodded agreement.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter – my GN isn’t stock either but damn, I thought I had her. But the worst part is hearing her lift at the end… it could have been worse…”

Neither said anything. Apparently, they knew she had lifted too…

For the most part, the rest of the evening went by pretty quick. I did get to line up against a wicked fast late ‘90’s-model Eclipse GSX that ran a VERY respectable 11.17 against my 10.89. He actually got me out of the hole (damned little AWD monster!) but I reeled him by the eighth mile marker. It was heavily modded and well done - it had a huge Evo III Big 16G turbo, a “Slow Boy Racing” front mount intercooler, a new 6-bolt motor that had been bored out to a 2.3 liter (I think that’s what he said) with Eagle Rods and Ross Pistons, ARP Studs (head and mains), DSMLink ECU, HKS cam gears and turbo timer, Injen intake, Greddy Blow Off Valve (BOV), and – well, you get the picture; it was done right - the car was pretty awesome and had destroyed a lot of wannabe’s wishes that night. The guy was really cool too – we talked cars for quite a while. If I were going the DSM route, his car would be one I would copy.

I also got a chance to line up against Brandon’s Shelby. By that point, he had put the drag radials on, having only got a best ET of 12.06 on the stock tires. He just couldn’t get the power to the ground. But – with the DR’s, he did get into the 11’s with his best run of the night (the one against Kelly’s GTO actually) of 11.90 something. He was damned happy but he also admitted he needed more practice in launching the big snake. He seemed to either bog it or blow the tires off.

Kelly was happy with her night too. Her best ET with the GTO came against one of the numerous and impressive 'Stangs there that night. The car sounded great and looked great too – it was a gorgeous Teal ’93 Cobra that was stock other than a CAI and exhaust according to the girl driving it. Kelly ripped off an outstanding 12.99 @110mph against the stock Cobra’s 13.34 – it was a great race to watch and with Kel’s Yellow goat and the Teal Cobra, it was a colorful one too.

The sun had long set and by a little after nine we were ready to leave. Just as we were pulling Brandon’s DR’s off the car and putting his stock F1’s/wheels back on (he didn’t want to be seen driving around with mis-matching wheels – sheesh), we heard a rumble pull up beside us.

I turned around about the same time Kelly did (B was still hand tightening the lugs on the left side of his Shelby) and saw the driver’s side of the red SRT-8 sitting there just idling with a menacing exhaust note. Regardless what you might think of how big the car is, this one sounds sick. We had thought it had left since we never saw it run again but regardless, there it was… just idling, less than 10 feet from us.

The window went down and in the light from the overhead Mercury Vapors we could see Bill sitting there smoking a big cigar; it’s blue-gray smoke wafting out of the window and into the cool, crisp night air. I saw his shoulders move around a bit and heard the sounds of transmission linkage being shifted – he had put it into park… and then, he shut the engine down.

It’s amazing how quiet it was just then. Neither of us spoke…

Kelly looked at me with a curious stare and I back at her. About that same time, Brandon stood up and was wiping his hands with an orange shop towel, just looking at Bill and his car. The Inferno Red paint glistened deeply in the light of the overheads; it looked like it was bottomless with a metallic glisten that was mesmerizing. He finally spoke…

“You’re the guy who was racing my boy when he wrecked, aren’t you?”

I didn’t like the sound of his voice, the tone of his voice, and I especially didn’t like the look he was giving me. Have you ever heard someone’s voice and just knew – JUST KNEW – that he was trouble?

I had no doubt that Bill Reynolds would be bringing with him some trouble. In the corner of my eye, I saw Brandon step forward up next to Kelly who was on the opposite side of B’s car from me.

“Yes, he and I were racing. What about it?”

He sat and looked at me for a few seconds… he took another draw on the cigar and I saw the embers glow brightly in the shadows of the car’s interior and then watched him exhale once more into the air above his car…

He held the big stogie out the car’s window, his meaty hand looking puffy and speckled with age spots, the smoke spiraling lazily from the tip… he then flicked some ashes onto the ground before he spoke again…

“Ned told me that you had a pretty quick car… is that true?”

I crossed my arms and walked towards the SRT-8 around B’s car and leaned against the ducktail spoiler as Kelly came over beside me. Brandon just stared – remember that loyalty thing I told you about Brandon early on? I wasn’t worried about backup if I were to need it…

“My car does all right. Again – what about it?”

“Well, Ned tells me – er, told me – that your car is fast. I want to see how fast – care to run me right now?”

“I don’t think there’s much time left here. Besides, we’re packing up to leave so maybe next time.”

“C’mon, Buick boy… just one friendly little race. The way I see it, you are partially to blame for Ned’s wreck – er, his death – and I think you owe me a race. Tell ya what – let’s make it interesting… look at this…”

He reached around and must have got the paper he thrust out the window from his console.

“Look here.” His tone changed again; and not for the better. “Come over here and look – this is the title for this car. I’ll run you for the title to your GN. Heads up, right here on the track. Are you game? You cost Ned his car in my book; maybe his life – I want to race you for yours. You win – which I don’t think you will – you get this SRT-8 right here. And she is NOT stock, I’m telling you this right now. It’s blown and had a lot of work done to it. I know what it’s capable of… so race me. Like they say on that TV show, “Pinks” – ‘You lose the race, you lose your ride… So how about it, Buick Boy – are you man enough to run for pink slips?”

I felt Kelly’s grip on my arm tighten trying to hold me back from reaching into the Dodge and grabbing him by his throat. She also knew that what he had just said would have resulted in me punching his yellow teeth down his throat if he had been standing in front of me or more, had she not been there at the moment.

“Steve… don’t do this… ignore him... he's probably drunk anyhow..”

Brandon on the other hand was quite the opposite.

“Run him Steve - and THEN kick his fat ass... That car and him are both the same – fat hogs. Take the pig to market and take his bigass Dodge too… Hell, if my Shelby wasn’t stock pal, I would run you myself but I saw your car run earlier and I know I wouldn’t have much of a chance right now…”

A few people had gathered around us and were listening/watching intently, waiting to hear my response. None of them most likely knew who this guy was but they knew the makings of a good race and this looked to them to be a good one… and they knew that the guy had punched the right buttons with me.

“Go ahead, Steve… run the guy… the track’s still open for about a half hour yet. You’ve got time to take his car… just go do it.”

The look on Kelly’s face was NOT one of agreement.

But have you ever felt like you absolutely had no choice about something? That if you DIDN’T do it, you knew you would regret it for the rest of your life? That, even if the results were to turn out badly, you would hate yourself more for not having done it even more than if you had done it and and failed?

Well, this was one of those times. Maybe I was thinking that this might be a way to get some sort of monkey off my back about Ned; about the race that ended so badly that Saturday night after Thanksgiving; about Ned’s death… I don’t know; maybe it was just the fact that I suddenly felt an immediate hatred towards this guy for initially no reason other than his attitude and his demeanor but he had crossed the line with what he said in front of my wife, my best friend and these good people around us. He had just gone too far...

All these thoughts were going through my head as more people walked up… cigar smoke still curled upwards into the night… it wasn’t cold yet but the temperatures had dropped… Kelly held a light jacket around her shoulders as I watched her mouth the word “no” toward me out of Bill’s eyesight… I knew the title to the GN was in the glove box…

I looked at Brandon… he just nodded ‘yes’ with anger flashing in his eyes…

Two of the most important people in my life were there; each of them giving me a completely different opinion… and for a moment, I was torn either way…

But then, I knew what I had to do… it was probably the same decision making process used by most men when they are challenged… it came down to a matter of pride… I don’t know, maybe losing to the Shelby earlier may have affected my decision but I don’t think so…

“Tell you what Bill. Here’s what I’ll do…”

The crowd stepped closer… Kelly didn’t move…

But Brandon grinned… he had heard this tone in my voice before…

Bill just stared at me, his fat arm dangling from the window with the cigar still glowing brightly on the end… more smoke curls drifting skyward…

“I’ll run you right here, right now… no ifs, ands, or buts… on the track but only as the last race of the night. And - you’ve got to agree to let them display your time on the clocks and you have got to agree to let the announcer say that this is a grudge match FOR THE TITLES. I am not going to let you try and weasel out of giving me the car…”

I could see the wheels turning in his head as it was his turn for his face to flush red with anger... but, he still didn’t speak… he simply pulled his arm back in and put the stogie in his lips, inhaling deeply again and then took it out and flung it back out the window as he started the car with his other hand…

The Hemi jumped to life immediately within one ‘whir’ of the starter; the drone of the supercharger evident with it’s exhaust rumbling… yet, he still had not answered…

Finally, he spoke…

“What’s the big deal about showing my ET, Buick Boy? It ain’t gonna matter cause you’re gonna lose anyways… and I don’t give a sh!t about what the announcer says. That’s fine by me - I want the people to know that not only did you lose to the Mustang; now, you're gonna lose your car for good. But tell me this - why do you care if my ET is shown?”

“Because I want everyone to know how badly I AM going to beat you… and for everyone to know what a blowhard you really are…and one more thing - when I win your car, I’ll probably end up selling it on eBay. I'm really not interested in keeping anything you've been sitting in...”

His red face grew redder as the crowd roared with laughter. I swear - at that moment, he looked like a puffer-fish.

“See ya at the tree, Buick boy cause we're racin'… and bring your title with you…”

He roared off toward the staging lanes as I heard someone yell, “It’s ON! They’re gonna run for slips! I’ll go tell the announcer!”

Kelly just looked up at me. “You just can’t say, ‘No’, can you?”

“You know I can’t back down on this Kel… you have to know that, don’t you?”

Brandon’s grin told me what he thought…

She smiled. “Steve?"

"What, Kel...?"

"I've got to say this... I would have been pissed off if you hadn't agreed to race him. Now go kick his ass and win that car…”

The warmth of her smile flooded over me. In that instant, the disappointment of the loss to Mira's Shelby was forgotten because I remembered that old saying that racers know is true...

"There is always someone faster...

And there's ALWAYS another race...





Have you ever had one of those ¡¥surreal¡¦ kind of moments? The kind that often feels like a deja-vu experience ¡V like you¡¦ve been there before or after the event is over, you could swear you¡¦ve done this exact same thing sometime earlier?

That is exactly how I felt when I watched the SRT-8 pull away and head back to the track¡¦s staging lanes¡K

*******--------******

Maybe it was a reminder back when I had the GNX and some clown wanted to run me for slips. The only reason I didn¡¦t was that his car (a four-speed ¡¦70 Hemi Roadrunner) was nowhere worth what my GNX was (back in ¡¥88 ¡V not comparable to today¡¦s insane prices you see at the Barrett-Jackson¡¦s d!ck-swinging contest each January at Westworld), even though he did have a decent car mechanically. The paint was rough and needed some rust spots fixed but still, it WAS a HEMI.

Finally, we ended up agreeing to run for a grand. His car was fairly stock and even though it had the badass 426/425hp motor, the fool could not drive (which I wasn¡¦t sure of when we were wagering). So we go out to a deserted road with several people standing by. My GNX was 100% stock down to the tires and I only had ~700 miles on it at the time. But this guy was just as boastful and arrogant as Bill Reynolds (Ned, too) and I wanted to shut his big, flappin¡¦ mouth.

So¡K we¡¦re lined up and the big Plymouth¡¦s Hemi is roaring¡K he¡¦s revving the motor like he¡¦s got Kramer¡¦s Jimmy-legs and to be honest, I began to think I probably didn¡¦t have a chance ¡V but only for the briefest of moments. The guy starting us raised his arms (just like you see Rich do it on ¡§Pinks¡¨) and then dropped them.

I had ¡¥dusted¡¦ the Gatorbacks after having dropped the pressure a few pounds and since I had only boosted to ~3-4psi, I didn¡¦t risk blowing the hides up in smoke. I sidestepped the brake pedal and turned the V6 loose ¡V I was GONE¡K

However, he just sat there and spun his tires (L60 Mickey¡¦s) after having done what must have been a five grand Banzai launch. When he finally got traction, I was long gone and he could not reel me in.

The GNX¡¦s tranny shifted hard, actually getting a slight ¡¥chirp¡¦ on the 1-2 shift but with the boost locked solidly at 15 psi, the car pulled hard. I had owned an intercooled GN that I sold before I bought the X and I thought it was awesome but the X pulled like a freight train even though it was still stock.

I smoked his ignorant ass by 4-5 cars. Of course, the fact that he couldn¡¦t shift either helped too ¡V everyone said he TRIED to power shift but failed at that miserably too.

Now, I knew my GNX could run a solid 13.2 ¡V maybe a tenth or two better at the right track in the right conditions - at the time as long as I got a good launch and didn¡¦t lose traction. I doubt if he ran a 14.0, I beat him that badly.

But ¡V after he sold the car to another guy I knew (probably out of embarrassment from getting his panties pulled down and his ass smacked so badly), the guy he sold it to bolted on headers and slicks, tuned it and ran mid 12¡¦s all day long. So, I think if he could have driven it would have been a good race that night.

He couldn¡¦t ¡V so I won.

We even ran again because he whined about having a bad lane. I switched lanes with him at his wish.

The same thing happened, only worse this time. This time, he missed a shift entirely, most likely from fondling the huge pistol-grip shifter too much. ƒº So¡K I took the money home and he went home with a very red face¡K The ¡§X¡¨ was 2 for 2 against the Hemi Roadrunner.
******------*****

I gave Kel a quick kiss and opened the door to the GN, got in and buckled up and started up the LC2. That memory I just told you about kept replaying in my mind¡K I thought about how dark it was that night, about how it felt when the car launched and took off, and especially how GOOD it felt to beat someone who¡¦s got a mouth that writes checks his ass can¡¦t cash.

I wanted this one just as badly.

Sliding the shifter back into ¡§R¡¨, I backed out of the space being careful to not run over anyone (there was a LOT of people gathered round at that point) and out onto the access road. Pausing to shift, B gave me a wave and Stacy held up her hand that she was holding the camcorder in and waved too. Apparently, she wanted to keep this one on tape. I looked in the driver¡¦s side mirror as I pulled away with shouts of encouragement from many along with a lot of waves and thumbs up¡¦s from everyone. Kelly, Brandon and Stacy were leading the throng back to the stands¡K

In a minute or two I was at the entrance to the pre-staging lanes. There were only a few bikes to run and the red Dodge was already up in lane 1 with a number of people around his car. The hood was up and I noticed that the Viper I had beaten earlier was parked nearby as was the Shelby that had beat me earlier. It was then I saw Mira and Nate standing near Bill, all of them watching Bill tinkering with something under the hood of the Charger. As I pulled up, electing to keep a little space between us, I pulled into lane 4. I could hear the announcer¡¦s voice¡K

¡§Race fans ¡V I¡¦ve JUST been handed this. It seems that after we finish with the bikes tonight ¡V did you SEE that ¡¥Busa¡¦ just run a nice 8 second ET? ¡V we¡¦re gonna have a good ol¡¦ fashioned GRUDGE MATCH!!! And, get this ¡V these two guys are going to be running for PINK SLIPS! How is THAT for racing here at Tri-County! And, who are the two who are going to lay it ALL on the line? I¡¦ll tell you more after we see these next two bikes run¡K in the near lane is¡K¡¨

I saw several people who were already exiting the stands, some with bags of popcorn, others with cameras or even holding the hands of their small children, all stop in their tracks and start talking. Nearly all of them quickly turned around and seemed to be nearly running to get back to their seats. You would have thought it was opening day! And then, I noticed to my right that a lot of people who were busy loading their cars or buttoning them up to get them back into street condition were closing hoods or shutting doors and walking back to the track. In no time, I knew the stands had to be back to nearly the size of the crowd that was there when we first arrived.

By now, Kel, B, and Stacy were at my car.

¡§Any changes, Steve?¡¨ asked B¡K

I reached down and pulled the hood release lever.

¡§As a matter of fact Brandon, I think I¡¦m going to add about just a little more boost. I might just need it¡K¡¨

Getting out of the car and grabbing the heavy gloves and small crescent wrench from the floor behind my seat, I went to the front of the car where Brandon had already raised the hood. I knew I had plenty of fuel pressure for the added boost. The Walbro pump had never let me down and the Autometer gauge in the A-pillar pod I knew was dead on having tested it against a mechanical gauge at the fuel rail before.

Reaching into the engine bay, I could feel the warmth from the motor. Looking down at the big intercooler, I always appreciated how big the piping was to and from it. I guess it¡¦s just a guy thing ¡V we can easily appreciate all things mechanical, can¡¦t we?

I popped off the alligator clip, loosed the jam nut on the adjustable boost rod and rotated it a half turn. I then tightened the jam nut back up against the stop, pulled hard on the rod to get it back into the actuator arm (that dang spring is TOUGH at that kind of boost level) and then replaced the clip. This run should net out at least 25psi, maybe even 26 or so. I could only hope the head gaskets would take it.

I closed the big black hood. It slammed with a solid, Made-in-America-when-steel-was-steel sound. The crowd around me was pressed tight up against the front of the car, watching me make the adjustment and when the hood shut, I could hear Brandon explaining to some newly acquired Turbo Buick fans what I had just done.

One guy even asked if I had ¡§NAWS¡¨. I happened to glance at B when I heard it and you would have thought the guy asked him if I was running a Toyota motor in the Buick! I can¡¦t actually write down his reply but suffice it to say he made clear that laughing gas was for pussies. In the background, I could hear that pair after pair of powerful two wheelers ripping up the tarmac just inside the entry-way.

It wouldn¡¦t be long now¡K

¡§Ok folks¡K here are the details on this upcoming grudge race. It will be none other than Bill Reynolds in one lane driving that ¡¦06 Dodge Charger SRT-8¡V I don¡¦t know which lane he¡¦ll be in ¡V and Steve Morton in his wicked-fast 1987 Buick Grand National. We¡¦ve only got another pair or two of bikes to finish up so get to your seat NOW! Because ¡V this race is not just about who is faster ¡V the winner is going to get to keep the loser¡¦s car!!! Can you believe it, race fans? This is just like that popular TV show ¡V ¡¥Lose the race; lose your ride¡¦! How many of YOU would be willing to put your car up just to prove yours is faster? Not ME! So hang onto your hats people ¡V it¡¦s just minutes away! As soon as the last bike runs, we¡¦re gonna give the track another shot of traction spray and we¡¦ll let ¡¥em RIP!¡¨

By this time, I was back in the car. The crowd around Bill¡¦s Charger as well as the throng around mine had already headed for the stands. Only B and Kel were still at the window.

¡§Good luck, hon¡K I know you¡¦ll get him¡K¡¨ Kelly¡¦s smile gave me a shot of confidence that even a dyno sheet showing 700rwhp couldn¡¦t do. Brandon just gave me a thumbs up and one bit of advice¡K

¡§Kick his ass but GOOD, ok?¡¨ With that, they both headed to the stands¡K
I rolled up the windows and the noise outside quieted¡K a track official was now coming back out to the pre-stage lanes and began motioning for us to move into the track area¡K

I started the car and the LC2 jumped to life. The sound of the open exhaust roared mightily and jumped down a note as I pulled the tranny into ¡§D¡¨.

Bill got ahead of me and decided to get over in the right lane. It didn¡¦t matter to me ¡V both lanes were good and I could see the flat black finish of the VHT on the track ahead as I pulled into the water box¡K. I could hear the announcer¡K

¡§Race fans ¡V don¡¦t go anywhere because THIS is IT! This is the REAL DEAL! After this race, we¡¦re going to have the contestants pull back onto the track and we¡¦re going to have them trade titles right here in front of God and everybody! You are going to witness somebody ¡V will it be Steve or Bill? ¡V lose his car right here. This isn¡¦t TV. This isn¡¦t one of those phony bench racing stories. No-sirree-Bob¡K this is an honest-to-god race for all the marbles¡K it¡¦s a big Hemi against a V6 with a HUGE turbo¡K David versus Goliath, here tonight at Tri-County! So¡K let¡¦s watch¡K¡¨

We did our burnouts but to be honest, I had already zoned out¡K I couldn¡¦t tell you what Bill did, whether it was a big smoky one or not¡K I just knew I warmed the Nitto¡¦s but GOOD and then pulled on ahead with a brief screech as the tires bit after releasing the line-lock¡K the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust hung heavily in the air¡K

I had already reset the Scanmaster¡K I had done all the pre-launch items I needed to do¡K

I rolled into the beams, not even paying attention to the other bulbs that much other than with my peripheral vision¡K I was on auto-pilot¡K

I watched both sets of ¡§Pre-Stage¡¨ bulbs light¡K I could hear the exhaust of the big Hemi to my right¡K

I allowed the GN to roll gently on in to trip the ¡§Staged¡¨ bulb. Immediately, I locked the transbrake, put the shifter in low, and began to roll into the throttle¡K this launch was going to be a full-boogie one, at a boost I had yet to launch this car at¡K

Bill had rolled into the other beam and now we were both staged. When I saw his ¡§Staged¡¨ lamp come on, I rolled more aggressively into the throttle¡K

3psi¡K

5psi¡K

9psi¡K

11psi¡K the engine was running on up against the torque converter¡K the first amber was lit¡K

13psi¡K I had NEVER launched at this high of a boost. I hoped to God the tires would take it¡K that 16 psi in the rears would bite¡K

15PSI as I watched the second amber come on¡K and then go off¡K

Time had slowed to a crawl¡K sounds were not even registering, they seemed so low¡K

Then, BLINK! The third amber was ON!

I released the transbrake immediately ¡V at almost 16psi of boost ¡V and the car pulled the front wheels skyward!

I looked straight ahead and tried to hold on¡K the tires held miraculously¡K the roar of the open exhaust dump tube was not even really noticeable¡K I simply wanted to get to the end of the track FIRST¡K

In a flash, the front end set back down but it wasn¡¦t hard ¡V the car was pulling like a 6 locomotive freight train¡K I didn¡¦t look right, I only watched the gauges¡K the 1-2 shift felt like it would break my neck¡K my head snapped hard as second gear came on and the pull was even harder¡K

If the car held together, I had no doubt this would be a record run for it¡K I just hoped I could keep it¡K

I sensed that the SRT-8 was right at my side because the whine of it¡¦s supercharger pierced the roar of the GN¡¦s V6¡K but I knew he wasn¡¦t ahead of me and that was all that mattered¡K

On down the track we went, hundreds of horsepower trying to tear the drivetrain of each car out from under it¡K incredible torque numbers were being applied and multiplied¡K fences and faces and poles and stripes and time boxes all flew by in blurs¡K only the finish line loomed ahead¡K

The 2-3 shift was just as hard¡K I did not look right¡K I only wanted to win¡K

In a flash, I was upon the finish. Only then did I look right¡K and I saw¡K


¡K.


¡K.


¡K.


¡K.

¡K

That the Charger was at least a half car behind.

Immediately, I was on the brakes hard. Slowing to turn I noticed that Bill held back just a bit but I knew he had to be nearly matting the big Brembos to get the big Mopar slowed¡K

I couldn¡¦t hear the roar of the crowd but Kel and B both told me later that it was clear who was the favorite¡K seemed like everyone was rooting for the little V6 they said later¡K well, other than some guy driving a Viper and some gal with a Shelby¡K Even some guy in a Camaro was cheering wildly they said¡K

Pulling up to the shed to get the slip, the track official was out the door waving a big thumbs up to me¡K he handed me my slip and to be honest, I don¡¦t remember what he was saying but I knew the air felt and smelled good¡K he was slapping my arm and yelling something about ¡§Way to GO!¡¨ but I was engrossed in the numbers on the paper I now held in my hand¡K

¡§Left lane¡K ET¡K 10.52¡¨
¡§Right Lane¡K ET¡K 10.99¡¨

I now owned a Mopar.

The first one in my life¡K and at that point, I felt a huge wave of emotion flood over me¡K relief¡K vindication¡K wishing I had launched that hard against the Shelby¡K happiness¡K wonder about what was next¡K

I thanked the official for his support and watched the lights of Bill¡¦s Charger come up behind me¡K I didn¡¦t care what might come next¡K

I just knew that at least in THIS race¡K

David solidly kicked Goliath¡¦s ass¡K

It felt good to be King¡K if only for a moment. It did.

It just... felt... good¡K








As I pulled away from the Timer shed with the slip in hand, I looked up in my rear view mirror and saw that the track official was still waving and grinning at me, ignoring the fact that Bill was sitting there beside him waiting to get his copy of the same time slip.

The coolness of the night air rustled about the interior of the car. It smelled clean and pure… no smells other than that of early spring, of night, and of victory filled my senses. I didn’t notice the acrid smell of burning rubber, of burnt race gas, or of VHT… the air just felt and smelled new as the GN growled its way back to the other end of the complex…

The lights of the SRT-8 were glowing brightly behind me and I had to wonder about how Bill felt, knowing that he was going to have to turn over his car that probably cost him at least $40k to buy and who knows how much to mod… After all, the SRT-8 is a solid ultra-low 13 second car with some even being reported to be very high 12-second screamers – which is awesome for a 4300 lb car. To have gotten that monster down in the high 10’s had to come at a price. In a few minutes, I would know what exactly he had done.

Honestly, I half expected him to bolt from the track, knowing the shady reputation that the Reynolds family had when it came to racing and cars. But, he just slowly followed me back up the return road to the pre-staging area where a huge crowd was gathered waving and cheering. I could hear the noise of the throng as I approached, even over the noise of the open exhaust of my GN. And right in front were Kelly, Brandon and Stacy – all of them with grins plastered on their faces.

Just as I neared the crowd, a white-shirted track official waved his flashlight at me and motioned for the cars to follow him on through the crowd and back onto the track apron. I stopped for just a moment to let Kelly run over – her kiss and smile said it all. The shadows from the massive pole-mounted track lights were long and contrasting with the brilliant paint jobs of the numerous cars nearby…

“Way to go, honey! I’m proud of you!”

Hearing those words from the woman I love meant more than even winning the race. She just seems to have a knack for saying the things that always touch me deeply and this was no exception. B stood behind her and just kept grinning, giving me a huge thumbs up with Stacy hanging onto his arm and smiling. I pulled on through the horde of people who in turn fell in behind me and began following the GN out into the track.

Yes – it DOES feel good to be king…

I had kept the window down and the noise was non-stop – people were hooting and hollering congratulations like I had just won the lottery. Bill still followed me, although he was staying about 10-15 feet back. I noticed that a few members of the crowd were shaking their fists at him and even a couple were giving him the finger - which I thought was totally uncalled for. But, to Bill’s credit, he just followed me on through the group and in a split second, we were back on the track.

The crowd in the stands was incredible! They were on their feet and cheering, many of them waving and pointing. An announcer was now standing by the tree, watching as some techie was trying to get his big microphone with the “Tri-County” banner plugged into an outlet. The squeal of P/A system feedback didn’t even seem to faze a person – they were all celebrating with me.

It was then I saw the Shelby and the Viper sitting there as well. And – one other car I hadn’t seen earlier but that was parked off to the side a little more.

It was an older Mopar… It also had enormous meats out back – the deep dish of the rear wheels looked that the car had at least twelve inch wide tires, if not bigger. I saw that it also had a huge hood scoop and a squared-off look to the front and the back. The windows looked to be almost plastic-like (maybe Lexan?) because they didn’t have the shiny reflective look that regular glass does in the brilliant track lighting.

The car’s paint was solid black. Actually, it was almost a flat black because the paint really didn’t have any shine at all. The wheels were also black as were the deeply tinted windows. There wasn’t any badging anywhere and with all the excitement of the crowd (and trying to make sure I didn’t run over anyone!), I didn’t really get a good look at it but the lines of the car looked pretty familiar… it was then that what the car was ‘clicked’.

It was a Plymouth Road Runner, perhaps a ’69 or a ’70. Noticing the low hanging header pipes and what appeared to be a high-volume oil pan that I could see was orange in color, I felt pretty sure it had to be a Hemi. I noted that the hood was held down by four hood pins; another indication that this might just be a Hemi car, although I had seen a few other serious mighty-Mopars with similar hood retaining systems, some of them with the nasty 440-six pack set-up… either way, the R/R was a serious player from what I could tell on the surface…

Interesting… but for now, I didn’t have time to ogle the black monster sitting off to the side.

It was time to collect.

I pulled on up to where several of the white-shirted officials were standing and as I shut down the car, I watched them motion Bill to my right and give him the sign to shut his down too. As I opened the door, the crowd gave a thunderous roar and the announcer up in the booth could barely be heard over them. Kelly and the gang were now at my side and track security tried to move the crowd back a bit so that a different track official with the microphone could get near. It was then I saw a track official walking with Bill in my direction and they quickly rounded the rear fender of the GN.

Payday…

“Folks, the race you just witnessed was better than any episode you’ll ever hope to watch on the Speed Channel! Steve Morton’s V6 Powered Buick Grand National just beat Bill Reynolds’ super-bad SRT-8 Charger in a winner takes all, ‘run what ya brung’, grudge match here at Tri-County! Bill! Do you have the title to the Dodge? I’ve got a notary right here to witness your signing off of the car… do you have any words for us before you do?”

The crowd hushed almost immediately. A lady wearing a jacket waited at the announcer’s side, holding a notary seal in her hand. Even SHE was grinning… You could sense that everyone was leaning forward, straining to hear what Bill was about to say. Would he be angry? Would he be cocky and mouthy? We waited…

The announcer looked at Bill, just as everyone else was doing… what would he say?

He didn’t speak; he had the title to the car in his hand and laid it on the roof of the GN, signed it and handed it to the lady with the seal. She in turn squeezed her Notary stamp in place, signed it off, and handed it to me. It was official now – the SRT-8 was mine.

But Bill’s face was actually impassive, giving away no emotion at all…

“All I’ve got to say tonight is that that Buick there is by far one of the quickest cars I’ve ever seen or ran against. I know that Mira raced him earlier tonight in her Shelby and beat him – but I think he turned up the wick a bit against me. My Charger is far from stock – it’s got a new and very healthy Novi huffer on it with all the other go-fast goodies, some transmission work, a Dana rear, and the car has been lightened a bit – especially in the interior - as well as having been tuned by one of the best modern Hemi tuners this side of the Mississippi. But running that 10.99 was actually a little disappointing because I know the car has a 10.60 in it at least. But – it didn’t tonight… and I guess that is all that matters. I ran my mouth – and I lost my car. Oh well…”

“Bill – how does it feel to sign this car over? Are you gonna miss it?” The announcer knew how to work the crowd, how to ask just the right questions… everyone was hanging on, waiting – maybe hoping – to hear Bill say how sad he was, how mad he was, or maybe even start a shouting match?

“No. It’s a great car and it’s wicked fast. But it’s just a car. And besides, I’ve got another proposal for Steve here. After all, I think I deserve a chance to win my Charger back, don’t I?”

Amazingly, no one in the crowd seemed to agree…

At this point, the crowd was pressing in on top of us. People were pouring out of the stands and down onto the track, trying to get closer to get a glimpse of what might be said and of whom might be saying it… Kelly, B and Stacy were right there with me, waiting to see what was coming next…

“Bill, I’ll get right back to you on that. But first, I want to ask Steve how it feels to win a car like this… Steve? Tell us – what’s going through your mind right now?” He thrust the microphone in front of me, waiting for a response.

“Honestly, how would it feel for anyone to do this?” I asked… “I mean, after all – I just ran a hard race against a very, very fast car and I won. It ALWAYS feels good to win, doesn’t it?”

I grinned as the crowd roared its approval. It DOES feel good to win – I wasn’t going to lie or brag. I had won, fair and square...

The announcer pressed back…

“C’mon, Steve! What are you going to do with the car you just won? I know that you’re not exactly the consummate Mopar fan but man, that IS a nice car! So – what are you gonna do with it?”

I paused for a moment; the crowd again seemed suspended and waiting for an answer. I could hear a baby crying out in the crowd somewhere… in the distance, a whistle from a passing freight train sounded, the drone of the locomotive reassuring in the night… the noise of a few cars starting up out in the parking lots and leaving was filtering out and onto the track - but there were very few cars doing that…

“I guess I’m going to just keep it and enjoy it for a while. But I will say this – I AM interested in hearing what Bill’s proposal is regarding an opportunity for him to win the car back…”

It was like watching the crowd at a Wimbledon tennis match… everyone now turned their gaze to Bill as the announcer shoved the burly microphone back into his face… I felt Kelly shiver in the damp air, knowing she was just like every other woman on the face of the earth when it gets dark – she was cold…

“Ok, Bill – what’s your idea? You know that Steve here doesn’t have to agree to anything – he won the car fair and square and he can keep it and walk away. What is your proposal and why do you think he might be interested in even giving you a second chance?”

The silence of the crowd was deafening… everyone waited…

Bill had an odd, Alfred Hitchcock sort of grin on his face… maybe Kel wasn’t shivering from the cold after all…. His look was actually kind of creepy…

“Steve? Are you a gambling man?” His stare was now icy cold and all of his ‘gracious loser’ aplomb had disappeared. I suddenly had the odd feeling that perhaps his losing the SRT-8 to me wasn’t necessarily what it appeared on the surface…

“Well, Bill… it depends…”

“On what?” His face was now stone cold…

“It depends upon what I have a chance to win if I gamble. I’ve already gambled tonight – and I won your car….”

The crowd roared… both with applause and with laughter. But – it didn’t seem that Bill even heard it… he stepped a bit closer to me, the announcer following him with the microphone, its cord dragging and getting snagged on someone’s feet as he pressed to capture every word of the new challenge that was about to be laid down…

“I’ll tell you what, Steve… here’s my proposal…”

Silence again reigned supreme… even the baby had stopped crying and the train had by now passed on by…. I just stared back as Kelly pulled in closer to my side and I felt Brandon and Stacy step in next to her…

“Here’s what I suggest… let’s come back here next month. April 1st is another Saturday night. If the Track Owners will agree, let’s have another race – but this time, it will be three races… I know you have a couple of cars PLUS the SRT-8 I just signed off to you – how would you like to gamble on the opportunity to win three more?”

The crowd gasped and even the announcer’s eyes bulged…. I just folded my arms.

“What cars are you offering up this time, Bill? I’ve already won yours – who’s are you gonna race with this time?”

He just grinned…. But his eyes weren’t smiling at all…

“The first race will be your GN against Mira’s Shelby. You win – you get the Shelby too. You can keep the Mustang and the SRT-8 and go home – that is, IF you win. But – if SHE wins, you give me the SRT back PLUS your GN… interested?”

“Maybe… what else?”

The second race – IF you win the first – will be your GN against the Viper over there…”

“I’ve already beaten the Viper, Bill. Why should I run it again?”

“Look closer, Steve. That is not the Viper you raced tonight…”

I glanced over at the low-slung coupe and it was then I noticed that while the color was very close to that of the new one I had beaten earlier, the car had different tires/wheels on it, a different hood, and huge side exhaust pipes. A “Venom 800” sticker was on the front fender… I had heard about this car; an 800hp Hennessey-tweaked twin-turbo asp that had a reputation about as nasty as John Hennessey’s. Supposedly, it was a low 10 second street car although no one had actually got one to run quite that fast from what I had read or heard… Bill continued…

“IF you beat this Viper – and I don’t think you will – you can have it, too. That would give you the SRT-8, the GT500, and the Viper. However – IF the Viper beats you, I get the SRT-8 back AND your car too. But – if you DO beat the Venom, you have to agree to run my last car…. You might have already seen it – it’s parked over there beside the Summit Racing sign…”

The crowd didn’t know whether to keep listening or to look away…

“IF you beat THAT car – and you can bring any car you own to the race against it you want – you can keep all of them. BUT – if you LOSE to the Road Runner, I get my SRT-8 back, Mira’s Shelby back, the Viper back, AND your GN along with the Stage motor I know you’ve got sitting in your garage.”

The entire crowd swiveled to look at the black car I had seen earlier. The Road Runner looked as if it actually had no soul and just as everyone looked its way, the driver fired its engine…

The sound coming from the open exhaust was deafening, almost sounding like that of the Super Stockers we’ve all seen run at the NHRA events; events like the Mac Tools U.S. Nationals in Indy. There was no doubt that the car had a Hemi in it… it sat and rumbled and spat and hissed, the exhaust note sounded like barely subdued dynamite explosions as each enormous piston fired… I had seen cars just like this one run very low 9’s and even a few 8 second slips… this was a purpose built race car if there ever was one and it was worth a lot of money… But – I was also pretty sure that my GN did not have a chance against it as it was tuned right now. And with April first being just a couple of weeks away, I didn’t have time to even TRY and get the Stage Motor back in it along with the necessary mods to even be compatible…

The driver shut it off and the night fell silent once more as the crowd turned to look at me to see how I would respond.

“So, Steve… what do you say to Bill’s challenge?”

Bill reached over and pulled the microphone towards his face…

“Yeah, Buick Boy… feeling lucky? I’m offering you a chance to do what no one has ever done – win three cars in one night… what do you say? Are you feeling like a little friendly wager?”

Kelly squeezed my arm. B hissed in my ear – “Go ahead Steve – you can beat him… take every one of his fancy rides…”

My mind raced. First, I would have to beat the Shelby that had already beaten me once. Then, I would have to beat a Viper that had more horsepower than the one I beat earlier – and I didn’t really beat it by all that much. The Venom was a race prepped bad-boy that I knew I would have my hands full against.

But the Hemi Road Runner? It was an unknown quantity. I needed more information…

“Let me look at the Plymouth and I’ll decide. You’ve got to let me see what I’m racing…”

“Sure… sure, go ahead. Go take a look at it – on the track, all you’ll see is its ass-end, so get a good look now…”

I walked on over to the Hemi car and noticed that for some odd reason, the air felt even colder as I neared it. I was sure it had to be my imagination but it was so surreal… the driver had opened the door and stepped out, his face nearly indistinguishable due to his having the hooded sweatshirt and a ball cap down and around his face, almost as if he purposely didn’t want anyone to see who he was. He stepped back and away from the car as I got near it.

Two people appeared at the hood, popped the hold-down pins and lifted the hood up and onto the roof of the car. Enormously wide black valve covers overwhelmed the engine bay with what had to be at least 10mm if not bigger spark plug wires disappearing into the cavernous plug holes in the center of them.

[enigmadsm]

No doubt – this was a Hemi Road Runner. Two huge four-barrel carbs sat atop the wide manifold… fuel lines the size of my thumb appeared to feed the thirsty monster… headers with piping that had to be at least 2 inches in diameter if not bigger… walking on around the car, I noted no rear seat, no heater, no radio, fiberglass front fenders to match the hood… battery in the trunk… tubbed… If this wasn’t a factory original Hemi R/R, it was a good clone… plus, it had the performance mods to boot… This was at least a low 10 second car IF it ran as strong as it looked… No Fast and Furious crap about this car, no bogus blower out the hood – just a very, very serious killing machine…

“So? What do you think, Steve? Are you gonna take up Bill’s challenge?” The crowd hung on every word of the announcer… people leaned in again…

I thought for a moment and timed seemed to stand still for a moment… a lot of thoughts raced through my head… I tried to weigh the odds and to be honest, I didn’t like what I was figuring… but then – a light went on…

“I’ll tell you what, Bill. I’ll accept your challenge on a couple of conditions…”

His grin was gone.

“What’s that?”

“You’re bringing three different cars. I’m going to bring two, maybe three as well. If I lose any race, you can keep the car I run in that race… I get to choose which car I’m going to run and to be honest, I might race the same car each race – I just haven’t decided… but I get to make that decision. Also – none of this “I win; I HAVE to race another race. If I win, it will be MY choice if I race the next car, got it?”

He nodded affirmatively…

“You can look at any of them prior to the race and if you want to back out – which I think you will – I’ll let you. But if you back out, I’m keeping the car I won tonight and everyone will hear about it… so what do YOU say, Bill? Feeling lucky?”

Bill grinned again…

“Ok… I’ve got one more condition for YOU, Steve. You can bring any car or cars you want – BUT – they have to be Buicks and they have to have Buick motors in them. I don’t think you will agree to this but hey, that’s the only thing I ask if you’re going to bring more than the GN… every car that you bring must be a Buick. So - the ball’s in your court now… what do YOU say?”

The crowd swung back towards me, the announcer’s microphone was back in my face. I felt Brandon bumping me from behind; he obviously knew what I was going to say next…

“Bill – bringing a Buick or two is precisely what I was planning to do. You see - I never take a knife to a gunfight…”

I saw his face lose a little of its color with the last remark… I continued…

“So - we’ll see you in two weeks… make sure you’re ready… ok?”

It was MY turn to grin with a sinister look in MY eyes. And it was Bill’s turn to look like maybe – just maybe - HE might have just been led someplace he would wish later he hadn’t gone…







Folks, you’ve heard it HERE! April 1st – there will be the grudge match to END all grudge matches!”

The crowd ROARED its approval…

“I’ve just got word from one of the owners up in the booth that they are going to promote the races you can see here at Tri-County Raceway Park - former known as Tri-County Drag Strip for all of us old guys – and there will definitely be a crowd on hand that night. We’ve just heard the challenges laid down – Bill Reynolds is going to try and not only win back the blown Dodge Charger SRT-8 he lost tonight to Steve Morton, a hometown boy, but he has challenged Steve and his wicked ’87 Grand National to a real slugfest. Steve is going to be racing the races of his life but he also stands to pick up some serious cars IF – and that is a BIG if, folks – IF he can beat the sick Shelby GT-500 that handed him a disappointing loss tonight, then against a truly monster of a Viper – a Venom 800, and IF he wins those two races, he is going to face none other than the King Kong of Hemi cars, the ’69 Road Runner that is parked over there beside the big Summit racing sign.

That Plymouth is said to be a 9 second capable car from what I’ve been hearing here this evening but it has yet to run a 9. Steve is going to have his hands FULL against that Mopar IF he can make it that far. But here’s what Steve stands to lose – he could lose not only that beautiful GN we’ve all come to know around here as a real giant killer, but a built Stage 2 motor that he has at home AND the SRT-8 Dodge Charger he won tonight.

Folks, this is war – RACE WARS to be exact… and its going down HERE!”

People were slowly but reluctantly beginning to trickle out of the track exits; the sounds/smells of a few vehicles starting up filled the air and the loudest ones threatened to drown out the announcer as he kept plugging the race for anyone who was listening. Most people were just hanging around, enjoying the night and/or retelling what THEY saw or what were doing when they watched the GN beat the SRT-8. The glow of red tail lights began to snake out of the parking area and onto the big exit boulevard…

“So be here at TCRP on Saturday night, April 1 for RACE WARS – this isn’t going to be your usual drag racing folks! Hold on; wait just a minute people – I’ve got another message coming in…”

The announcer was fumbling with his earpiece, apparently being the recipient of another bit of info from the booth up top of the stands…

“Wow! You’re not going to believe this one, TCPR fans! Walt – one of the owners who is also up in the booth - just informed me that Speed Channel has expressed interest in this event already! Seems that one of the station’s reps was here tonight considering TCRP for a possible “Pinks Challenge” event, saw the carnage already meted out by our racers and he says that Speed Channel DEFINITELY wants a piece of the action! He just informed Walt that Speed is willing to pony up – now get THIS! – a TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS cash purse PLUS a few incidental prizes possibly including some tires, wheels, exhaust work, or maybe some other high-quality race parts to the winner! Wow! How great is that?! PLUS, he ALSO said that he definitely wants exclusive, live broadcast rights of the event that night!

HOLY COW, Race fans! We just might be on TV! Wait a minute - I - hold on, there’s more coming in…”

Everyone who was even THINKING about leaving stopped dead in their tracks with the latest news…

“Bill? Steve? We’ve got a condition on this offering from Speed. C’mon over here – I need to talk to you both… Stand by, everyone – this is going to get even more interesting…”

People were already pushing back towards the area where we all were standing. I was holding the title to the Charger in my hand and had just asked Stacy to drive it home for me when the announcer started in. I just then realized that, not only was it getting really chilly and that a breeze had picked up, but that I was starved! None of us had eaten much other than a nibble of some of the concession foods when we first got there. Next stop before going home? The Red Barn! One of our favorite cruise-in spots of the summer; a place you could ALWAYS find heavy hitter street machines or the latest ricer creations and everything in between… For some reason – most likely my empty stomach! – at the moment, I was MORE interested in a Big Barney double cheeseburger, some onion rings and a Coke than what the announcer was saying… but he soon got my interest back – in a BIG way…

Bill and I walked on over to the announcer… he leaned in and began to explain what was up….

“Bill – Steve, the Speed Channel rep up in the booth is none other than Kail Christensen, Rich Christensen’s brother, and is one of the co-host of sorts on ‘Pinks’. Kail doesn’t want his name put out that he’s here because he doesn’t want to be flooded with a bunch of local yokels asking to be on TV but it is DEFINITELY him. And, Kail confirmed that Pinks wants to cover this race like none they’ve done before… But… there’s always a ‘but’ isn’t there?”

Bill and I just listened as people tried to push in to hear what he was saying. He had the microphone covered so it wasn’t going out on the P/A…

“They would like a little more time to advertise this event… Kail said that IF you guys will agree to run on the first Saturday of May – I think that is May 6 - instead of the first of April, they will up the prize money to TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS plus OTHER assorted goodies that they are sure they can get sponsors such as Summit, Jegs, TireRack, and more to kick in for advertising fees! What do you say? Are you IN??? He said the contingency prizes could be worth as much as another ten grand if not more. This could be HUGE, guys. What do you say?”

I could see Kelly, B and Stacy looking at me, wondering what was up… I just gave her a wink and she smiled back in an instant - and immediately, that gorgeous smile of hers warmed me up once more… I knew she was ok with whatever was going to happen – after all, she was ALL for racing at the track.

I leaned in toward the announcer…

“I can’t speak for Bill but I have no problem with either date. I’ll be ready on April first but HE might need a few more weeks… after all – he already lost one car.”

I couldn’t resist a chance to twist the knife a bit…

Bill turned and glared at me then just grinned that Jack Nicholson grin…

“I’m ok either date as well. It’s up to you guys here at the track. YOU choose…”

“Ok… we’re going with May first then. I’ll announce it to the crowd…”

“Ok, race fans – here’s the deal. Pinks is IN!”

The crowd roared again.

“But – there is a contingency – they want to back up the race date to May 1 for a couple of reasons, the main one being that they want time to advertise this event plus time to schmooze with their sponsors and other possible new ones in order to get some more prizes for the winner of this monstrous event. So, Bill and Steve have agreed to wait and run on the first Saturday night in May! That is only about 6 weeks away folks! But get this – Speed Channel has also upped the prize money to a STAGGERING TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to the winner!”

The roar from the crowd was even bigger than before!

Talk about ‘Lose your race, lose your ride’! This is, “Win the race, win it ALL! There will be NO consolation prizes for the loser; no tires, no wheels, no race fuel, not even an air filter. It will be winner take ALL! So mark your calendars, put in for vacation if you have to work that Saturday night because the racing THAT evening is the biggest thing to hit TCRP since, well, since it’s been built! Come early, stay all day – we’ll have the track open at noon for people to get in the gates and we’ll have other racing events to be announced later that afternoon. The grudge match between Bill and Steve will begin at 7pm SHARP. It will not be a best of 5 racing format like you see on ‘Pinks’ – it will simply be as many as three races. And Steve has to win the first one for the racing to continue. If he wins that one, he has to win the second race, which will be run at 8pm, to continue. And if he wins the second one, then the final race will be run at 9PM and that will be for it all…

Race fans – I’m telling you this; you do NOT want to miss this event! Be here!!!! Saturday, May 6, the gates open at noon, Speed Channel will be here broadcasting live as well as taping it for replay later. See you then!”

With that, the announcer pulled his finger across his throat and the P/A went silent with background music being played. The crowd was abuzz like never before with many people hovering around the cars.

It took us almost a half hour to finally exit the track. People kept coming up to look at the GN, to ask questions, or to just say how excited they were about what had happened and about what was coming in May. The gang and I tried to talk to everyone but it was almost impossible. We were so busy that we didn’t even notice that Bill had taken his stuff from the Charger and disappeared. And, none of us even heard the cars start up or leave – we were just swarmed with people….

Kel, Stacy, and B walked over to the Charger and opened the doors. The interior was nearly stock from what I could see other than the front seats were race seats, not the plush SRT-8 buckets. However, the rear seat was still in place so I didn’t know exactly how much ‘lightening’ Bill had done to the car.

Stacy had the key so she started up the beast after everyone was in and backed up to follow me out of the track. We slowly motored on out the entrance part and then out into the parking area where Stacy pulled up and let Kel and Brandon off to get their cars. I waited to make sure everyone got their car started and then we headed on out and onto the highway, the traffic fairly light but steady.

A million thoughts were swirling through my head at that point… first of all – I had just won a car that was worth a LOT of money and had won it in less than 11 seconds. That in itself was amazing – I had never raced for titles before and I must say that doing so, while incredibly exciting, was also very intimidating. And that thought led me to another one…

I had just accepted a challenge to race not only ONE fast car but THREE fast cars! That meant that not only did I stand to lose my GN – and the first race was against a car that had already spanked my Buick soundly – but the SRT-8 I had just won PLUS the Stage Motor in the garage. Doubt began to creep into my brain… sort of like fear does when you are in uncharted waters. The excitement of the night was ebbing away and even the prospect of winning more money than I make for several months’ work didn’t ease my concerns.

I could LOSE the GN and the Stage motor… Honestly, I didn’t really care if I won or lost the SRT-8; I just wanted to shut Bill’s big pie-hole.

But now… I COULD lose my GN. I bought that car several years ago and had spent a LOT of time and money getting it where it was. I would never sell the car; I could have done that many, many times. So why in the world did I just sign on to possibly GIVE it away?

Sweat crept upon my brow… I wasn’t hungry anymore… I began to wonder where my sanity was, why didn’t somebody stop me???

I COULD LOSE THE GN! I must be crazy!

I was following Kelly in her GTO and Brandon and Stacy were behind me. All of these emotions were racing through my head… fear, happiness, worry, doubt, pride… all of them were wracking me with wonder whether I was certifiably insane…

At this point, we were almost in Barstow; it’s the point where the road widens from four lanes to six (with a turning lane in the center). Brandon and Stacy pulled up beside Kel and me with B in the lead so at this point we were running two columns wide. I happened to look up in my rear view mirror and saw a set of headlights approaching from the rear at a fairly rapid pace and as it got closer, the driver began flashing his brights to try and get someone’s attention…

As we began to approach the first major intersection which is just before you enter the City limits, the car pulled on over behind Stacy and then on over into the far right lane which would put the car apposite Brandon. I watched it pull on over and noticed it was a Yellow Terminator Cobra; most likely an ’04 since it appeared to be the deeper yellow than that of the ’03 Cobras. The ‘04’s yellow is “Screaming Yellow” which is aptly named – it is a BEAUTIFUL color; the ’03 yellow is called Zinc yellow and it is a little paler than the ’04 color. The car that was sidling up next to Brandon had to be an ’04.

I watched with interest as the Terminator pulled up alongside B’s Shelby. I caught Kelly’s glance and motioned for her to let me pull ahead of her and next to Brandon – I just had a feeling that a pretty good street race was about to go down!

In seconds, I knew my hunch was correct.

Stopping for the light, I noticed that B had rolled down his passenger side window and that he was talking with the Cobra guy. (I did find out later that it was indeed an ’04 Cobra – and, it wasn’t quite stock… but more on that later….)

In seconds, B glanced my way and gave me a thumbs up – I knew he was anxious to get some more action since he didn’t get as many passes in as he would like. With all the hoopla on several of the Car Forums on the Web, there seemed to be a lot of competition between the new Shelby guys and the Termie owners – here we were about to see what was what in the real world; out on the streets, in the middle of the night, Cobra vs Shelby GT500.

I rolled down my windows just so I could hear what was about to play out… Kelly and Stacy were behind me, nobody was in the turning lane but some more traffic was approaching from the read. Up ahead, Barstow’s city limits were aglow with all the night-life of an early spring evening, the glow from the lights illuminating the night sky with a beckoning call to come have fun…

The scene played out like thousands of similar scenes each night in each city of this great country… two guys in cars were lined up – man to man – and were going to slug it out for nothing more than bragging rights. It is something that has been going on since the second car was built – who has the fastest car is a question that, if you are a car nut, always needs an answer. It doesn’t matter if you’re driving a ’57 Chevy, a ’64 GTO, a ’68 Barracuda, a ’70 GTO Judge, a 32 Deuce coupe, a ’50 Merc, a ’55 Crown Vic, an ’87 5.0, a ’90 IROC Camaro – it just does not matter. If another car is beside you and you are a CAR GUY (or gal), you just HAVE to know the answer to this question – “Who’s car is faster?”

I turned down the stereo earlier, sacrificing the Chili Pepper’s latest tune, “Snow” (an absolute AWESOME song by the way) because I wanted to hear the music that those two guys to my right were about to play out. I had heard the whine of the Cobra’s blower as he slowed and I wondered if he might have Whippled it or more… it was LOUD… louder than B’s Shelby for sure…

Watching the lights sequence so that the cross traffic was already stopped (only a car to our left), we were waiting for the turn lanes to sequence on through…. It would be on in less than thirty seconds… I could hear B bringing up the revs and even louder still, I could hear the Cobra jockey bringing his up as well. Brandon was back on his D/R’s so I knew that traction was definitely going to be an issue for him but I was hoping he was going to dial in a little less rpm this time in the hopes of dancing with the devil trying to avoid bogging the motor or blowing off the tires… it wouldn’t take much either way – the rpms had to be JUST RIGHT…

We watched the turn lanes’ lights go to caution…

The rpms of the two Mustangs were steady… not screaming but still bare-chested strong… Terminator Cobra versus Shelby GT500…

I hadn’t noticed what the Cobra was shod with. I was just wishing I had the video camera in hand – I knew Brandon would have wanted me to film this if at all possible…

None of us noticed that approaching from the other direction was another late model Dodge Charger. It had slowed to a stop in the inside lane and was plain-Jane white, looking all for the world like any other ’06 or ’07 R/T Charger.

Have you ever been about to do something, maybe watch something, that you get this little niggling feeling that you really shouldn’t do or that maybe you should try to stop? As I watched that white Charger slow to a stop, I wondered if B or the Cobra guy noticed him… Knowing how a driver gets zoned in when he’s about to race I already knew the answer – no, they did not even see it. Both Brandon and Cobra jockey were staring at the light waiting for the amber to light in the turn lane which would clue them to get ready to loose the reins on their rides…

We didn’t know it but sitting in the white Charger was someone who just happened to take stock of the situation in the lanes approaching HIM. Seeing three high performance vehicles lined up side to side to side, he deduced very quickly that a street race MIGHT just be going down.

Of course – he was right. So, without batting an eye, he just sat and watched…. And waited…

Back on our side of the intersection, the light began to cycle… time stood still once more… the sounds of the motors seemed to drop in tone, almost to guttural growls of some prehistoric beasts or leviathans, trying to size each other up in order to kill the opposing foe…

The guy in the Charger reached down on the passenger side seat and picked something up… he had already put his car in park, even though he was sitting in a driving lane… no one was behind him… he casually opened the door and began to step from the car… no one could see him remove the hat from his head and lay it down on the seat where he had just picked up the…

Yellow… in less than a second, our lanes would go green and both B and the Cobra would launch HARD into the night…

Across the intersection, I just happened to see that whoever was in the Charger had opened the door… ‘That’s odd’ I remember thinking… ‘He should be getting ready to pull away…. I wonder why he’s stepping from his car?”

I didn’t know it at that precise moment but it just so happened that Brandon had noticed the Charger’s door opening… yet, he paid it no mind… he had a race to run… the Cobra guy was completely oblivious… he smelled a certifiable kill of a Shelby about to happen…

GREEN!!! Both cars launched and launched hard! Brandon and the Cobra were neck and neck from the line, neither one noting that the guy in the Charger was standing by his door, aiming something he was holding in both hands in their direction and following them as they passed him… roaring off towards the city limits…

Had either B or the Cobra guy looked, they would have noticed that the guy watching them was wearing a uniform… and he was intently aiming his device at them as they passed by him… he turned to follow them, noting what was reading out on the display of the object he held in his hand… license plate numbers were also being recorded had either Ford driver taken the time to notice…

But they didn’t… they were racing…

Street racing… a dangerous and very, very illegal thing to do. But also an event that will never cease as long as two people have cars… especially high-performance coupes with hundreds of horsepower…

Both cars were neck and neck. Both were running six speeds which is the stock transmission of both cars – Tremec T-56’s I believe. The screams of both blowers wailed strongly in the night… I tried to launch reasonably because I had seen what the Charger guy was doing – he was getting it all down…. But yet, I didn’t want to miss what might happen. As I passed the Charger, I saw the driver slide back into the seat of his car… looking in my mirror, I watched the big Mopar cross on over and make a U-turn, accelerating quickly up behind the girls and me… then, he was lost from sight for a moment… I tried to see who was leading up ahead but I knew it was close…

Just then, I saw Charger headlights pull into the lane to my right – the lane B was in – and that the car was pulling rapidly upon me. Up ahead, I saw the taillights of the Cobra go on first, then B’s….

I still didn’t know who had ‘won’ – but I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to matter because I just knew for sure that the white Charger was one of Barstow’s new Police Chargers… and that Brandon was busted dead to rights for street racing… THIS was going to be expensive…

The white Charger passed me and the roar of its Hemi sped on into the night, racing towards the two Mustangs. I saw that both B and the Cobra had pulled off into a car lot (“Delord’s Auto Center”). As we neared, I watched the Charger pull in as well…

In seconds, our caravan pulled into the lot and we saw the guy from the Charger was talking to both B and the Cobra guy. I could see the crisp creases of his uniform pants, the shine of his black shoes glistening with the reflection of the overhead lights that were also dancing beams from the many, many cars on the lot… I noted his regulation shirt and its many pins and markings…

And I noticed he was holding something in his hand, showing it to both B and the Cobra guy… doomed… they were definitely doomed now…

As I pulled up and stopped, hearing Kel and Stacy do the same, it was then I noticed that there were no flashing lights on the Charger. I thought that was odd…

And, I also noticed that this cop wasn’t wearing his gun belt... that was odd too…

And, I noticed that the Charger didn’t have city plates on it – they were marked “Government”… what the hell?

It was then I noticed that I wasn’t watching a Cop about to read B and the Cobra guy their Miranda rights – it was an Air Force Recruiter who had recorded the entire race on his hand held JVC Digital camcorder!

Whew!!!!

Now THAT was a close call!

As I walked up, B was all excited… “Did you SEE THAT, Steve?”

“Actually, I couldn’t see crap – and I was sure I was going to need whatever prize money I MIGHT win to get your sorry ass out of jail for street racing right in front of a policeman! So – what’s the deal?”

B went on to explain that they were pretty much neck and neck until well into second gear, that he had got a good launch and that the shifts went perfectly. But he also went on to say that…

He lost. The Terminator just had a little too much for his Shelby.

“So, you lost – but you’re still grinning? What’s up with that, B?”

He just kept grinning as did the guy in the Air Force blues… interesting, isn’t it? There are Car Nuts EVERYWHERE!

“Well, I might have lost THIS race but we’re going to meet up again come May 6 when you are racing good, ol’ Bill. Seems that this Cobra – oh, this is Derrick by the way and he’s a good guy; after all, he DOES drive a FORD you know – has a few mods. Now, I’m not using this as an excuse but listen to this…

He’s got a stage 3 ported supercharger, ported plenum, ported BBK twin 65mm TB, a K&N filter, an upper pulley, Dynomax exhaust, high-flow cats, a fairly new spec stage 3 clutch, a new shifter, MT drag radial tires on back, and the car is putting down over 500 RWHP! Hell, I’m happy I gave him the race I did!”

Wow… I KNEW that car sounded bad-ass!

We all shot the breeze for a few more minutes, the recruiter got our email addresses and promised to send up a file of the race, and we got back in our cars, joined by Derrick in his yellow Cobra…

But none of us – not even the recruiter had noticed the shiny Silver 300C that had pulled onto the lot at the far end, slowed to a stop and then shut off. Nor could we see that we were being filmed… and we definitely didn’t know that while the Air Force recruiter had filmed the race as well, that so did someone else…

Someone who was NOT as nearly nice as the guy who had just left the lot in the white Charger… someone who WAS carrying a gun…

Actually, they were ALL carrying guns…

And Bill Reynolds was one of them.







We had just pulled out of the car lot, heading for the Red Barn when I happened to notice that a big Chrysler was hanging back a couple of car lengths behind me. I was last in line, behind B, Stacy, and Kel in that order. I really didn’t think much of it because traffic had started to pick up almost immediately after we pulled back onto the street.

But after we had made a couple of turns to get over to the street that had the Red Barn on it (‘Restaurant Row’), that was when I noticed that this car seemed to be shadowing us. It usually kept a car or so between us when there was other traffic; when there wasn’t any, it hung back. I could tell by the street lights that it was a silver 300C - but that was it. Nothing special about it at first glance and to be honest, I never really gave it much thought other than it seemed a bit odd that it was – at least for the moment – matching each turn and speed change that our caravan had made.

But when 30 Seconds from Mars came on the radio with their recent hit, “From Yesterday”, I completely dismissed the notion that we were ‘being followed’. I simply got ‘lost’ in the song and dismissed the Oliver Stone mentality from my mind…

When we finally pulled into the brightly lit lot of the Red Barn, none of us even noticed that the big Chrysler slowed a bit and then quietly drove on by the restaurant and on down the road, disappearing in the traffic and the night. And of course, we had no clue that inside that car was Bill Reynolds along with three other men who we would later find out had reputations that made Bill’s storied past look like one of the Apostle’s in comparison… but we WOULD find that out later…

Wheeling on into the Barn’s vast parking area, a cornucopia of automotive performance came into view. The Barn has been around for years, almost going out of business back in the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s - when it seemed that real performance was a dying passion and the young people of the day were busy building up their stereo systems much more than trying to wring a lower ET out of an anemic late ’70 Camaro or Mustang; when front wheel drive Mopars even dared to come calling with such hallowed names as “Daytona” or “Shelby”. It certainly seemed during those barren years that the oil companies and OPEC - along with the entire Insurance industry – were determined to kill performance cars. And worse yet, it seemed that the car manufacturers were buying into it as well.

But somehow, some way, the fire flickered - but it didn’t die. Ford gets a lot of credit, perhaps deserves all of it, for keeping performance alive during the transition to the fuel injected age with the Mustang. Many of us can argue that the Mustang II was hardly a performance car but as Brandon and I argued about for years (and that I ultimately had to agree that he was right), the Mustang led the way. Sure, the Camaro was around as was the Firebird – but the Mustang and the 5.0 especially had the support of the buying public as well as the aftermarket and because of them, performance did not die.

Sure – the Road Runner was gone. As was the GTO, the Chevelle, the Impala SS, the Fairlane, the GTX, the Thunderbolt, the AMX, the Javelin… they were all distant memories. As were engines such as would seem to never be seen again – LT-1’s, L-88’s, 426 Hemi’s, 390’s, 428 and 429’s, 340’s and on and on and on… it even FELT that performance – if not dead – was breathing its last breath… WAS it the end? We just could not be sure…

And then, in the early ‘80’s, even Buick’s performance team got their collective heads together and the turbocharged Regal came to be. Chevrolet grew a set and began to offer the 350 engine back in an F-body… the Mustang got healthier with the potent 5.0 gaining some horsepower in serious numbers… and the sinister intercooled Turbo Buicks came out to lay all to waste…

Performance was coming back… slowly… steadily… it was making a comeback.

I remember back in those years when we would all pull into the Barn, we would see a few of the dinosaurs… there might be an LT1 Vette, perhaps a Boss 302, maybe even a GTX; but they were few and far between. Usually, they were crowded out by the kids driving cars that – if they were lucky – had about as much horsepower as the number of dollars in those kids’ pockets. You would see Malibu’s, Laguna’s (what an UGLY name, we always joked, even if the car wasn’t THAT bad looking), Chrysler K cars, and – get this – even VANS!

Those were definitely lean years indeed… I guess that was why we always seemed to draw a crowd whenever Brandon or I would pull in with our own old dinosaurs. Performance people – REAL performance people - have always known what was real and what was just a car with stickers, a noisy exhaust, and a big stereo. Even when the auto industry was trying to convince us that if a car had even 175 HP it was a ‘performance car’, we knew they were lying.

Performance always came with big Horsepower numbers. It came with posi. It came in a V8. It came with a four-speed and a Hurst shifter (usually – we never did like to admit even to ourselves that a well tweaked auto could - and often DID - beat a guy with a four-gear). And performance ALWAYS had one absolute; one incontrovertible fact of life…

Performance ALWAYS came with AT LEAST the rear tires driving the car. No one ever took front wheel drive seriously back then – and if we’re being honest, most performance guys today (narrow-minded as we might be) will never admit that even those pesky SRT-4 Neon’s and Si Honda Civics are ‘performance’ cars.

Nope. Performance MUST have rear wheel drive, a locking diff (“Sure Grip”, “Posi”, “Traction Lock”, etc) and it has a big, healthy, stump-pulling V8. It needs a moniker like “LT1”, “LS2”, DOHC, “5.7 Hemi”, “LS7”, 6.1 Hemi, and so forth… yes, performance is breathing again… and now, it was parked in parking spaces that 30 years ago held cars with big engines with similar designations…

Performance is DEFINITELY alive once more…

So, when we finally found four parking spaces adjoining each other, we had already seen a LOT of performance cars around the restaurant, many of which that, like us, had just came from Tri-County. And people were everywhere, almost like you see at any typical car show in Anytown, USA on a weekend; they were out of their cars, some sitting on the hoods talking and bench racing… others were clustered around somebody’s open hood, ogling the motor and it’s shiny pieces, often commenting about how they might have hidden a Nitrous set-up or what specs the newly installed cam might have (or cams, as in the new OHC cars that are the rage today, especially those Mustangs and Cobras)…

Sometimes, they were crouched down beside a killer set of wheels and admiring the look that the 17’s, or 18’s, or even bigger added to the car. Lately, it seemed that 17’s or 18’s have become the most commonly installed size (well, other than those going for the mega-dub look, a look that you usually don’t see on a car that will be making a pass at Tri-County). Many were grabbing a bite to eat, having had the waitresses bring them their favorite Barn food; waitresses who, like those from the ‘50’s, STILL rolled around on white high-top, laced up and tied tight roller skates – a HUGE draw to the Barn…

This night was no different than many others… the Barn always felt comfortable and inviting. The lighting was great, the food was great (and cheap), the waitresses were GORGEOUS, and the car guys and gals loved the covered parking areas that still had the satin finished intercom systems that you pushed a button on to give your order to someone who was inside the building; that same someone who gave the order to most likely another young person with a passion for food and cars who fixed that order who in turn gave that prepared food to a wheeled waitress waiting at the open window who in turn brought it to your window… just like it was 1969 all over again…

Music blared over the P/A system continuously, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. The restaurant was open nearly the same - except for major holidays. And the business was always good.

As we shut off the cars, Kelly hopped out of her GTO and slid in beside me. Stacy did the same, jumping in next to B with all of us busy scanning the menus that are posted on a brightly backlit area just above the intercom system (that looks a LOT like the speakers you used to see at the local Drive-In theatres). The menu at the Barn is simple – burgers (in every variation you can imagine), fries (that McDonalds WISHES it could copy) or onion rings, shakes/malts/sodas, and in a tip of the hat to healthier food, even a few salads are available. In a blink, we had given our orders to the voice behind the button so now, all we had to do was wait and admire the iron parked nearby, listening to the golden oldie of Sam Cooke’s playing loudly over the P/A…

” Don't know much about history,
Don't know much biology,
Don't know much about a science book…
Don't know much about the French I took…
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me too,
What a wonderful world this would be…”

Most of the cars were like all those you see on any given Friday night in any given town… Mustangs, Camaros, Chargers, Magnums, pick-ups, and such… they were everywhere. And, like you also see everywhere, there were various levels of performance.

But one that really stuck out this night was an old red Studebaker – a Commander I think- that had a huge blower sticking out of its highly polished hood, having huge meats out back with skinnies up front. There were so many people clustered around that particular car that I didn’t even see that it was a Studie at first. And actually, at first glance one might mistake it for a late ‘60’s non-fastback Barracuda. But this particular car was healthy and over the top. I never did get to talk to the owner, an older guy with thinning and graying hair, who told those who were fortunate enough to get close to him that his dad had bought the car for him when he graduated from high school; that many often thought it was a Packard, and that the motor in the car now was a GM 572 crate motor with a 6-71 blower on it, backed by a built Turbo 400 that twists an aluminum drive-shaft that twists the ring and pinion inside a Dana 60 rear. And, he also said he never had raced the car – he just built it because he wanted to.

That, my friend, is a car guy.

In the end, the rest of the night went by quickly… we ate our food, walked around the lot a bit admiring some more of the cars, and then unanimously decided that it was time to head home. Before we left, we all got a good laugh out of Brandon retelling his street race earlier in the evening that we all thought was going to end up with him and Derrick both behind bars. Finally, agreeing that it was time to go, we saddled back up and headed back to our house. Once we got there, Stacy parked the big Charger in front of the garage, tossed me the keys, and then hopped in B’s Shelby, both of them waving good-bye as they left and headed on out into the night.

The moon was out and it was a cloudless, cold night sky. Kelly and I just stood there side by side for a moment; enjoying the quietness of the late hour... it was hard to believe that it was already Sunday and that the events just hours ago almost seemed like surely they must have happened to someone else or that it must have been a long time ago…

I guess we were just… tired… and more tired than we really realized until we had stopped moving…

“Well, Steve… where are you going to park THIS car?”

She had a point. I hadn’t even thought about where I was going to park the SRT because I never DREAMED I would be coming home with ANOTHER car! But – here it was… all shiny red and with a clear title, it was ours. Now, many would say it was ‘mine’ but in my house, what is mine is ‘ours’. I guess maybe I just wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I actually owned a Mopar? Hmmm…. There’s always a first for everything.

“What do you think, Kelly? Maybe over in the ‘annex’?”

She just shrugged her shoulders at first. “I don’t know Steve. That part of the building has that ‘other car’ in it; you know - the one that ‘does not play well with others’, as you say? So – I don’t know if they will ‘get along’…” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

What she said wasn’t far from the truth. We had never parked another car next to ‘it’. I don’t really know why… maybe we just never felt that it should have to share space with less worthy mechanical beasts… because it had convinced us in some strangely mechanical and soulful way that it was indeed special; one of a kind and from an era when giants roamed the earth…. Giants who bowed their heads to NO man…

From the day we had brought it home from Dollar-Bill’s farm, we had no doubt that the Stage 3 GSX was special. I had never taken it out in the daylight – it just seemed to fit that it should stay hidden in the dark. I only drove it at night, usually week nights when the traffic wasn’t as prevalent, and often with Kelly at my side. Maybe we just never wanted to ‘share’ this car with the world… it was loud… it was raw… and it felt deliciously dangerous to drive it; like it was just on the very edge – even teetering OVER the edge – of being civil and friendly to anyone other than those who were strapped in its wide ‘bucket’ seats… the paint had been brought back to its deep lustrous finish, looking wet and deep… almost as if one could ‘fall’ into the hood and keep falling and dropping…. It was ‘our’ car and we felt that it ‘allowed’ us the privilege of riding in it; almost as a grizzly would tolerate us riding its powerful form – but only us and no one else…

So, when she said what she said, we both knew she was right… we couldn’t park the Charger in there… the GSX needed its own space… We only had one other car that we knew might be a worth stable mate to the GSX someday… and that car wasn’t running - just yet.

Close. But not quite yet… when it was finished, we had no doubt where it should finally be parked when not out on the street…

But for now, the GSX would sit alone in its dark bay, waiting for ‘its’ time… waiting… patiently, just as it had in that old dusty barn for so many years… just… simply… waiting… as all killers and predators do.

“So… with my Goat in the first bay, your GN in the second bay, the WE4 in bay 3 – or is it in 4? - and so forth – you really don’t have much choice do you? Hey! Maybe it could go out back – in the new building?”

I never gave it a thought to be honest. We had built the oversize building shortly after the first of the year, initially to be a new body shop of sorts. But, because I had to actually go outside to get to it, I had yet to move the painting equipment out there – it just didn’t feel ‘handy’ yet.

It was a 40x60 building, three ten-foot wide by ten foot tall overhead doors, insulated and heated, and it has a lift in it too. I got a good deal on the building material and a buddy who was begging for winter work put it up at a great savings for us. Since it had only been up for less than two months and since it was out of sight for the most part, it was easy to not think about it.

But not for Kelly… she knew it was there. We hadn’t got the drive back to it paved yet but the stone was down. Yes – it would be a perfect place to park the Dodge.

We both got in the SRT-8. As I slid into the racing seat I noticed how well built the car was, how solid the doors felt and especially the great fit/finish of the overall vehicle. I did like the fact that the ignition switch was on the dash – the place God intended it to be. Turning the key, the big Hemi started easily with the blower growling a bit as if to warn any nearby vehicle that this car was to be taken seriously. The instrument panel was well laid out and easy to read… the ergonomics of the car were perfect.

I wheeled the big car on around to the side drive and on out back to up in front of the first door of the ‘shop’. Kelly hopped out and using the keypad attached to the side pillar, entered the opener sequence which in turn opened the bay’s big overhead door. Immediately the light from the garage door opener came on which also triggered the overheads to come on. With that, the entire building was flooded with light. The white walls and the white ceiling shown brightly, increasing the reflective value of the three rows of 8’ fluorescents overhead.

The black/white checkerboard floor gleamed cleanly and as we drove on into the bay, the tires squeaked as they rolled over the surface. We shut the car down and I grabbed a screwdriver to remove Bill’s plates which only took a few seconds. With that, we walked back out, I hit the door button and the big door began to drop as the overheads went off.

We then walked back to the front of the house, put the other cars away, closed the garage doors and finally went inside. Cleaning up the cars (and especially the rubber off the fenders) would have to wait until tomorrow. I dropped the title for the SRT-8 on the bar as I walked by, thinking to myself that I would have to go to the title department on Monday…. And up the stairs we went…

After a quick shower, we called it a night…. Sheesh… what a day it had been… we had only gone to the track to have some fun. Now, we had a new car in the garage – I wondered how much more the insurance bill would be - and a bigger race than either of us ever dreamed was scheduled to occur less than 2 months away.

It was then that those doubts and fears began to creep back into my head…. But not for long. In less than a minute after my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.

Let the fear and worry wait until tomorrow… it was dream time now… But the problem with dreams is that often a dream is really a nightmare in disguise…

You just don’t know it at the time… or often until it’s too late to do anything about it but just meet it head on…







Sunday was a fairly quiet day. Kel and I spent most of it just relaxing and finally got around to getting the cars cleaned up. I thought about going out and giving the Charger a good look to see what it was exactly that I had won but for some reason it just didn’t rank high on the priority list. Maybe it was an emotional letdown from the huge high the previous night – it didn’t matter; I never even went out to that garage the entire day.

Monday came around as Mondays always do… too soon. The weekend had come and gone; we had some fun and a lot of excitement, came home from the track with a huge win (and a car for the prize – during a Test and Tune session!) so Monday brought back to the forefront the undeniable truth that we had to get back to normal. Normal meant work, schedules, routine, getting up early, and so forth. Life – as always – moves on…

After work, I had planned to go down to the title department and get the title for the Charger switched over into my name. I got there a little before 4pm with a half hour to spare since they close at 4:30. But, as usually is the case, there were a lot of people waiting. “Take a number” said the little signboard so I did and went to sit down and wait my turn…

I don’t know about you, but I hate waiting at the DMV. I know – the staff there is going as fast as they can. But why is it that it ALWAYS seems that when I go down there, there are only one or two people working behind the counter? On a Monday? And of course there is always someone there to get new plates who doesn’t have the proper paper work… or someone who didn’t bring proof of Identification… or didn’t bring their old driver’s license… or, well, you get the picture. On this day, I waited while one guy had to get two titles transferred plus plates for two pickups and three cars. And of course, he was being served by the nice little old lady who can type at around 3-4 words per minute… Grrrr!

Eventually, hell froze over and my number was called. Mercifully, I was going to be helped by “Sasha”, a chesty brunette with a big smile and an engaging personality.

“How may I help you today, sir?”

“I just need to get this title switched over to my name and get some plates for it.”

We have a “One Stop Does It All” DMV.

“Is the seller here, sir?”

“Uh, no. But his signature has been notarized. It’s there on the back of the title…”

Sasha turned the form over, gave it a good look over and then got a funny look on her face. She then stood up and took the title with her back to another computer and entered some numbers or info and waited. I could not see the screen so I had no idea what she was checking.

She then motioned for the guy who had just come back in and who apparently must also work behind the counter to come over. He walked over and looked at an area of the screen where she was pointing. They murmured something to each other and he then walked back over to the counter. OMG… now I was going to be the clown that holds up the line…

“Sir? Where did you get this title?” Ok, now I was going to have to explain what I was actually trying to avoid.

“Well, to be honest, I won this car Saturday night at Tri-County drag strip – er, I mean Tri-County Raceway Park. Why? Is something wrong?”

“You WON this car, sir? How?” I noted that he did not answer my question…

“In a race. The owner lost, I won the car, he signed the title over, a Notary was there to make it official and so here I am today. Again – is something wrong?”

“Just a minute sir…” He walked back to the computer screen where Sasha still stood. They whispered some more and then he went to the back of the room and picked up a phone and made a call. Meanwhile, Sasha came back up to the counter.

“Sir? Would you step aside for a moment? Todd – who is the registrar here - is checking on something and he’ll be right back with you.”

I know my glare would have wilted her if possible but I had no choice but to ‘step aside’. So, I did… and I waited while Todd made his call. I watched him put the phone down and then come back to the side of the counter where I was standing.

“Mr. Morton, there is a serious problem with this title. Well, to be honest, there are at least TWO serious problems with this title. Let’s go back to my office and I’ll explain, ok?”

I KNEW it… maybe that was why I didn’t get excited yesterday and go running back out to the new garage and take the SRT for a ride. Something just did not feel right and maybe my gut was trying to tell me that in a big way. Since I didn’t pay any attention to what my intuition was telling me, Todd was hopefully now about to make it clear.

He reached down and released the latch to allow me to go ‘back behind the counter at the DMV’; hallowed ground for sure. I followed him on through and around the huge printers and open suspended files to the corner where the door was open into his office.

“Todd Lupener – Registrar” was proclaimed from another of those little plastic signs on his door. I followed him in, noting the smell of paper and old wood, and grabbed a green vinyl seat in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. With all pomp and circumstance befitting his esteemed office, he walked around behind his big metal desk and sat down in the squeaky desk chair that looked like it was covered with ancient fabric used to make heavy-duty curtains.

He then sat the title aside, leaned up onto his desk, folded his hands and just looked at me – almost in a suspicious way. I felt really uncomfortable – and I had no clue as to why.

“Mr. Morton, we – well, YOU actually – have a problem here with the DMV. It seems that you are presenting a title for replacement to car that is listed as stolen by the DMV and the major law enforcement agencies of this state as well as the NCIC. We’ve run the VIN three times and we are certain that this car is stolen…”

I know the look on my face said something to Todd; I just didn’t know what it was… But I was sure that at least part of that look was one of complete and utter surprise. He continued…

“But Mr. Morton, there is actually a bigger problem. Do you have any idea what that might be?”

“Well, Todd…” (Oddly, old Saturday Night Live skits danced through my head…), “actually, no. What is the deal here? I certainly had no idea that the car was stolen. And, I’m sure that the Notary didn’t know that either or she would not have endorsed it, right?”

Todd had an odd frown on his face.

“Mr. Morton, that in itself is also a problem. That person who ‘notarized’ this title is not listed anywhere within our bureau. The seal used to notarize this title was also reported stolen by a valid notary just before the end of last year. And the name used by this supposed ‘notary’? She’s dead, Mr. Morton. She’s been dead for over a year, having retired from public service over two years ago. Do you see where this is going?”

I hate it when I have to defend myself for something I certainly did not do or have any part or knowledge of but that is EXACTLY where I felt I was being led…

“Look here, Todd… here is the deal. I told Sasha how I came about this title and the car and that is the truth. Regarding the notary, the seal, or the legality of the title, I had no way of knowing anything you are telling me nor did I know anything about it until you just now told me. So – where are you going with this?”

Todd leaned back in his green paisley-print curtain chair and folded his arms across his chest. Hmmm… the classic “I think you’re lying to me but I’m going to listen” pose…

“Ok, Mr. Morton. If – and I’m only saying ‘IF’ – what you are telling me is true, how do you explain the last piece of this puzzle?”

“And what would that ‘piece’ be, Todd?” (More SNL skits flashed in my brain, in spite of the serious nature of the conversation…)

“That this ‘William R. Reynolds’ is also dead. The ‘owner’ of this car died over a year ago – so how could he possibly endorse this title, Mr. Morton? Do you see the problem?” I was sure I saw a smirk crawl upon Todd’s pasty face.

“Well, Todd – I don’t think that this is really my problem. I’m going to leave here and call my attorney – who my wife works with by the way – and he will get it all straightened out. I’ll take that title with me so hand it over…”

The look on Todd’s face was now most assuredly a smarmy smirk.

“Not so fast, Mr. Morton. I have one other person for you to talk to before you leave… just a moment, ok?”

Todd reached over and picked up his cream-colored desk phone - one that had what surely was AT LEAST 10 buttons on the body for a variety of lines to somewhere or to somebody more important than he – pressed one of the buttons and waited. He then spoke cryptically…

“Is he here yet? Ok… send him in.”

“Is ‘WHO’ here, Todd?’ He didn’t answer. He got up and walked over to his door, waited for a slight ‘knock-knock’ and opened it.

In walked my old neighbor, Jim Schaffer, the County Sheriff. And this time, the look on his face was even more serious than the last time I saw him.

Meanwhile... out front Sasha had been patiently waiting for Jim to go back into the Registrar's office. As soon as he closed the door behind him she got on her own phone -with an equal number of buttons - hit "9" for an outside line and made a call of her own...

Inside a silver sedan that was just rolling into a large warehouse in downtown Barstow, a cell phone began to ring. The passenger in the back of the car pulled his phone from his jacket's inner pocket and listened to what the female voice was telling him. He did not speak to her only to say, "Good" and then closed up the phone as he placed it back in his pocket...

Back inside Todd's office, Jim sat down in the chair beside me, removed his hat and placed it on Todd’s desk on top of a black leather folder that he had carried into the room. He reached into his breast pocket, took out a note pad and pen, and then turned to look at me squarely. He had yet to even speak to me…

“Steve, I’m going to need to hear your side of the story as to why you are presenting the title to a stolen car to the DMV today. Give it to me straight, ok?” Jim was all business… there was no denying that he was not in the mood to be friendly or jovial.

So, I gave it to him straight and truthful, the only way I know to be anyways. It took about 10 minutes of talking to get him up to speed on the events that had happened since Ned’s death and about the cars that had circled my house a few weeks before with one of them being the SRT-8 Charger that – at this point – was sitting in my garage. Jim didn’t ask any questions; he just wrote down basically everything I said.

When I finished he spoke… “Is this it? You raced this guy for pink slips, you won, you got his car, and now you’re here getting a new title for it, right?”

For the first time since I had walked behind the counter, I was no longer uneasy. I knew the truth would win out, no matter which direction this went.

“Yep, Jim. That is it in a nutshell. That’s the entire story and you can check it out – it’s solid.”

“Steve, if I showed you a picture of William Reynolds, could you identify him?”

“Absolutely. Do you have it with you or do I need to come down to your office?”

He didn’t answer - he just retrieved the folder from beneath his hat, released its bronze clasp and took out a couple of pictures.

“Is this William Reynolds, Steve? Is THIS the William Reynolds who you won this car from?”

I looked at the 5x7 picture Jim held before me.

“Jim, I don’t know who that guy is. But I can tell you who he ISN’T – he is not the guy I won the car from last night…”

“Just as I figured, Steve. So, is THIS the guy who said he was William Reynolds?”

He held another picture in front of me. I noticed that Todd was leaning over trying to see the pic… curious as a cat…

“No doubt about it, Jim. That’s Bill Reynolds alright – he’s the guy who was driving the SRT-8 and the man who signed off on the title.”

He flipped another picture from beneath the others and handed it to me. It was in black and white and showed three (or maybe four - one looked to be standing behind one of the others but it was hard to be sure) foreign-looking men. Two of them were wearing suits and the one closest to the camera was in a set of coveralls like you see most mechanics wearing in dealerships that sell exotic imports like Ferraris or Porsches. The men were standing together talking, almost as if they were oblivious to having their picture taken, but two of them appeared to be laughing about something. Behind them was what looked to be a large service bay with some low-slung car upon a lift but I couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’ve never seen any of those three guys in my life, Jim. Who are they?”

He didn’t answer. He just pulled up another picture and pushed it in front of me.

“Ok… and is this woman the notary who stamped your title?”

I looked at the last picture Jim held out. It was her, the notary from the track…

“Yep, that’s her. I don’t remember her name but it’s on the title. Why? Is she bogus too?”

Jim didn’t answer. He just took the pictures back and put them in the folder. He then snapped the clasp shut and put it back on the desk beneath his hat and then sat back in his chair.

“Todd? Would you excuse us for a minute? There isn’t any problem here as far as you are concerned. And while you are at, go and get Mr. Morton his new title, ok?”

Now, it was Todd’s turn to look confused.

“But Sheriff – this paper is not legit. It was flagged by the DMV as well as the FBI and that was why I called you in the first place. So surely you know that I can’t do that!”

Jim’s countenance changed again….

“Mr. Lupener, I have in this folder a notarized copy of a court order that I would be happy to give you ordering your office to comply with any of my directives regarding a pending criminal investigation. Would you like to see it? Or, if you like, I would be happy to escort you down to my office to let you see the original document. Either way – you are going to be giving Mr. Morton a new title to his newly acquired Dodge Charger and you are going to explain it to your staff as a computer error regarding the flagging of this vehicle. Am I clear?”

Todd did not answer. He turned a whiter shade of pale, simply got up and was about to leave with the title in hand when Jim spoke once more.

“Oh… and Mr. Lupener?”

“Yes, Sheriff?”

“Knock before you come back in here, ok? What I am about to share with Mr. Morton is highly confidential. And I am sure I can count on you to keep what you have heard here today to yourself, am I not correct? Because if you do not and I find out that you talk about this, I will have you warming one of my cots down at County wearing a nice horizontally striped set of coveralls while you awaiting a hearing – and we know how long that takes, don’t we? And that hearing would be for you being charged with interfering with an investigation. Now… we wouldn’t want that, would we, Todd?”

Todd gulped, meekly gasped a ‘No’ and left, closing the door behind him quietly.

As soon as the door closed, Jim leaned forward and exhaled slowly… he then began to talk.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking back out of the DMV with a new title to a stolen car in my hand as well as a new set of plates that did not cost me a dime. But more importantly, I had a few pieces to a very big puzzle that, without the entire picture, really didn’t add up… and now, I found myself smack dab in the middle of something very, very serious…

A very dangerous puzzle that had the potential to blow up in my face…. And the worst part of all?

I couldn’t tell ANYONE what I had just heard, even though a lot of it did not even make sense. I was instructed in no uncertain terms to not say a word to anyone - not even Kelly.

And because of that simple fact, I felt very, very alone…









When I got home from the DMV, Kelly asked me how things went. Man, I absolutely HATE hiding things from her. But given what Jim had just shared with me along with his explicit order to not say a word to anyone about it, I decided to – at least for now – just play it cool.

“Ah, hon… you know how that place is. Too many customers, not enough help, and then there are always problems for someone…” At least I didn’t outright lie to her and what I said was all true. I just didn’t tell her what I knew.

“So you got your plates for the Charger?”

“Yeah… it took a while and some explaining about how I got the darn thing, but I got them. But, it’s now officially our car…” Again, no lies – just not the entire story….

“Have you given any thought about the race in May?” Good. A subject I could be completely straightforward about.

“Actually, not really… the first run will be against that damn Shelby and I am more than a little concerned about running it given how things turned out Saturday night. I have no doubt that Mira will be gunning to nail the GN again.”

I had no intention of letting that happen. I just wasn’t sure how best to go about making sure of it… but I knew I would think of something.

The GN was pretty much at the top of its abilities given the combo that was in it. And, having nailed the SRT-8 with that 10.52, I realized that maybe I had a better chance against the Shelby than I thought. IF I had launched as hard against it as I did against the SRT-8, things MIGHT have gone differently. The only thing that kept bugging me was that I did not have an ET for the Shelby to compare it to.

But then again, maybe I did…

I had run a 10.83 against the Shelby – but that was with a relatively soft launch as compared to the launch against the Dodge. But - Mira had definitely lifted right at the finish; but - she wasn’t walking away from me either. So… the million dollar question was this: does her GT500 have a 10.4X in it?

It just might. Or it might not. I thought long and hard about what to do… swap motors? OR, just go with my gut and have confidence in the GN? I took my cell out of my pocket and dialed.

“Brandon? This is Steve – got any plans this weekend? You do? Then, my friend – you need to change them… I’ve got a wrench-fest planned and I need your help…”

************_________________***********

It was late Sunday before we were ready to fire the motor. Since we got a late start on the motor change-out Saturday, that put us behind for the whole weekend. But the delay was worth it.

I had ordered a new Level 10 2004R tranny with a 3800 stall converter to be mated with the Stage Motor. Fortunately, I had ordered the new transmission after I had pulled the Stage motor out of the GN last fall so it was just sitting there in the garage waiting; still wrapped in plastic in its shipping crate, just waiting to go in.

But, like most projects, it just didn’t ‘bolt right in’ – it took a while, a lot of convincing, and even a few choice words to get it mounted. They always say nothing good comes easy and this project was proof of that. However, thanks to Level 10’s foresight in including ALL the hardware that was needed, B and I didn’t lose too much time. And thankfully, I had the foresight to have ordered a new balanced aluminum driveshaft, just waiting to go into the car as was a new driveshaft loop.

By early Saturday evening, we had the Stage motor and transmission mated together and ready to drop in. A few hours later, the stock (ok, the ‘almost’ stock) LC2 and tranny were out of the car. I pulled them separately so I could put the motor on an engine stand and sat the tranny on the workbench. I already had plans to take the 2004R to Akron next time I went that way to let Vince have his way with it…

Sometime shortly before midnight, Kel came back out to the garage to check on us and make sure we weren’t squashed under the car (her eternal fear she says – as if I put the car up on cinder blocks or 2X4’s or something, which I do not).

“How’s it coming?”

“Pretty good, Kel. We’re about to lower the engine and transmission into the car and once it’s on the mounts, we’re going to quit for the night. I should be in shortly…”

Of course, Kelly knows that that REALLY means, “I think that there is a very slim chance I’ll be done here in a few hours…”

“Be careful, Steve. I’m heading on to bed…” She then gave me a quick good-night kiss and headed back into the house.

“Do ya think she believed you, Steve?” asked B with a laugh.

“Not at all – but she does know that I HOPE to be done soon and that’s all that matters. And, she understands that there is a LOT riding on this so I know without a doubt that she isn’t worried about my bedtime.” We both got a good laugh out of that one…

Actually, the drop-in went well. In a little over an hour, we had the engine/transmission in the car and the mounts bolted up so we called it a night….

Sunday went even better. We only hit a few snags but nothing major – it just takes a LOT of time to make all the connections, account for misalignment of hardware, hook up intakes, exhaust, etc... So, after the fluids were topped off, the engine primed for oil pressure, all the connections were triple checked, and the software double checked for the FAST FXI engine management system, we lowered the car to the ground for the 100th time. We had already dropped the fuel tank, installed a new double pump system, and reinstalled the tank along with a new fuel filter system. After hooking the battery back up and checking to make sure that the fuel pump’s wiring was reconnected at the rear of the car, I opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat, key in hand.

I turned the key to the ‘Run’ position and listened to the sound of the fuel pumps coming up to pressure. Brandon was standing at the driver’s side fender and gave the fuel rail/injectors a good look-see to make sure no surprise leakers were found. Seeing that everything was dry, he gave me the thumbs up.

“Ok Steve – let’s see how she sounds… light ‘er up.”

I rotated the big key forward to the “Start” position… immediately the circuit was closed that sent electrical current to the big starter that in turn began the monumental job of turning over the stage motor. In less than 2-3 revolutions, the monster fired with a roar, settling into a deep rumble that shook the garage walls...

This Stage motor wasn’t even ‘stock’ as Stage II motors go… it was overbuilt from the ground up. When I sent it out for repair of the leak last fall, I had it essentially bullet-proofed. From the 90mm Accufab T/B to the forged Buick Motorsports crank and rotating assemblies; from the Champion GN1R heads to the Stainless ATR headers and 5 inch Downpipe, the engine was built and built strong. Out front, a Cotton custom Front Mount I/C was in charge of keeping the enormous volume of compressed air cool coming from the volleyball-sized PT74 turbo being rammed down the gaping maw of the intake.

I let the engine idle for a few moments as B and I went over the car looking for leaks and listening for odd noises. The data on the FAST computer was solid and right where I wanted everything to be… the exhaust was still open but I would take care of that later in the week as well as the work on the rear end I needed to do.

The noise in the garage was deafening; the smell of the headers being heated and the deposits on them beginning to burn off was reassuring – the car lived. Sounds of metal being heated, injectors firing, and the violent explosions of the firing cycle of the big V6 were music to our ears… In spite of the late hour, Brandon and I grinned like first-time fathers hearing their new baby’s cry for the first time…

We both knew that a lot more work would be needed before this car was ready to tear up the quarter mile. Hopefully, this Stage II would be able to handle whatever they threw at it… I just hoped the GN at least had the Shelby covered because I was going to run it first, no matter what.

If I was wrong, this low mileage – but extremely wicked - WE4 wouldn’t even hit the track that night…

***************______________***************


“Hello?”

“Steve? This is Jim… got a minute?”

“Sure… what’s up?”

“Can you stop by after work today? I need to run something by you… say, around 4 or so?”

I hadn’t heard from Jim since that day at the DMV. It had been three weeks and it was almost as if what I had experienced that day was a dream. Until this phone call...

“Yeah, I can make it. Anything you can tell me now?”

“I’ll explain it all when you get here. See you at 4 then.”

*Click*

With that, the conversation was over. I placed the phone back in its cradle on my desk and immediately my mind began to race. After making myself crazy for a few minutes, I decided that the best thing I could do would be to not even think about it and to just see what he had to say…. I tried to bury myself in the mountain of paperwork on my desk…

Easy to say – hard to do…

*************___________************

I walked into the Sheriff’s department a few minutes before 4. Jim and a deputy were behind the duty desk looking through some papers. He looked up when I came through the door, handed the papers to the deputy and motioned for me to follow him on back into his office. He then shut the door behind me.

“Steve, I’m not sure if we should go ahead with this race or not…”

Wow. There’s a conversation starter if there ever was one….

“Why is that? I thought this was all leading up to that night?”

“First, because this investigation is growing by the day and I don’t like where it looks to be going. But also because of what we discovered today… Here… look at these…”

He held out a handful of pictures. At first, I didn’t understand their significance nor could I see how they were related in any way to each other…One was a picture of a big ship sitting at a dock somewhere, possibly Lake Erie but you couldn’t tell for sure. It looked like a container ship and from the way it was riding low in the water, it appeared to be loaded…

The second was of two of the men I had seen in the picture that Jim showed me at the DMV that day. But this time, they were sitting in a Silver 300C with the windows rolled down outside a swanky down-town restaurant somewhere.

The third picture looked like it was taken inside a large warehouse, possibly by a concealed camera due to the quality of the photo – it showed rows of cars parked nose to tail, most of them being high-performance or exotics and both of the men in the second picture were standing between two of the rows. One of them was holding a clip board with several papers on it; the other just stood there with his arms folded, as if he was bored.

The fourth pic was of the man who I knew as Bill Reynolds – talking to Sasha, the girl from the DMV outside the same restaurant (where ever that restaurant was – I didn’t recognize it). In it, Sasha looked angry – or frightened – and Bill appeared to be gesturing towards someone or something. That picture caused a chill to creep up my back…

But the last picture was the most intriguing…

It was a photograph of Ned Reynolds talking to someone who appeared to be a doctor. In it, Ned looked fairly healthy – in fact, he was in street clothes. But the oddest thing of all was who the doctor appeared to be.

In spite of having on surgical garb, the stethoscope, and usual surgeon’s attire, there was no mistaking that the ‘doctor’ was none other than Bill Reynolds. And to add icing to the cake, Bill was talking to Ned in the parking lot of a hospital or medical center - and Ned was seated in the driver’s seat of an ambulance…

“Now – THIS is an interesting picture. Where did you get them, Jim?”

“We have our sources… all I can say is that they are legit and were all taken within the past few days other than that one of the people we know as Ned and Bill Reynolds – that pic just came to us in the mail in an unmarked envelope but we have narrowed down that it was mailed from an area near where that DMV office is located. There is a date on the back of the picture that, if correct, was taken the day AFTER Ned’s supposed funeral. We’re trying to analyze the handwriting as we speak but we don’t think it will give us any clues…”

I felt confusion wash over me. None of this was making any sense at all, nor could I see why I was sitting here in Jim’s office looking at these pictures.

“So, what do you need from me? Why did you want me to come down here? None of these pictures cause me any great alarm – at least not sufficiently to agree that the race should not proceed.”

For just a fleeting moment, I had the feeling that Jim really just wanted to see if I was willing to go through with it. But I also knew Jim would never say that up front…

“Well, first I wanted you to see these pics – especially that last one. It appears that Ned may not be dead after all IF that date checks out and I thought you should know that as well as see it first hand. I imagine that it will check out though…”

“And?” I asked… Jim just stared at me, as if he was sizing me up or trying to read my mind…

“And? For what other reason did you ask me to come down here, Jim?” I asked again…

“Follow me out to the garage…I want to show you something… it’s really not related to this case though…”

“Ok… let’s go…”

He got up, opened the door and headed down the side hallway with me shadowing him. We eventually walked through a series of security doors before walking out into the cooler air of the big County garage.

“Look over there.” He pointed over towards a car parked in the direction we were walking that was draped with a light brown car cover.

“Help me pull this cover off if. I think you’ll find this car very, very interesting…”

The silhouette of the fabric covered vehicle looked familiar… we both lifted the cover off its flanks, and dropped it to the ground beside the car. I gasped when I saw what had been hidden…

It was a white Trans-Am. One with gold wire-mesh looking wheels, a big spoiler, and tannish interior. The hood had a series of ducts/slats in the front part of it and I recognized it instantly. It was one of 1555, turbo-charged and intercooled pieces of automotive/Buick history, made only one year and was in fact the Indy Pace car for that year.

It was a 1989 TTA and it looked like it just came off the showroom floor. It was breath-taking.

“So, what’s the story behind THIS car, Jim? Is it yours?”

Jim shook his head slowly...

“Well, it technically belongs to the Sheriff’s department due to forfeiture by a drug dealer. It looks like it’s brand new but I really don’t know. It just looks great though…”

I had to agree there. The car looked flawless.

“What are you going to do with it?” I knew that while Jim wasn’t a huge car nut, he did appreciate nice cars. I thought that perhaps he was going to buy it or something…

“Well, Steve… it isn’t what I am going to do with it – it’s what I need YOU to do with it… if you’re willing. Here’s the plan…”









When I got home shortly before six PM, Kelly wasn’t there yet, apparently having been held up at work again. Her case load had increased lately and her firm was also doing some investigating of its own in the entire Reynolds case. Since there had been a challenge by one of the insurance companies regarding the validity of one of the signatures on a document, a few more eyebrows had been raised so a lot of extra work was coming down for her and her firm.

As I walked by the answering machine, I noticed the light was blinking and the number “4” was illuminated on the LCD. I pressed “Play Messages”.

The metallic voice came on and I listened as I opened the fridge door to see what might be available –

“Message ONE – received Monday, one fourteen PM – ‘Steve? This is Brandon – hey, give me a call, man. We need to talk… call my cell cause I’m going to be out and about…’

Searching through the leftovers, nothing grabbed my eye…

“Message TWO – received Monday, two twenty-one PM – ‘Mr. Morton, this is Dan Sleagle from the Fayette County, Pennsylvania Sheriff’s department – would you give me a call as soon as possible at area code seven two four, five five nine, three three three three? I need to speak with you about an urgent matter. Thank you…’

Suddenly, a snack didn’t seem as important… I continued to listen, mentally recording the phone number (724-559-3333).

“Message THREE – received Monday, four ten PM – ‘Steve? I’m going to be a little late again. I’ll pick up a pizza for dinner and I should be home around six so grab a snack and I’ll see you then. Love ya!”

Ah-ha… no snack needed. If Kel’s timing was right, a hot pizza should be walking through the door any minute… I closed the door and listened to the last message as I reached up on the counter to grab the cordless phone…

“Message FOUR – received Monday, five twenty-seven PM – ‘Mr. Morton, this is Deputy Sleagle once more. I hope you get this message because I do need to talk with you as soon as possible. It’s regarding a letter I received from an insurance company that I believe your wife’s law firm is representing. I have some interesting information for you that I really think you need to know. Call me as soon as you can, no matter the hour… thank you.”

Just as I started dialing Brandon’s number, the doorbell rang. I hit “End” on the phone and walked to the front door.

It was B.

I opened the door and before he was even inside, he was talking very excitedly about something that I couldn’t quite grasp…

“Whoa there, Brandon! Slow down, dude – I can’t understand a word you’re saying, you’re talking so fast! Start over, ok?”

Brandon stopped for just a second, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and then began again.

“Steve, you are NOT going to believe what I just heard down at Anderson’s. Actually, it is what I saw…”

I could tell by Brandon’s wide-eyed look that he wasn’t fooling around.

“Ok… what did you see?”

“I saw Bill Reynolds, two big burly looking guys and – get this – Ned Reynolds.” B was nodding his head affirmatively when he said Ned’s name as if to convey accuracy.

“Brandon, are you sure it wasn’t Nate? Ned’s brother? Remember? We saw him at Tri-County and he even told me he was Ned’s brother – you’ve got to be mistaken.”

Brandon grabbed a Coke from the fridge as he was shaking his head. Twisting off the cap, he turned to face me as he swilled down about a third of the icy soda.

“No, I’m not mistaken at all. It was definitely Ned…”

I couldn’t tell him what Jim had told me just a couple of hours earlier but I had strong feeling that B was right. But still, I had to test him a bit more.

“I don’t know, B… how can you be so darn sure?”

“Because I heard one of the burly dudes call him by name when this guy’s cell phone rang – he said, ‘It’s for you, Ned’ and he called him by name exactly.”

“So? Maybe he just got the name mixed up – Nate looks just like Ned and is his brother, possibly a twin. It still doesn’t mean anything and we all know Ned is dead – remember? The funeral and all?”

Brandon took another drink, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the kitchen table. He smiled that, “I KNOW I’m right and YOU know I’m right but I’m going to make you ask me to prove it” look…

“Just because some goon called Nate ‘Ned’, doesn’t mean he IS Ned…”

“But Steve – why would ‘Nate’ tell this guy to NOT call him that in public; that he and everyone else was supposed to call him ‘Nate’ so no one would find out what happened… on top of that, as soon as this guy said ‘Ned’, your dear friend Bill slugged him hard in the shoulder and gave him a look that could have withered a fig tree… so… what do you think now? Think I’m mistaken?”

I didn’t answer him at first but instead, walked around to the other side of the table, pulled out my own chair and sat down across from him. Reaching into my shirt pocket, I pulled out the pictures Jim had given me copies of earlier.

“Nah, B – I believe you. Here’s why…”

I slid the pics across the heavy oak table. He picked them up and began thumbing through them, stopping to pause at the one of the two guys sitting in the car outside the restaurant. He pointed at one of the men.

“Steve – THIS is the guy who identified Ned today at Andersons. THIS is the guy who Bill slugged and who Ned reminded in no uncertain terms that he was NOT to call him Ned ever again, at least if he didn’t want to wake up wearing cement shoes at the bottom of Lake Erie or something like that… I mean, after all – even I got THAT message… and – that is DEFINITELY Ned in that ambulance… Hey! Why is he in the driver’s seat?”

“I don’t know that answer yet but I’m sure we will soon. Same with the pic of the boat, the warehouse, why Bill was talking to Sasha from the DMV…”(which caused another chill to roll down my spine – there definitely is a creepy connection there) “So – how is it that YOU happened to hear all this and they didn’t realize that you were nearby?”

“Oh, they knew I was there. They just didn’t recognize me. Ned never gave me a glance; he was only busy with Bobby at the counter, spoke a few sentences to Bill under his voice when Bobby was away from the counter, and the little time he talked to the goon. But THAT is definitely the guy…”

“Ok… so, what were they doing there? Did you get any info on that?”

“Well, not at first. But after they left, I asked Bobby what was what and he gave me the skinny… seems that Ned had ordered some parts for a Shelby Mustang and they weren’t in yet… care to guess what he’s waiting on?”

“I really do not have a clue, B… I don’t know that much about those bad boys. What is it he wants?”

“Oh, nothing major… just a new motor is all...”

My head jerked backwards…

“What? A NEW MOTOR? For his Shelby? For Mira’s? For what car? Did you find out?”

“Well, Steve – here’s the best part of all. It isn’t even a replacement 5.4 he’s trying to land. It’s an experimental Hurricane motor that the skunk works boys in Detroit are working on for their new Blue Devil Killer package. It’s a blown 6.2 liter motor that they have running around in a few test mules that has a Whipple 3.3 on it and other secret goodies. Seems that Bill has got connections with someone up there and Bobby told me he put fifteen large down to get his hands on one via his ‘connection’…”

Brandon wasn’t smiling.

“And here’s yet another piece – this motor, IF it comes in time, is going into a Black Shelby GT500. One with white stripes. And I’m betting it’s the car Mira drives. Why? Because Bobby told me that it definitely was for a black GT500… but getting it soon is a problem and the Reynolds boys are pushing Bobby hard to get it in…”

I leaned back in the chair. My god… if they drop in a blown 6.2 in the Shelby – assuming it was even doable – and IF this was Mira’s car - I was going to have a serious, serious problem. With just a few weeks until the race, anything was possible. But since I had already wrangled the Stage motor into the WE4, I didn’t have many tricks up my sleeve with the GN – and I wasn’t about to swap motors yet again.

“What else did Jim tell you, Steve?”

Just as he asked that question, I heard the garage door going up. Kelly was home.

“I’ll tell you in a minute but first, Kelly’s here and she’s got some pizza. I’ll just tell you both at the same time… but I have a question for you…”

“What’s that?” We heard the garage door going back closed and the sound of the solid GTO’s door shutting immediately followed by the sound of Kelly opening the walk-through door into the utility room…

“Steve? I’m home! Hungry? Oh, hi Brandon!”

“Ever seen a TTA?”

“A what?” That was Kelly, giving me a quick smooch on the cheek as she walked by.

“A TTA? It’s a white, ’89 Trans Am with essentially the GN drive train in it – it’s a bad boy.” She nodded her head. Being a resident Poncho fan, Kelly keeps up on what GM’s red-headed stepchild of a motor division does and has done over the years….

She began pulling some plates and napkins from the pantry as I opened the big 18” pizza box, the aroma of fresh baked pizza loaded with pepperoni, sausage, green olives, onions, mushrooms, and double cheese filled the room… close your eyes and you would swear you were in Rome…

“So, Steve – what’s up with this TTA thing?”

“Yeah, Steve… what’s the deal?”

I just smiled… “You’re both not going to believe what I’m about to tell you but let’s eat – I’ll fill you in as WE fill up! Dig in!”

I didn’t have to tell B twice…

“Oh, Kel. I’ve got a couple of strange messages on the phone…”

“From a Dan Sleagle?” She asked over top of the piece of pizza she had just lifted up to her cute little mouth…

I lowered MY pizza from MY gaping mouth…

“How do you know this guy?”

She smiled…

“Because, my love – I am the one who called HIM… you aren’t the ONLY one with some interesting news, you know!”

She smiled and winked… yep, it was going to be an interesting dinner time…

“Ok, here’s the deal on the TTA – then, YOU tell me about this Sleagle call and while I’m calling HIM, Brandon can fill YOU in on what HE learned today…”

Both of them nodded agreement….

“Well, for me, it started when Jim called me at work.”

“Jim? From our Sheriff’s department?”

“Yep, that would be him… here’s what is up…”



******************_________________*************** *********



The next morning, Kelly and I headed across town so she could drop me off at the Sheriff’s department. We went over the phone conversation I had had last night with Sleagle and compared notes during the drive over, still surprised about some of the info he had shared with me/us… In no time, we were pulling into the duty lot and I was out of the car, waving her good bye. There, I walked inside and met Jim at the desk, went back into his office and filled out the necessary forms. In less than a half hour, we both walked out into the garage again, this time with me holding the keys to the TTA as well as a certificate of title. For all intents and purposes, the car was mine.

“Jim – are you SURE this is a good idea? After all, street racing is illegal and Kelly is NOT too keen on this idea… are you sure this is how this needs to go down?”

Jim paused and placed his hand on my shoulder as we stood there in front of the gleaming white F-body. It even SMELLED new…

“Steve, this will work but it needs to be believable. That’s where YOU come in. I assure you – there will be no interference from law enforcement as long as you don’t request it. You know what I need you to do and I know you can do it. You just need THIS car to help you get it done – your car won’t make the trip. Trust me – if this goes as smoothly as it should, by Sunday morning it will be all over, the car will be yours to keep, and you will have helped us immensely… you just HAVE to keep this real and keep it low-key… remember the scenario… just follow our plan and it will work. Ok?”

I stood there looking at the flowing lines of the TTA. This WAS going to be a nice distraction from the whole Reynolds debacle – as long as no one got hurt. But I had to also admit that in street racing, getting hurt WAS a possibility. After all, I had seen Ned wipe out his Shelby right beside me so I KNEW it was a possibility…

Yet, there was that strangely intoxicating feeling of doing something that was on the very, very edge of sanity and reality. If what I was going to do on Saturday was to work, I had to believe in it as much as Jim did.

I opened the door of the TTA after hitting the keyless entry button. Swinging the wide door open, I sat down/fell into the tan (“Saddle”) leather-like vinyl seat and swung my legs in. Leaning back into the bolstering, I felt like I was swept back in time once again… the numerous button controls on the steering wheel center hub looked like a computer panel… the big, meaty transmission shifter in its gray ‘leather’ cover fit nicely in my hand… the wide dash full of instruments that had been converted to white-face gauges, the big 140 mph speedo just left of the steering column almost daring me to turn the LC2 loose just to prove that getting to 140 would be a blast…

“Jim… I think this just might work after all. I gotta admit something here buddy – I am liking THIS car more every minute… I’ll call you Saturday night and let you know how it’s going… ok?”

He smiled, stood up straight, and crossed his arms as I closed the door.

“I’ll wait to hear from you. And Steve…”

“Yeah?”
“Just be careful, ok? Don’t do anything stupid. Nothing is worth getting hurt over, especially this deal…”

I reached down, slid the rectangular key into the ignition, rotated it forward to the ‘Start’ position and the V6 sprang to life…

“I’ll call you Saturday…” The Turbo motor idled fairly smoothly, not giving away any clue that just beneath my right foot was more actual HP and Torque than a Corvette of the same year could only dream about.

He nodded that he understood…

I nodded ok…

And with that silent exchange, I pulled out of the garage via the big open bay door at the south end… into the sunlight and the warmth of another spring day….

I just hoped that I would feel this confident come Saturday… because I still felt like I was about to go swimming with sharks… ones with very, very big teeth.

[enigmadsm]

When I got home with the TTA, the first thing I did was pop the hood and begin an assessment of the car. Looking under the hood at the LC2, it was clearly obvious that this car had a little more ‘oomph’ than it came down the assembly line with… I wondered aloud who installed them and when the mods went on the car…

Jim told me that he didn’t know much about the car other than how his department came to own it. Seems that a local wannabe who thought he was destined to be a big-time drug dealer got a little sloppy, sold some crack to an undercover deputy and then even began regaling the deputy with details that he should have kept to himself. Had the ‘hero’ kept his lips shut, the worst he would have been looking at was possession to sell.

The undercover officer played it cool though – he kept asking the right questions and stroking the guy and he fell for it, even so far as showing the undercover his laptop that he had kept in the rear compartment of the TTA. But because he got stupid and began bragging (while dealing out of this F-body) he ended up and got busted on the spot. The cops did a search, found a whole bunch of evidence not only in the car but at his house (and his greenhouse!) and confronted the guy with his choices – he could turn State’s evidence and give it all up in exchange for a lighter sentence OR he could play stupid and spend a LOT of time cuddled up next to Bubba in a cell in some far-away max-security pen with the tune “Prison Bitch” running through his head...

He wisely chose to take the deal.

All of that led me to the white car I was standing in front of.

The first thing that stood out was the size of the uptake pipe. It was HUGE. Looking down I saw the stock location intercooler was not stock at all – actually, it looked like it might be one of PTE’s monsters but it was hard to tell for sure. Either way, it was not the old stock unit.

The down pipe from the turbo was also much larger than stock. And – the turbo itself was also a monster, looking for sure to be at least a 70mm+ unit. It was also clear that the guy who did the mods spent a lot of money and either he knew what he was doing or he hired it done right – the engine looked like it came from the factory.

Looking deeper, the headers were aftermarket stainless but not coated, the valve covers were nice black powder coated pieces, the doghouse was polished aluminum and of very high quality (at least looking at the welds), and the engine bay itself was spotless.

I then pulled the car around to the bay with the lift and put it up. Getting underneath it, I saw subframe connectors welded in place, the beads of weld looking like artwork. The rear end was not the factory one either – in its place was a GM 12 bolt unit. The rear wasn’t tubbed but the suspension looked like it also had been reworked. I also noted the transmission pan, Differential cover, and drive shaft (with enormous U-joints) were not stock. Plus, a red heavy duty drive shaft loop was bolted in place.

Lowering the car back to the ground, I thought about the mileage shown on the odometer…. 4200. IF that was correct, this was a very valuable car.

I gave Jim a call…

“Wolcott County Sheriff’s department – what is your emergency?”

“Is Jim Forsythe there?”

“One minute please…”

“Sheriff Forsythe speaking…”

“Jim, this is Steve….”

“Hey! How’s it going, Steve?”

“Pretty good, actually. I was just checking the TTA over and it seems that the previous owner – was he the original? – had a lot of performance work done to it. Do you know anything about it or what might have happened to the stock parts?”
“Just a sec…”

Silence… the muffled sound of papers shuffling… the sound of a drawer being opened, more paper rustling…

“Yeah, here it is. Ok… let’s see here… wait…”

More paper shuffling…

“Ok… yes, we do have a bunch of parts that was confiscated from the perp’s – that would be a Mr. Chris Teak’s - garage. Actually, he said that these parts should go with this no matter who had it – he claims it’s one of 24 such TTA’s built like the one you have. Said it was because it had leather but no T-Tops and that was what makes it so special. Anyways, that doesn’t really matter, does it? Hmmm… I know that stuff is in here somewhere… ”

One of twenty-four cars built like this? My interest got really piqued…

“Ah, yes… Mr. Teak is listed as the original buyer. Well, according to our records, his mother bought it with him and then a few years later signed the title over to him with his name only on the slip. So, yes – he’s the original owner…”

“Did he say who did the work or what all he had done to it? The entire car is built to run and a stock TTA is not shabby. I’ve NEVER seen one built to this extent – most guys keep them bone stock or maybe a few minor bolt-ons from what I’ve seen. But THIS car is a sleeper for sure…”

Calling this car a ‘sleeper’ was like calling a Great White shark a ‘fish’ – it was a huge understatement. The white paint, the stock appearing wheels, the stealthy sound of a V6 (but it DOES roar nicely when you get into it) – nothing about this car would indicate on the surface what it was capable of. It actually looked like it would be more at place in a car show than in the heat of battle on the 1320…

“Nah, he didn’t mention it and they’ve already moved him up to Pittsburg to keep him hidden so I can’t ask him anything easily. Do you need this info badly?”

“Well, not really. I’m just wondering about the history. But if you have the stock parts, that’s good enough.”

“Ok… I’ve got to run. If you want, I’ll drop the parts off at your place this evening after shift. I need a good excuse to look at the toys in your garage anyways. Will you be around?”

“Jim – I’ll make sure I am! What time?”

“Oh, say around 5:30 or so?”

“Ok! See ya then…”

*Click*

I hung up the phone. Suddenly, I realized it was raining and that it must have started while I was on the phone… At first, it was a light sprinkle; then, it got heavier and heavier and the clouds got darker and darker. I had to flip on the overheads in the garage where before enough light was coming in from outside. The smell of the early spring rain filled the air and the steady drum beat of the rain sounded soothing and peaceful, in spite of the darkness. Rain always has a way of washing the earth clean and it seemed fitting for the moment… perhaps that was what this very rare TTA needed – a clean start.

Thinking about what sort of ‘life’ this car had led up this point, I felt it was probably a safe bet that, while it was now set up for the quarter mile, in reality it most likely had never been raced. But that was about to change… as I closed the hood of the car and walked around to sit back in the driver’s seat, I began to think about this plan that Jim had proposed to me. To be honest, it seemed pretty far-fetched and even a bit ridiculous to think that it might be successful.

We would know Saturday night.

The plan was actually pretty straightforward in planning – it was the executing (and of course, the details) that would be decide if it was going to be successful.

Jim had two goals that his department hoped would be met. The first one was probably the easiest to accomplish – reel in and catch the two biggest names in the original owner’s drug files.

Those names were none other than Jeremiah and Jonah Reynolds. Sons of the recently departed – and now arisen it seems – Ned Reynolds.

Supposedly, they were high-fliers in Teak’s business. Connections that they had to a big name supplier from Miami were identified but they had yet to be identified with the goods in hand. Their role in the death of their mother had never been identified but they were ‘persons of interest’ in the new investigation that Jim told me about.

But what I had not shared with Kelly or Brandon was who the two ‘goons’ were that were shown in the picture as well as who B had seen with Nate/Ned and Bill down at Anderson Ford.

They were Jonah and Jeremiah. Kelly knew the names from her office’s work but she had never met them so she couldn’t identify them. She was right about one thing she had told me a while back – they were not nice boys who would make a mother proud.

It didn’t explain why Bill was racing the SRT at the track nor did it explain why neither of the twins was even seen at all – until the pictures and the events at the parts counter.

I sat there pondering all this seated in the comfort of the TTA, listening to the rain continuing to fall… I pulled the driver’s door shut and was immediately rewarded with golden silence. Even the weather-stripping was good as new.

What was hopefully going to happen was that I was going to show up at the usual meeting place that Teak always met with the Reynolds boys. His meetings were usually one of three specific purposes. The most common was for Teak to pick up product from one or both of them. A second reason to meet was to update information about drops or particular ‘special pricing’ available if the Reynolds had a particular shipment that needed moved quickly. But the third reason that they would meet was the most interesting…

To simply talk cars and watch the Reynolds boys street race with Teak being one of the lookouts and to listen to the police scanner while the races were going on. According to Teak, he had never raced his car at these races but he was often challenged. He always declined.

I had expressed concern to Jim about being identified by one of the Reynolds, or that perhaps even Bill, Ned, or Mira might be there who would certainly identify me. And with me driving Teak’s car, they would disappear as quickly as they came...

He assured me that neither of them would be there and that they had never been there in the past according to Teak – seems that the ‘business dealings’ of the two boys were something they all allegedly chose to turn their back on. But – Jim was sure they were connected in some fashion. If he was able to nab Jonah or Jeremiah, especially if they were carrying narcotics, he felt that they might roll over on Ned or Bill. And he was SURE that those two fish would be big catches for a variety of reasons – but reasons that he did not share yet. However, I was sure that the insurance investigations, Mr. Sleagle’s phone call, Sasha, Bill, Ned/Nate, Ned’s death and ‘resurrection’, and the drugs were ALL connected in some way.

Time would tell…

Leaning my head back on the seat, I felt tired… my eyes closed easily and I sat there in the silence of the metal, glass and plastic cocoon that the TTA had become. I wondered about the potential of the car – if I COULD use it to lure one of the boys into a street race even though Teak had never agreed to do so; if I COULD convince them I was there on behalf of Teak; if I COULD find out if they did have the stuff that Jim wanted to nail them with…

And I really, REALLY wondered if it was all worth the risk.

The Reynolds were obviously people who did not care who might get hurt in order for them to get what they wanted. IF Bill, Mira, or Ned WERE at the meeting place on Saturday, a LOT could happen that would be disastrous. I didn’t care about the Race Wars deal – I just didn’t want to blow Jim’s plan by doing something stupid. I guess I should have felt comforted that Jim believed I could pull it off.

I just wished that I felt the same way…

************_____________************

The next thing I knew, I heard the sound of knuckles rapping on glass… I opened my eyes to see Kelly looking into the window with a funny look on her face. I opened the door, having not realized I had locked it before…

“Are you ok, Steve? You looked dead!”

“Yeah, I’m fine… just tired…”

She knew that I wasn’t ‘fine’ – but true to form, she didn’t bug me about it.

“Well, maybe if you get a good night’s rest tonight, you’ll feel better tomorrow….”

I slid out of the seat of the TTA, stood up, and closed it’s long, white door. The ‘Ka-CHUNK’ echoed a bit in the garage… We both started walking back toward the walkthrough door…

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right… did you just get home?”

She hooked her arm through mine, walking in stride with me…

“Yep. I actually got out a bit earlier than usual. I’ve been pulling a lot of extra hours so I told Denny I was leaving early today. He actually encouraged me to do so! I thought that was nice of him…”

We stepped on into the utility room and closed the garage door behind us. I saw Kel’s purse and a few Meijer bags on the counter of the kitchen and her coat on the rack….

“Well, I’m glad you’re home!”

“Hey – I’ve got a great idea, Steve. Let’s call Brandon and Stacy and see if they want to go to dinner tonight? What do you think?”

I gave her a big kiss…

“I think that’s a GREAT idea! We haven’t been out with them for a couple of weeks. I've got to wait until Jim stops by though - he's bringing the stock parts off the Trans Am and he said he would be here around 5;30 or so. Hey! What car do you want to take?”

“Hmmm… tough choice, Steve. How about that Firebird?”

“Well, I would love to but we better keep it under wraps until Saturday in case the wrong person would see it. If it’s done raining by the time we go – it’s what, four now? – maybe we can take the black car…”

“Steve – it stopped raining over an hour ago. You WERE asleep, weren’t you?! Oh - and nearly all of your cars are black. Which car do you want to take? We could take the Goat, you know!”

She giggled, knowing she had me dead to rights.

“Ok – then, if the roads are dry, we’re taking the Buick.” I grinned back at her now…

“Steve – you’ve got how many Buicks in those garages, the majority of which are BLACK. WHICH BLACK Buick are we going to take?”

Inspiration struck... immediately, I KNEW the one I wanted to get out... it hadn't 'been out' for some time.

NOW - it was time.

“The one with the bad disposition…. Let’s take the GSX….”

The idea sounded good at the time...










Just as I was about to go upstairs and get a shower, I saw Jim’s truck pull into our drive. I went outside to see what all he had from the TTA while Kelly went on up.

“Hey, Steve. At least the rain’s stopped!”

“Yeah – and I’m glad too. Kel and I are going out for dinner tonight and we’re going to get brave and get out the ‘old car’…” I grinned as I said that, waiting to see if it clicked in Jim’s mind.

“You ARE?”

It had definitely clicked.

“Man! I wish I had time to stick around and check it out or see it run but I’ve got other commitments. Anyways – here’s the stuff from Teak’s garage. I had to bring the truck because I couldn’t get it all in my cruiser’s trunk… check this out…”

We walked around to the back of his big Ford F-350 4x4 and he dropped the tailgate. Tucked in the bed of the truck was an enormous assortment of wax coated, water-resistant boxes. But the boxes were also sealed in large, clear heavy mil plastic bags and tied shut with heavy duty reusable Zip strips. Even the rear axle assembly was wrapped up tight in clear plastic – Teak might be a drug dealer but the guy knows how to protect parts.

We carried the boxes into the far bay of the garage, stacking them in neat piles for easy access. I thanked Jim – after he stole a glance at the old car – and began to unzip the ties to see what all was there. In no time, I was amazed….

Everything that came off the car in its stock form was there – even gaskets. The turbo, turbo shield, intake, doghouse, up and down pipes, drive shaft, U-joints, shocks, intercooler (the TTA used the GNX intercooler, not the standard LC2 unit), suspension pieces including bushings, injectors, fuel pump, fuel filter, cam and lifters (!), the original black-face gauges, air intake assembly, MAF, oil filter, heads (the TTA had different heads than the LC2 that came in the Turbo Buicks – they were modified in the combustion chamber and exhaust ports), exhaust Downpipe, catalytic converter, torque converter, the stainless 3-into-1 headers, – well, you get the idea. EVERY stock piece that came on the car when it was assembled in the Van Nuys, California assembly plant back in the ’89 model year was in the sealed and waterproofed boxes. It might take a little time and effort but this sick TTA could easily be put back to stock. Stock? What is ‘stock’ you ask?

Let me explain a bit… 1989 TTA’s began life as any other 1989 model year Firebird being built in Van Nuys (as you know, the fourth-gen F-bodies were Canadian built). White Firebirds that were originally destined to be GTA’s were picked randomly and instead of getting the GTA-spec 350ci V8 and 700-R4 tranny, they got the killer LC2 V6/200-4R combo with the aforementioned mods. And while the TTA was rated at 250 hp and 340 lb/ft of torque which, like the Turbo Buicks, was severely underrated. Easily capable of low 13’s, these cars could handle as well as they ran straight lines. And the cars stopped as well as they ran – GM pulled the 1LE racing Trans Am’s brakes from the parts bin and installed the 12 inch front rotors and 11.7’s went on the rear. The Corvette’s aluminum dual-piston front calipers and single-piston rear calipers went on to haul the killer Bird to a stop.

Here is what the stock motor of a TTA looks like (all photos courtesy of GMHTP magazine):
The LC2’s were assembled by Performance Automotive Systems in Industry, California and were tweaked some versus the TR’s engines. The heads were slightly different (due to having to clear the F-body’s shock towers) and the TTA engines even had different pistons due to the different heads in order to keep the 8.0:1 compression ratio. Also, the crank was cross-drilled for better lubrication; a feature that the LC2’s in the TR’s did not have.

Here’s an exterior shot of a similar TTA but the one in the garage does not have the Pace Car decals. It’s a gorgeous car…


Here is what the interior of the car looks like but this one does not have the leather seats. Many people have given the F-bodies a lot of flak about the interior quality but as you can see, for a car built in the late ‘80’s, it was a very nice place to do business from!


Here is what the tires/wheels look like on the stock vehicle… equally gorgeous!


As I sat there inventorying and admiring the parts, awash in technological flashback, Kel came out to remind me that we needed to get moving if we were going to meet Brandon and Stacy at the new Tumbleweed Grille that had just opened the week before. I was torn a little – part of me wanted to keep looking at and touching/admiring the stock pieces (man, the headers were works of art!), part of me wanted to hypothesize as to what went into the car (the records for the work had yet to turn up), and part of me wanted to get the TTA and let it loose just to see how it compared to my GN. Oh yeah – and part of me was starving for a good steak so in the end, that was the part that won out.

I headed inside to get the shower I intended to grab almost an hour earlier… my stomach won out over my head.

*********_________**********

As we pulled the garage door shut behind us and walked out into the garage and through the walk through doors, we approached the door into the bay where it had been sitting ever since we had brought it home from Dollar-Bill’s farm. Sure – it had been out of the garage several times; sometimes for a joy ride, sometimes for test&tune clandestine runs in the dark of night, sometimes, just to go prowling about the blacktop jungle to see if anyone knew what the car was. In the state it was in and due to the rarity of the car, we had yet to have anyone come alongside or even pull up at the gas station and ask us about it. I guess for most people, it just looked like any other old 1970 Buick, albeit a shinier one than most you might see. Few noticed the scoop on the hood, few noticed the big spoiler on the rear trunk, and even fewer paid any attention to the golden stripe on the heavily muscled flanks of the beast… oddly, the car almost seemed invisible…

But I also remembered that most predators are like that. You never really ‘see’ them – until it is too late. Same with the Turbo Buicks – most people will look right at them and then right past them, not ‘seeing’ their killer disposition until the only thing. While the standard GSX colors of 1970 were Apollo White or Saturn Yellow, the car in the far end of the garage was black… solid black save for the gold trim stripes. 1971 would offer black as an option for the GSX but officially the 1970 never came in black. Then again, the 1970 models never came like the car we were about to open the door to either…

Kelly and I were always silent when we turned on the lights in Bay 3. I don’t know… maybe we did so out of respect for the rarity of the animal that waited there in the dark. Maybe, it was out of awe, as if we had stumbled back into the Jurassic period and had stepped into a clearing that harbored a killer Tyrannosaurus Rex with blood still dripping from its enormous teeth and mouth, fearing it would devour us next…

It’s just so hard to describe how seeing this car makes you feel… you feel like it’s 1970 all over again, not nearly four decades later. You can hear Led Zeppelin on the radio being played from Wolfman Jack’s turntables high in the sky from his syndicated radio show on a late Friday night… you can see the bell-bottom jeans that the college students were wearing… you can smell the dank odor of Mary Jane at the party you just walked into, knowing that some ‘rebel’ group of potheads were at it again, flipping the bird to society… you can just hear the chants of the anti-war crowd, “Hell, NO – we won’t go!”… you can just see the Huey choppers swinging low over the rice paddies, their .50 caliber guns blazing into the adjoining jungles trying to rid the area of ‘Charlie’… 1970… a time unlike any other in American history… this 1970 Buick Gran Sport GSX, a car unlike any other…

It was a malcontent; a dangerous, unruly, serial killer that was one of one… its only purpose in life was to kill all who might oppose it and who did not get out of its way… it didn’t offer any excuses for its attitude nor did it care if that bothered you… it just did what it had to do when it had to do it and it did it better than any other car that had a GM marking upon it, including the fabled LS6 Chevelle.

The LS6 SS454 Chevelle is no slouch. But if you were to ask the Chevelle how it would feel sharing a garage bay the this dark-souled GSX, it would answer “No” while avoiding making ‘eye-contact’ with the Buick; it knew who was king of the jungle….

Kelly and I stepped into the bay and stood there for a moment, admiring the lure and call of the A-body before us. We knew in our minds that this was simply an assembling of multiple parts made of steel, iron, glass, aluminum, fiberglass, rubber, cloth, plastic, and such, all bolted, screwed, welded, fitted, pressed, tucked, glued, and bonded together by men; men who took enormous pride in what they did and the things they were lucky enough to be part of creating. And like Dollar-Bill, Wendell, and the rest of his team took that pride to a new level – they dared to buck GM’s order to destroy this very prototype because they KNEW it would never be replicated again, at least not from within the walls of a GM building.

So, they saved it and Dollar-Bill was the lucky one to remove the car from the factory under the cover of darkness… darkness… the environment that the GSX was most comfortable in; like the deadly black panther that is invisible in the night, so is this GSX… but unlike the panther, this animal is not without sound.

It is loud. It is rude and unapologetic. It rumbles menacingly and it roars at the slightest provocation. And it will not dare to even consider that there may be an equal upon the face of this earth…

I opened the passenger’s side door for Kelly and she sat down on the big seats, bucked in and placed her purse on the floor in front of the seat, as one might do to secure their valuables before lift-off. I closed her door as she smiled up at me and walked around to my side… the lights overhead reflected deeply from the hood and fenders, almost appearing as if they were deep within the metal somewhere and that the actual reflections were up on the ceilings above me…

Pushing in on the door release button and pulling outward on the pull-handle opened the driver’s door. I sat down on the cool black vinyl seat and slid the key into the ignition. In a blink, I was back in Dollar-Bill’s dusty, hot barn the first time I started this car… I could see the haze of dust in the air, feel the sweat on my brow and trickling down my spine, smell the old/new car smells of plastic, glass and vinyl… the stabbing beams of light that were filtering through openings high above the barn’s floor and bringing some awareness of the enormous size of the hood before me…

Kelly sat quietly, as one might sit in reverence… waiting to be part of a moment that very, very few can ever hope to experience; a moment when history comes to life…

I pressed the garage door opener and watched the door rise, the light of day dwindling now as the evening was setting in…

It was time…

I pulled the door shut, paused for a second, pumped the accelerator pedal a few times and then rotated the key forward smoothly and quickly. As the key passed the ‘Run’ segment, I saw the gauges dance to life as demons may do when the King Demon comes into their midst… and then – the circuit was closed…

Electrical current flowed now from the battery through the wiring, relays and fuses, through the ignition switch, through and to the starter… the starter engaged and began to spin the massive flywheel as enormous amperage was being drawn from the big trunk-mounted battery…

Slowly and forcefully, the crank began to spin… bearing journals gave way as the crank bearings allowed movement… piston rods moved up or down, depending upon their point of the firing order… the hugely lobed cam rotated, opening valves as the gaping maw of the air filters sucked in fresh air… fresh, cooled and filtered air that was now mixed with high-octane fuel by the massive carbs atop the intake, to be compressed at the precise point the piston that was timed to fire reached its maximum compression point and at which a high-energy firing charge was sent down the appropriate spark plug wire to be energized with the heat of the sun itself in order to explode the charge of compressed air/fuel in the combustion chamber…

And when that first explosion occurs, it is as if the devil himself roared… immediately followed by hundreds of explosions all in synchronized order to develop torque and horsepower of unfathomable numbers to most corporate auto execs back in 1970…

I released the key to spring back to its ‘Run’ position… the car rumbled and bellowed… out on the street, a car slowed as it passed the house, most likely its driver thinking that our house was being devoured by a volcano of molten lava and sulfur…

Neither of us spoke… nothing could be said as we listened to Frankenstein come back from the dead… I watched the gauges for a few moments, ensuring that good oil pressure existed - *Check* -, that the fuel pressure was where it needed to be - *Check* -, that the idle speed was right - *Check* -, and that the car was stable. Well, as stable as a socially unacceptable being such as this car might be…

I pulled the light switch out to illuminate the parking lamps. I felt eerily comfortable with the glow of the instruments and I always enjoy seeing the reflecting red light on the back of the garage from the wide tail lights… it always reminds me of the reddish glow in the sky that one might see when approaching a burning town from the distance…
“Ready?”

She just nodded her head and leaned back a little more comfortably…

I revved the engine just a bit to get the idle to fall back from the Fast-Idle position of the carbs… the revs fell back to around 1100 rpm…

I grabbed the big meaty shifter handle and pulled the release latch upward that was located on the bottom side of the horizontal strap, the same shifter being in use in other GM A-bodies such as the Chevelle SS. The linkage felt stiff as always, as if to try and resist (and failing) the attempt to thrust all the torque from the massive V8 upon the drive-train… as the shifter passed from “P” through the ‘dead’ area of the shift linkage and then over the “R”, I felt the car shudder as the power was briefly passed through the tranny’s reverse gears but then released again as “N” was moved over…

And then – there was “D”….

As the shifter settled over the “D”, the car LURCHED as if ready to lunge angrily from the bay and the RPM’s dropped to ~850, but the idle was rough and unruly. Only by forcefully applying the footbrake could I restrain the powerful muscles beneath the hood… and I DO mean forcefully…

The car’s entire stance changes when the transmission is placed in gear. Several hundred lb/ft of torque is not easily constrained… and even with the massive high-stall speed converter, this car will not allow its driver a moment of distraction. To do so is to become a passenger sitting in the driver’s seat because make no mistake – this car will NOT yield its will easily.

I let just the briefest of pressure release from the brake pedal and we were surging out of the garage. The high-lift, long duration cam was loping us out in intermittent surges as power pulsed angrily through the drive line… as the rear end cleared the garage door, I reached up and clicked the door opener to close the garage door.

We were now at the bottom of the drive, the car idling roughly… waiting to for a passing car to go by, I snicked the tranny up into “N”… immediately, the demeanor of the car changed. The RPM’s jumped back up to nearly 1300 and the motor almost seemed to smooth out a bit… to the passersby, the noise might have sounded like I was trying to blow the motor up. But there were still several thousand RPM’s to go before the motor was happily smooth… the people in the Camry that drove by just didn’t know it…

I could feel the soul of Frankenstein stare down the passing Toyota… I knew the Camry did not dare even look our way, it knew it could be dead in less than the flash of a dimmer switch…

“Let’s go, Steve… let’s go for a ride…”

I looked over and the joyful anticipation one has when he or she might be sitting atop that Tyrannosaurus, waiting to be loosed from the chains that had it bound for the briefest of moments was on Kelly’s face. As I released the brake completely and we rolled out into the evening, I saw her smile. She looked delightfully frightened, knowing that she was terrified of the car’s power but grateful as I was to be sitting in its seats…

Few people can appreciate powerful beings that have the ability if not controlled to bring about your own imminent demise.

The GSX we were buckled into and heading into town with is such a being. It is a hybrid, a monster of collected parts, an assortment of war materials, and a being that is always looking for the chance to assert its rightful place at the top of the food chain…

Such is Frankenstein… and the town’s lights glistened and twinkled before us. Kelly, Frankenstein and I were all hungry. Dollar-Bill had named this car Christine - but it just did not feel right. This car was not a woman. It was not a lady.

Hell - it wasn't even a serial killer. Serial killers would run away crying from this monster...

No - THIS car has a new name, one that Kel and I agreed was appropriate.

Its name is also on its plate - FRKNST9

So into to the peaceful village we went, looking for something to eat; something to take the edge off our hunger.

But what I didn’t even know was this - that Frankenstein was the hungriest one of all…










The ride into town was fairly uneventful – well, if you can call trying to keep rein on several hundred lb/ft of torque and Horsepower ‘uneventful’. The GSX just does not like to be kept at bay. About halfway to the restaurant, the sun was low enough that I pulled the big headlight switch out to illuminate the parking lamps. This of course caused the gauges to come alive with an eerie glow. The needles held steady in their normal zones and other than the tach and the speedo, they were fairly constant. But the fight was always there when a stoplight or stop sign came along the way…

The big cam just did not like to let the engine idle smoothly, even with the automatic. The best comparison I can give you is if you have ever been to an NHRA event and heard the Pro-Stocks or even the Fuelers idle up to the line. To call their heavily explosive staccato beat an ‘idle’ is really a misrepresentation – it is more like trying to keep in check a motor that sounds like it simply wants to blow its heads right off the block with the uneven and lopey ‘idle’.

When you approach a stop with the GSX the first thing you notice is the abrupt, almost brutal, downshifts of the transmission. With each successive downshift, the car jerks forcefully and the whine from the heavily cut billet parts and gears almost makes you think the car has a blower on it. There is absolutely no driveline slop whatsoever – the suspension is taut and unyielding and the ride is harsh, almost unbearable on the street.

But this car wasn’t meant or built to be a cushy street car, one that would pamper its riders with silky smooth luxury and quiet, unassuming manners. Far from it – it was built to lay waste on the track and the only reason Frankenstein will allow a passenger is to steer it or to witness the carnage.

So, to take the GSX from the track to the street is like taking the 30mm seven barrel Gatling-gun Cannon from the A-10 Warthog Tank buster to a knife-fight – it doesn’t even belong there. And every time you try to stop the black leviathan from continued forward movement, it reminds you in very un-subtle ways that it does NOT want to stop.

It wants to keep hunting… and killing…

At a stop sign or light, the car is very impatient. The lurching of the drivetrain with each lope of the cam and the rumbling of the mammoth exhaust is enough to make children cry and women turn away. It hurts your ears and it assaults all of your senses… just as what it might feel like to try and sit atop a rodeo bull that has absolutely NO intention of letting you ride just for the fun of it, so does the GSX tell you...

**************

We were sitting at the first major intersection. The GSX sat there grumbling menacingly, the pulsing of the mammoth engine vibrating the air around us as we sat in the far right lane. Traffic was still fairly light for the evening and we watched a couple of small cars dart across the intersection before us….

I noted that from behind a set of ‘cat-eye’ headlights was approaching the light. Suddenly, I saw the headlights swerve as the driver pulled the car over to come abreast of the GSX to our left and as it got closer, I could tell it was a very late model Camaro. As it pulled up to the light, I saw the bulging hood and ducktail spoiler as well as the distinct “SS” logo on the fender in blood red. The car looked like this:



This was an LS1 powered Camaro and a very healthy one at that. I looked over and noted that the driver was a middle aged black man, alone and with a Samuel L. Jackson look about him. Serious. All business.

He revved the SS and gave me a “Wanna go?” look. I revved him back and noted that Kelly cinched her seatbelt a bit tighter…

It looked like it was going to be a very fun evening…

Just then, I saw the tell-tale sign of two white jets of vapor streak skyward from the cowl area of the F-body – he was purging his nitrous system. Hmmm… ok... so here’s the layout…

I’m driving a very unfriendly, drag-strip built mega Buick but one that is over three decades old with no power adders other than enormous compression, big displacement, and a healthy appetite for destruction. In the other lane is a very late model and extremely formidable Camaro with the potent LS1 350 (and it might even be stroked and poked for all I knew at the time) that was obviously spraying. Given the enormous amount of purging he was doing, I had no doubt he was running at least a 100 shot if not more…

So, what else was there to do but to see just what Frankenstein was made of…?

As the Camaro driver began to build a few revs (he was driving a manual) in preparation to launch, I began to preload the torque converter. I watched the rpms come up as I noted the lights beginning to sequence…. No traffic at all… the evening was fairly quiet, at least until we began to loose the power beneath both hoods…

Immediately, the GSX’s demeanor changed. It was as if it sensed blood and it wanted it now… The car strained against the brakes as the torque began to be applied… the engine was no longer roughly idling; it wasn’t smooth but it was the sound you might have heard from Ali as he readied to deal Frazier the final blows after stepping back into the center of the ring with 11 rounds under his belt… powerful and deep…

The light was now yellow in the cross lanes and we were about to go green… I could hear the F-body’s exhaust but just barely over that of the GSX… they were roaring… Kelly’s left hand was now on my thigh as if to steady herself for what she KNEW would be a brutal launch… the rpms on the tack were already over two grand still climbing… I had to press hard on the footbrake as the torque tried to rip the tires loose from the pavement… the haunches of the GSX were now raised slightly as the torque was trying to rotate the rear axle away from the car yet the suspension did not yield…

I was glad I had put on the big Hoosier DR’s at the last minute…. Nearly slicks in about every sense of the word, they were sticky beyond comprehension on dry pavement but absolutely worthless if the dew fell. This would be their first real test…

It was then I saw the Camaro guy get a slight jump on me! He left just a hair early - just BEFORE the light changed - and I was still at the light as I saw his car begin to move, even before we had green…

He had a good half car lead as I sidestepped the brake. It was at THAT precise moment I realized that I had my hands full - just trying to hang on...

As I released the GSX to go into kill mode, a lot of things happened simultaneously. I flattened the accelerator to the floor JUST before I released the brake and this ‘flashed’ the converter up to its stall speed. AS the torque rolled in, the brakes released and the effect was almost as if you dumped a clutch in a stick-car – the Buick’s nose leaped skyward as the Hoosiers bit hard. The mammoth throats of the carbs were wide open and huge volumes of air and high-octane fuel were dumped in near bucket-sized quantities down the intake of the big 455. And at those same nano-seconds, the torque was unleashed in all its furious twisting might…

I felt the front end go light and almost immediately I was dead even with the F-body.. the GSX was already beginning to pass him even before the transmission rammed itself unapologetically into second gear with a vengeful force that would have yanked normal transmissions from their mounts… I could discern some movement of the Camaro as the driver shifted and given what the car was, it was doing very well indeed.

But it wasn’t even close to a match to the GSX.

Before it was into third, the Camaro was almost two car lengths behind and fading…

I watched the Camaro flash his brights acknowledging the loss. I slowed as another intersection was about a half mile ahead so that he could come up even with us. Kelly’s hand still squeezed my thigh but I heard her clearly…

“My god… this car is unreal… I don’t know whether I loved it or am even more terrified. Steve – this is no normal car… not at all… but what a race!”

The SS was now up with me and we were back down to ~45 mph… I looked over and Samuel L. Jackson’s twin was giving me a big thumbs up. I smiled and nodded my head as he roared on away, looking for more evenly matched prey…

I let Frankenstein slow a bit more as I scanned the gauges – all was well and normal. It was as if this run was just a sparring match. A good one, none the less, but really no competition…

“Kelly… that was a pretty cool guy. Did you see him give us the thumbs-up?”

“Yeah… that was nice of him. Obviously, he’s a real car guy… My god, Steve… when this car did the one-two shift, I think I pulled something in my neck… I’ve never ridden in such a brutal car… but I LOVE it!”

Yeah… I had to agree… Frankenstein is definitely a monster… and the SS found out the hard way that the GSX was no one to play with…

“Let’s go get dinner, ok Steve? I’m really hungry now!”

“Sure, Kel… me too…” I looked over at the most beautiful smile in the world. Not many women would ride in such a car, let alone enjoy such a vicious street race as we just had, and be smiling about.

But Kelly is not one of ‘those’ women… she is special. And I’m the lucky guy who is married to her!

We headed on into town and out near the retail area where ‘Restaurant Row’ can be found. The bright lights of all the stores and eateries lit up the evening sky with a gorgeous neon glow that can best be described as inviting. We rumbled on into Tumbleweed’s lot which already looked pretty full but found a place to park in the back that looked well lit.

I let the GSX idle (well, TRY to idle if that’s what you want to call it) for a bit and then shut it down. I could not believe how quiet the world seemed when I rotated the key counter-clockwise to “Off”! When the explosive clatter beneath the hood and out back from the exhaust stopped, it was as if we were sitting in a library!

“I didn’t realize how noisy this car really was… did you?”

“Steve, I didn’t either. But – apparently those guys did…”

I saw her nod towards a group of three guys who looked to be in their early 20’s at best heading our way. As we got out of the car, they were at the nose of it just looking and staring, as if to try and determine exactly what it was they were looking at.

“Say, mister. What IS this car? I’ve NEVER seen one like it – is it one of those old Musclecars?”

“Take a guess… what do you think it is?” I was playing along with them now… these guys obviously had never seen a GSX before in their lives. It was then I noticed a group of 3-4 ricers over on the far side of the parking area we were sitting in, neon aglow beneath all of them, and huge wings (some with two or three levels of wing) on the backs of them.

“It says G-S-X… what does that mean? Does it have naws? Is it pretty fast?”

I was trying to tell if they were being cocky or just asking honest questions. So, I gave them the benefit of the doubt.

“Boys, this is a Buick from 1970. No, it doesn’t run nitrous – or ‘naws’ as you call it. It’s all motor. And it’s pretty brutal… did you hear it when we pulled in?”

“Did we HEAR it? Dude – we FELT it! This car is bad-ASS! I wouldn’t race this car even if I had a Lambo! Actually, bro, I’m almost afraid just to look at it. It looks SICK…”

Ok… these were modern muscle fans…

“Can you show us the motor?”

“Sure. Hang on…” I walked around front and popped the hood and put the newly installed hood prop to use. No more stick of wood as Dollar-Bill liked to use.

As the massive motor came into view, at least two of the guys whistled…

“Man – look at that INTAKE! Are those carbs, man?”

It’s funny how you don’t really realize how little today’s youth knows about the Musclecar era until you get a chance to talk with them. I found out that this was the first time that two of them had even seen a carb – and NONE of them had ever seen a multiple carb set-up.

They were leaning over the fenders and almost drooling as they took in the sights and smells of the big 455. I knew how they felt – I felt the same way as Kel and I stood in Dollar-Bill’s dusty barn that hot summer afternoon and looked down into the engine bay with the same wide-eyed wonderment these guys had…

“How much smoke?”

“I really don’t know… but I CAN tell you this. We just raced a very stout Camaro SS on the other side of town that was spraying and this car ate him alive…”

“Was it a black SS? With a black guy driving it?” This was asked by the third guy who had up to this point been silent.

“Actually, it was. He was cool too. He gave us a thumbs-up even though he lost pretty badly…’

“Day-UM, dude. That car’s wicked. I know him – he’s Irvin Wallace and I’ve heard that that car runs 10’s on the spray. And you ate him up?”

Kelly spoke.

“I’ll just say that we won and leave it at that… yes; he lost.”

They murmured back and forth a bit before the center guy spoke.

“Do you know Shawn Davis? He’s got one of the baddest street cars we know of… ever race him?”

I had to think for a minute. It took a second but the light went on. Yes; Shawn… a big Mopar fan. I had heard of him but he didn’t live in Barstow so I never really ran into him. But supposedly, he has a pretty healthy Hemi-powered something…

“Doesn’t he have a Mopar?”

“Yep. That’s him alright… he drives a twisted orange ‘Cuda with a set of black skull and crossbones on its fenders. The car looks stock – except for the big meats out back - but isn’t. I would love to see him run this car – that would be a good race to see…

That comment drew some deriding remarks from the other two guys as well as from a couple of others that had just walked up to see what the fuss was all about… just like in the movies – whenever a monster is on the streets, people can’t help but come out to look at it even though they should stay indoors….

“I’m tellin’ you, man… you need to race this Shawn guy…. That would be a GOOD race… he comes around here every so often… he had another buddy who had a wicked white Trans Am but we haven’t seen him around for a while… but Shawn, man – he might just stop by anytime… you just never know…”

I closed the hood back down and made sure the car was locked as the crowd moved slowly around the GSX, admiring it at each turn…

“Tell you what, guys... If this Shawn guy shows up while we’re inside eating, tell him to wait for me. I would like to see what he’s driving… ok?”

“Sure will, mister... that’s dope, alright… man, this car is TIGHT!”

Kelly and I headed on into the restaurant, grinning and almost chuckling to ourselves about the way the youth of today talks…

Just as we got to the door of the restaurant, I heard a rumbling sound coming from the street out front as a built car slowed and then sounded like it was pulling into the parking lot… As I held the door open for Kelly to walk on in, I happened to glance back outside just in time to see…

An orange ’70 Cuda. It’s idle sounded nearly as rough and evil as Frankenstein’s… the glass in the door shook as it rolled by the building and I felt the pulses of the exhaust gases in my chest… it felt GOOD… the windows were tinted black and you could not begin to see inside but I did see one prominent feature.

It had a black skull and crossbones on its front fender….

Maybe we would get to eat… or then again, maybe not…







Although my first reaction was to go back outside, Kelly grabbed my arm and whisked me on into the restaurant.

“You’ve got enough time to eat, don’t you Hon? He’ll still be there when we’re done, I’m sure. If those other guys tell him about the Buick, I have no doubt that he might come in to find YOU! Ha-ha-ha!”

She was right – as she usually is. And, like me, she had to be staring too so I was glad we went on in. It WAS time to eat…

Just after our salads were delivered I happened to notice out of the corner of my eye that some people were standing up near the Hostess’s podium and seemed to be looking our way. I turned to look directly at them and saw that it was indeed 4 guys – three of which were the ones from the parking lot. For some uneasy reason, the bigger guy next to them seemed to be familiar but I just couldn’t place him…

But, they were all grinning and waving at us, trying to get our attention. So, I waved them to come on over to our table figuring that if I didn’t they would just continue to make fools of themselves at the podium. OF course, Kelly just rolled her eyes as she began digging into her raspberry/walnut salad but I knew that she understood. She watched them walk on over to our table as she buttered a fresh-cut slice of brown bread, the first of which she gave to me.

“So, what’s up guys? More questions about the black car?”

“Man, we never got your name but this guy here is the one with the ‘Cuda we were tellin’ you about… This is Shawn…”

The big guy stepped forward and offered his hand to shake. Just then, I recognized him as I stood up to shake his hand...

It was the guy from the pictures I had seen in Jim’s office not that long ago and that had been sitting in the 300C in one of the pics. He was the driver in that photo…

Hmm… now the comment earlier out in the parking lot about a guy with a white Trans Am seemed to set off a light bulb in my head too. Could this guy be connected in some way to Teak? To the investigation Jim talked to me about? IF that was the case, me showing up with the white TTA and running into this guy might be a HUGE issue… I needed to talk to Jim before Saturday but now wasn’t the time – Shawn was shaking my hand and smiling like he was my old buddy.

“Nice to meet you, Shawn – I’m Steve and this is my wife Kelly.”

I noticed that Kelly had stopped eating and was looking at the group near our table with an odd look on her face but she stood up to shake Shawn’s hand as well since he had extended it towards her.

“Nice to meet you too, Steve. These clowns here are Morty, Billy, and the quiet one is Cy – but really, he’s the brains of the bunch. They like those little rice-mobiles but not me – nor you obviously! I’m into muscle – real, honest-to-god American muscle. And when Cy started telling me that I had to see your car RIGHT NOW before I could even get out of mine, I knew it must be something… well, it is. How about you meeting us outside after dinner? I would love to know more about your car…”

He grinned just then and it reminded me of how a shark would look IF it could grin. My comfort level with this guy was dropping faster than Bill Clinton’s trousers.

“No prob, Shawn. Kelly and I will meet you out there. If we had more room at this table I would invite you to join – “

He waved a big meaty hand in the air and shook his head vigorously, while the three Amigos did the same.

“Nah, Steve! We don’t want to interrupt. Go ahead and finish your meal and we’ll be out there. And if you need to scoot on out after eating, that’s cool too. I’ll be around and I’m sure I’ll run into you sometime so don’t sweat it, ok? If we’re still here when you come out, fine – we’ll talk cars then. See ya later!”

And with that, they spun on their collective heels and headed back out. Kelly leaned over towards me…

“Do you have any idea who that guy is, Steve?”

“Well, other than who he says he is, no. But – I’ve also seen his picture and I’m pretty sure he’s tied in with the guy who had the TTA as well as with the Reynolds bunch but I’m not sure. Why? Do you know him from somewhere?”

“I sure do. And his name isn’t Shawn – at far as I know….”

Kelly placed her fork on her dinner plate and looked at me with a serious expression.

“He was in my office before with a guy who was supposed to be his brother.”

“Brother? Who are you talking about?”

“Steve – that guy’s name is Jonah. Jonah Reynolds. And his brother is Jeremiah. Remember? They were in my office months ago and I never forget a face. And now that I think about, I think they are in the crowd in that one pic you’ve got inside a warehouse somewhere – it just came to me!”

Hmmm… so if this WAS Jonah, why the bogus name? And what was his connection to Teak? To the warehouse? Obviously, this whole Reynolds thing was getting deeper by the day…

“I don’t know hon but let’s play this out and see what we learn tonight. I’m going to call Jim tomorrow and tell him about this – it’s possible that we may have to change something quickly and he needs to know that this guy has ID’d me already. If ‘Shawn’ is into something deep, I can’t show up with Teak’s car and think he won’t be incredibly suspicious…”

Kelly’s face looked more than just a little worried. We continued to nibble at our food, our minds now severely distracted…

“I don’t know Steve. This is getting weirder by the day. Maybe you better just back away?”

I thought for a moment before I answered. Did I want to fold now, knowing what I know? What would happen if I did? I mean, after all – I could just give the TTA back to Jim, turn over the stolen SRT-8 and walk away. Nothing would change in my life. But then again, I had the sneaking suspicion that I was already in too far to walk away. This whole thing was connected in some way; I just knew it. And, I knew that Kelly did too…

“I can’t back out now, Kel… I’ll talk to Jim tomorrow and see what he thinks we should do but really, the first thing we need is some information for ourselves…”

“And how do we get that, Mr. Holmes?” Her eyes sparkled just bit – that’s another thing about my girl; she loves a good mystery.

“Why, we simply ask!”

She laughed at that one.

“Now, Steve – how can you ask this Shawn guy if he’s Jonah?”

“I don’t plan to nor do I need to; you said he’s Jonah, that’s enough for me. We really just need to know what HE knows. And who knows? Maybe he’s got some loose lips… let’s go on out there and see where the bench-racing starts and where the B/S stops… we just might get lucky since this guy doesn’t know what I know.”

She nodded her head.

“I knew I married you for the right reasons. Ok, Captain America – let’s go see what we see…”

“Check, please?”

***********________________*************
As we walked out the restaurant’s door, we could see ‘Shawn’ and several other men as well as a couple of young women standing in a crowd near the “Cuda.

“Looks like the ranks have grown, Steve. Should be interesting…”

Just then, Shawn spied us and waved for us to come on over which we did. After all, he WAS driving an orange Cuda that obviously was a serious player and with us being car-people, we couldn’t help ourselves but to go give it a good look-see.

As we needed the gang, we could hear some heavy music playing from one of the car’s sound systems. Since the ‘Cuda was parked near the ricer’s (a Honda Civic Si, an Eclipse with no badging, and an STi), it was hard to tell who’s car was playing the tunes. But as the crowd sort of ‘parted’ to let us get closer to the ‘Cuda, it was obvious that the Honda had the killer CD player – it was almost bouncing with each thump of the subwoofer.

Shawn swept his arm over the hood of the Mopar.

“This here is my current ride, Steve. She’s just a little more than stock…”

There was that Great White grin again… so, it was clear ol’ Shawn liked to bluff….

“Nice, Shawn. Is that Vitamin C Orange?” I do know a thing or two about Mopars…

“Yep. It’s a ’70 and it originally had a 440 in it. I took that out and put THIS into it…”

He had walked around to the front of the car and was lifting the hood… As the mill came into view, I knew it clearly was NOT a 440. The distinctive black valve covers with “Mopar Performance” upon them was the first clue – the second one was the ENORMOUS size of the motor. Here is what it looked like (but imagine it in the car)…



“That’s a 528 Hemi, isn’t it Shawn?” I had to fight the urge to call him Jonah…

“Well, it USED to be a 528, Steve. I think it’s a little bigger now, but I guess I’m just not sure. Ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”

“So – how does it run, Shawn? Should be killer, I’m guessing…”

Kelly was leaning over the fender admiring the huge elephant nestled in the bay….

“Steve, I haven’t had it to a track actually. But I will say this – I haven’t been beaten on the street yet. I did run into a nasty black Road Runner a while back that gave me a good race but I did beat him by a half a car length….”

Hmmm… I wondered if he was talking about the black R/R we saw at Tri-County… Didn’t matter – this 528+ ‘Cuda was interesting.

“Enough about my little Mopar, Steve – show me that black Buick you’re driving. Mort tells me that he thinks it would take me – do you?”

Yet another toothy grin… it was obvious that, while MORT might think the Buick would take the ‘Cuda, Shawn/Jonah did NOT.

“Oh, I don’t know Shawn… I’m sure it would be a good race…”

We were near the GSX at this point. I unlocked the doors and then opened the hood. Immediately, the throng was pressing close, trying to get a look into the gargantuan engine bay that held a one-off mountain nail-head that most likely NONE of them knew a thing about…

Shawn and the three Amigos just looked the 455 in silence…

“Steve – that intake is a piece of art. What IS this thing? I noticed that the hood is fiberglass and it has a scoop on it – Stage GS’s didn’t come like that that I’ve seen…. What IS this thing?”

No matter what kind of person Shawn may prove out to be, it was clear he DID know a thing or two about old Muscle. But I wasn’t going to tip my hand, just yet anyways…

“Actually Shawn, this is a project a buddy of mine started and I just picked up. It’s an assortment of parts like most of our toys are, that’s all…”

But Cy wasn’t going to keep quiet.

“Shawn – he said he raced Irv earlier and he beat him. You know Irv’s car; it ain’t no slouch. IF this Buick took that SS, this car is more than it appears…”

Shawn looked at me, his grin gone.

“Is that right, Steve? You beat Wallace tonight?”

A voice came from out of the crowd.

“He sure did. He killed me easily…”

We all turned to look – it was a tall, older black guy. Irvin Wallace was in the flesh and was walking towards us.

“Irv! Where’s the Camaro? Did this guy really beat you or did you just let off, trying to bait him for some serious moolah?”

Irv’s serious look said it all.

“Shawn? This black car left me like I was in Park – and I even jumped the light a bit out of excitement. Sorry about that, dude…” He nodded his head at me… “Anyways; YES. He beat me. And I ain’t askin’ for rematch… there’s no need to… and I’ve parked the SS for the night – I just ran down here to get some takeout and saw the crowd…”

A few people murmured something about it being hard to believe. So – Irv’s SS was a good baptism of fire after all…

“Da-yum, Irv. That’s amazing…”

Shawn turned towards me.

“Steve, how would you feel about a little street racing sometime?”

Kelly stepped closer to me. Irv was looking Frankenstein over…

“Ah, Shawn… I don’t know. I just happened to run up against Irv here by chance. I gotta tell you that I’m not usually into that as much as I used to be…” Ok, SOME of that was true… I wanted to see where he would go with it.

“Well, Steve, I’m not talking about out on public roads. Every so often, I check into an organized street racing event that goes on in rolling locations around here, late at night. You know – just to keep the cops wondering when and where we are. I don’t usually get over this way that often but it just so happens there’s one coming up this Saturday night. Would you be interested?”

“This Saturday?“

Ok, this was getting interesting. How could I bring the GSX to the same place I was supposed to bring the TTA??? Then – another light went on…

“Shawn – do you know anything about a white Trans Am that supposedly went to some street races around here a while back?”

I saw a funny look on his face just as I said ‘white T/A’…

“I knew a guy who had one – a TTA, maybe? - but supposedly he sold it. It was pretty quick I heard but I never got to race him. Well, I don’t think he raced much anyways – but people said it was built. Why?”

Ok – my path was clear so far…

“Oh, nothing really. But I did just pick up a TTA that sounds like the one you’re talking about. What was the owner’s name of the one you’re describing?”

He scratched his chin as he thought for a moment…

“Teak? I’m not sure… I never met the guy and like I said, I heard he got in some trouble so he had to sell the car… why?”

His mouth was saying one thing but his eyes and face were saying something else. I wasn’t buying all he was selling because it seemed that he might know more than he was letting on…

“Because I just picked up a TTA from a guy who said he got it from some guy named Teak but he couldn’t keep it for some reason…” Ok, I wasn’t exactly lying….

“Like I said; formally, I never met Teak, Steve. But I know some people who saw him at the races a lot but I never seemed to cross paths with him… so… you’ve got his old car, huh?”

I hoped that the limb I was climbing further and further out on wouldn’t suddenly break off.

“Yeah. It’s pretty quick but I don’t’ think it’s quite as fast as this GSX. But who knows…?”

“Well – why don’t you bring one of them Saturday? We’ll be out at the abandoned airport this weekend, usually meeting around midnight. I would like to see you bring the GSX myself because I would love to race it. But then again, there might be some people who would like to see the TTA. Well, see it race, of course…”

Ok. That last comment said something for sure…

“Tell you what, Shawn. I’ve got a buddy that I might be able to talk into coming with me. Maybe I’ll bring both cars. Is this out at the airport on Baty road, you’re talking about?”

“Both cars, huh? Cool… Uh... yeah… Baty road… on the east side just south of the Christian TV station’s land… yeah… bring both of them. That would be fun…”

With that, Shawn shoved his hand out to shake hands again.

“Nice meeting you Steve, Kelly. Hope to see you Saturday… let’s go guys. I’ve got to head back home…”

As quickly as they walked over, they left. Kelly and I stood there and listened to the cars start up after the doors slammed. Most of them sounded pretty good but when Shawn started up the ‘Cuda, the rest sounded like they were shut off. I hated to admit it but the 528 sounded good.

“Man, Kel… this is thick…”

“Yeah, I think so too. Talk to Jim tomorrow and go from there… I’m tired… can we go home now?”

I gave her a quick hug as I pulled her close. The sky was dark now and the stars were gorgeous. The sounds of the night traffic were picking up but still we could hear Shawn’s Cuda running through the gears as he left…

“Sure, Kel. Let’s head home…”

We got into the car and after I started it, letting Frankie smooth a bit, I wondered what Jim would think about the night’s events, about this ‘Shawn’ guy, and more. And the TTA thing – how would that play out?

I snicked the tranny into “D” and we began to pull out of the lot…

It should be an interesting call to Jim… very interesting indeed…





The next morning I gave Jim a call as soon as I got free. After going through the switchboard at the station, waiting to be switched to Jim’s desk and then listening to it ring a time or two, he finally picked up following a brief pause…

“Sheriff Forsythe here – can I help you?”

“Jim, this is Steve. Have you got a minute?”

“Sure, Steve – but just a minute. Would you rather stop down?”

“Nah, I don’t have time today. Tell me what you know about a guy going by Shawn that my wife says is really Jonah Reynolds, well, at least that is what I think his name is… Ring a bell?”

“Hmmm… isn’t he the guy with the brother named Jeremiah?”

“Yes. And, I looked at the pics you gave me? He’s in two of them… does that mean anything?”

“Well, Steve, to be honest – I don’t know. We’ve got nothing on the Reynolds boys that I am aware of other than suspicions. But that’s all – I know of their names but I’ve never had a run-in with them. You say they’re in the pics, huh?”

“Yeah. You know the pic of the two guys sitting in the Chrysler? This Jonah is one of them. The other guy I’m not sure about but I think that pic of those guys in the warehouse has him off to the side – I’m just not sure… But here’s the funny thing. Kel and I were at dinner last night and we ran into this Jonah dude – only he doesn’t introduce himself as Jonah – he says his name is ‘Shawn’. Seems like a nice guy and all but I’m pretty sure he’s definitely hiding something. Anyways, he’s invited me – if invited is the way to say it – to come out to the very races you want me to go to but now we know where they will be. Oh – and he definitely knows about the TTA.”

“He knows about the TTA?” I could hear the interest level in Jim’s voice jump about 50%...

“Yep, but he thinks I only bought it from a guy who Teak sold it to – IF he’s telling the truth. He could be fishing too, I just don’t know. But either way, the races this weekend will be at the old County Airport site on Baty Road… sometime around midnight or so…”

“Ah… the old airport, huh? We’ve had tips and even some complaints about people racing out there but we’ve always just missed them. Midnight? Ok, we’ll be ready – but it isn’t the street racers we’re after, remember? Did this Shawn mention anyone else’s name or names?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, he did. He named three guys who were with him at the center of the crowd. A Morty, some guy named Billy, and… uh… let me think a moment… the name was weird in a way…”

“Was it Cy” Jim asked, his voice suddenly a little cold.

“That’s it, Jim! Cy! Why? Do you know these guys?”

“Steve, Cy is dangerous. He’s the guy we’re most interested in and is really the brains behind the entire operation we’ve connected Teak and his TTA to although it is MUCH deeper than Teak OR his car. We WANT Cy… badly. How did he act around Shawn, er, Jonah?”

“Well, to be honest Jim…. I would have said that Cy was just a hanger-on sort of guy. He didn’t say much at all, really. But come to think of it, he WAS the one who insisted that Shawn come inside and look me up at the restaurant… does this mean anything?”

“Ok, Steve… here’s what we’re trying to break down. Cy is the connection between a suspected drug smuggling/stolen cars for export business we’ve been trying to bust for over a year. Jonah – or Shawn – is probably Cy’s main muscle but we don’t have proof. The people who run this entire business are actually based out of Cleveland but they are GOOD…. What seems to be the case is that either the cars are flat out stolen or just come up missing – including one GNX that was stolen IN its trailer as well as its tow vehicle, a late model Ford Powerstroke. The thing is the cars never ever turn up… not at a chop shop, not in parts, nowhere. Yet, we’ve had reports that some of the cars ‘lost’ street racing disappear too. So, we’re pretty sure they are going out of the country on the same ship or ship that is bringing in a lot of drugs from South America and the Far East…”

I had to pause for a minute… this was WAY deeper than I even dreamed it might be. My guess up to this point was that Jim wanted to bust a car-thief ring. But now – drugs? Stolen cars going overseas?

Jim seemed to pick up on my brief silence…

“Steve, that is why I said the other day that maybe we better close this down. The Reynolds family issues are one thing – this Cy guy, now that you’ve positively linked him by name – is quite another. Tell me – was he driving a black STi last night?”

There was definitely a black Sti there that night…

“I saw one in the crowd last night… probably his?”

“Did it have red rims on it?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. I did notice that it had red spoke rims on it with polished wheel lips…”

“That is definitely Cy’s main ride. That car is stolen too – we’ve just never been able to catch up to it, much less with Cy in it but we know who’s behind it…

Steve, listen to me… Cy – and most likely everyone connected with him – are heavy-hitters. We would love to bust him on some silly street racing charge just to get him off the street to squeeze him a little bit because so far, we can’t bust him on the big stuff. Hell, we can’t even get him for a parking ticket – the guy is just squeaky clean for some reason. We suspect he might even have connections inside law enforcement but we just do not know for sure. I’m hoping that if we CAN pick him up on a legit charge – street-racing or double parking – that we can make him sweat a little. Why? Because nervous criminals make big mistakes they would not normally make if they are thinking they are safe… do you think he will definitely be there Saturday?”

“I don’t know but from what I saw of the way he, Mort, Billy, and Shawn seemed to be rolling together, I would bet that they ALL will be there…”

“Ok… then if you don’t mind, let’s let this play out. I’m going to put some gear on you to help us hear/see what happens that night at the airport. We’ll be less than 30 seconds away but make no mistake, this has a seriously big potential of going bad if Cy gets a clue he’s in a trap. Are you SURE you are up for this?”

I thought for just a moment… I thought about what was right, what wasn’t, and what I really, really wanted to do…

“Yes. Yes, Jim… I want to help. And, I would really like to race that Cuda too so let’s see what happens… plus, if I get to keep the TTA, it’s even better yet!”

I heard Jim chuckle a bit on the TTA remark…

“Ok, Steve… it’s on then. We’ll hook up with you Saturday afternoon to get the surveillance gear on you and your car – you are taking which car, by the way?”

“Actually, Jim… I’m going to take the TTA and the GSX. I just talked to Brandon and he’s going with me too but maybe I had better give him a chance to back out given the danger level here…” It was more of a question to Jim than a random thought…”

“Steve, I think we’ll be fine. There IS a risk but I think your pal will be ok. Just keep him away from Cy and his pals if you can when we give the signal we’re coming in, ok? That way he’ll be out of harms way. Same goes for you and Kelly too, if she’s there… when we come in, move aside FAST, clear? And remember, this ‘bust’ is only going to look like we’re trying to snuff out this clandestine street racing – we do NOT want anyone to think there is more to it than what it is… we need more info and to do that, we need to get a few people to talk, know what I mean?”

“I gotcha Jim… I’ll see you Saturday then and we’ll get this done… Hey…. I wonder if the rest of the Reynolds clan will be there that night…”

Jim chuckled a little bit.

“Cy IS a Reynolds, Steve. That is his name – Cyril T. Reynolds the Third. I don’t know for sure what his relationship is to Bill and Ned but I do know that his REAL last name is definitely ‘Reynolds’… Seems the apples never fall far from the tree, do they Steve?”

“Man, you’ve got that one right, Jim. I’ll see you Saturday..”

“See you then, Steve. Take care, ok? This is going to work… so try to not worry about it.”

*CLICK” He hung up….

Funny isn’t it? It’s funny when someone says, “Don’t worry about it”, that that is EXACTLY the time you begin to worry the most….


*********************__________________*********** ***********

When I hung up, Kelly’s sleepy face looked just like I felt inside – concerned.

“What did he say, Steve?”

I reiterated all that Jim said and she just listened intently. Finally, when I told her how it was supposed to go, she just nodded her head.

“Steve… these Reynolds guys are bad news. If we can get them off the street without anyone getting hurt – and I know Jim will look out for us – let’s do all we can, ok?”

Wow! Just when I thought that Kelly might become a little more conservative, she goes and does an end-around and pulls out the trumpets to sound “Charge!”

“So, we just wait until Saturday night then, Steve?”

“Yes… unless something else comes along, Brandon is supposed to come over here around 10 or so and we’ll get the cars out. I think he’s bringing someone with him but I don’t know if it’s going to be Stacy or one of his Mustang Club buddies. Either way, he’s going to help us get the cars there and he’s also going to bring his own from what he said there earlier… I guess you’ll never get the street racer out of THAT guy!”

Kelly just sat there at the table, her chin in her hand as she smiled up at me….

“I don’t know Kel… time is going to drag now that we know what is coming Saturday…” I had to admit it – I was a little nervous but at the same time, a LOT excited. I just knew I would have a hard time being patient.

It was then that Kelly read my mind – again….

“You know Steve… I know something we could do to pass the time a little bit… at least for this morning…”

She grinned evilly – my favorite grin of hers I must admit.

She stood up and began to unbutton the top buttons on her night shirt, revealing some of her ample cleavage that swayed freely beneath the soft cotton garment as she walked towards me… She reached up and put her arms around my neck and began to kiss me deeply and passionately, pushing herself into me at the same time, knowing EXACTLY what I like… in a blink, I had forgotten all about racing, about Cy, about Shawn, about it all…

She finished the very wet, very deep kiss and then pulled back a bit to look me deeply in my eyes…

“Let’s go see if I made the bed, whadayasay Cowboy?”

“Cowboy”…. Ok, now there DEFINITELY was no mistaking what she had in mind - as if her kiss left any doubt.

“You got it, Kel… Sounds good to me…”

She twirled on her heels and I watched her walk ahead of me back down the hall toward our master bedroom, admiring the quick occasional glimpse of her naked shapely ass as the shirt bounced around… It looked like I might be late for work – again…







TO BE CONTINUED…….I’ll post up more as the guy posts them on turbobuicks.com

[Type - O]

holy dear god dude.

[enigmadsm]

lolol i know...its a long read...i know theres gotta be SOMEONE who is completely boerd at work one day that will start reading it though lol


ask 2000ctr...its a good ass story

[enigma94]

HOLY SHIT MAN. What are you writing a book?

[rushbuster70]

Can we get cliff notes on that please?

[jägermeister]

i doubt anyone will sit through all that lol

[Rufus]

Holf fuck I just TRIED to read that on my MDA. I stopped after the 754543566th line

[honduh_head]

haha...this is really badass story and it goes waaaay faster than you would think

[rushbuster70]

haha...this is really badass story and it goes waaaay faster than you would think

Give notes then man...

[dougvtect]

I got to the part about Brandon, and how he is such a nice guy who loves FORDS.

Too long for me.:blunt:

[Asthmatic]

Longest post ... ever. Ill read it when im bored at 2 a.m. lol

[stillfading99]

piitb.

[bukEk]

real long.. ill finish later..haha..

[Tweeder]

didnt even read it.... just scrolled through it and it STILL took forever!!!!!

has this been published yet?

[JDMitation]

can a nigga get sum cliffz plz?

[eviilboy]

Holy shit.. I started reading at 1ish.. and it's 5 now..


HURRY UP AND GET THE REST OF THE STORY. ;)

I'm especially interested in that GSX.... sounds like a fucking monster.

[dr@ke]

i got three word about the story

FUCK THAT SHIT

[enigmadsm]

if you dont wanna read it, don't post anything about it...the story is long enough, we don't need this thread filled with spam too.

how did you like it evilboy???

[StateOfMind]

ok I got to the part where he buys the car from dollar bill and then said fuck it and scrolled down to find out thats only half way!!
I need like a summary from someone.

[imm0rtal]

That story is fucking badass! My grandfather on my dad's side I think used to race a GNX...thing was a monster! I really have got to get me one, but in the meantime I can't wait for you to post the rest of this :thumbup:

Too bad they had to end the story so far on the note of Kelly's shapely ass >_>

[sssmokin05si]

HOLY! I will have to read this one drunken night in the near future.

[94EXCIVIC]

before i read it i want to know what its about?

[eviilboy]

if you dont wanna read it, don't post anything about it...the story is long enough, we don't need this thread filled with spam too.

how did you like it evilboy???



I spent 4 hours reading it today. ;)

Hurry up and post the rest!

[94EXCIVIC]

I spent 4 hours reading it today. ;)

Hurry up and post the rest!

wats it about?

[bryans_k20]

Way too long for me to read, I mean I am pretty sure I have some form of ADD. So I would forget and not even remember what I read 10mins into it, and it should take me a lot longer than that to read this.

[imm0rtal]

Way too long for me to read, I mean I am pretty sure I have some form of ADD. So I would forget and not even remember what I read 10mins into it, and it should take me a lot longer than that to read this.
Dude, I have the most severe ADD I know of and this story kept me hooked. Do yourself a favor and give it a read. Not only does it have some nice old-school muscle cars, but the plot is actually really good :P

[FUK JDM]

:lame:

[EPthree04]

do you have a file that we can download and print up? i cant read for that long on a computer screen!

[imm0rtal]

do you have a file that we can download and print up? i cant read for that long on a computer screen!Just copy and paste it d00d...it's worth the read they just need to post the rest already! They left off at the gratuitous sex scene :blunt:

[enigmadsm]

sorry i dont have a file....but as immortal said, you can copy and paste. then print

its about 120pages in microsoft word

[enigmadsm]

It Was One of Those Days - Pt XXIX

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday morning broke out as one of those text-book spring days – warm, no wind, and getting warmer each minute the bright sun rose higher in the blue, cloudless sky. After breakfast, I ran down to the local parts store and picked up a new set of plugs for each of the Buicks, not intending to change all of them out but I ended up doing so anyways. Seems once I get started on a project like that, I just want to keep going… sound familiar? I got the plugs changed, checked all the numbers on the TPS and so forth with the multimeter on the WE4 (even though we weren’t going to take it) as well as the TTA. Not surprisingly, everything was where it was supposed to be. They were ready other than some wax/detailing but that would have to wait – we were getting hungry.

Anyhow, before I knew it, it was lunch time. Kel and I ran down to a local eatery in her GTO and then stopped by Brandon’s house to see if he was still planning on going. After a brief conversation in his driveway while he was waxing his Shelby with Stacy elbow deep in the project with him, we headed back home. We immediately got to work doing a final detail on the TTA – and on the GSX.

Kelly and I had talked a lot during the week about what all this might mean, especially what was supposed to happen at the street race tonight. We debated about what car/cars to take and ended up deciding we were just going to go heads up with what we wanted to run. She wasn’t going to run her GTO and since the actual goal of the night was helping Jim catch a bad-guy or two, we just wanted to try and have some fun. So, in the end taking the GSX won out. It didn’t matter to us who knew what about what car we had since ‘Shawn’ and his gang had already seen Frankie at the restaurant before. ‘Shawn’ knew we had the TTA so we decided to just let the chips fall where they may.

Tonight was going to be about street racing as far as we were concerned and hopefully, Jim could catch his perps without issue for us.

At least – that was the plan…

We were just about finished waxing the GSX when Jim pulled in. He had a plain-clothes with him who, after Jim had popped the trunk on the black Crown Vic (unmarked), pulled a fairly sizeable briefcase out.

“Steve, let’s go inside and we’ll go over the details and the equipment with you and Kel. This shouldn’t take long. Oh – this is Rob, he’s our Surveillance expert and he’ll get you hooked up on the wires you’ll be wearing. He and his team will be in a van out of sight from where you guys will be and they will be monitoring your conversations. We really want to get Cy but he is smart… damned smart. If you can get him to open up about cars he’s won or might try to win or what he is doing with them, that would be great. If all we can bust him for is racing and then take him down town, that will be good too. But - we would LOVE to get him on record saying something that connects him to a car or two that are reported stolen and we believe that probably have been shipped on one of those ships like I showed you in the photo sitting at port near Cleveland… Are you SURE you guys are still up for this?”

Kelly and I both nodded a solid “Yes”.

“Ok, let’s go on inside… Rob? You want to take it from here?”

Rob held out his hand to shake with us and began talking as we walked on into the house. Less than 20 minutes later, he and Jim were leaving. It wasn’t too complicated – the main thing was that we had to be sure the wires were completely out of sight, that they were securely adhered to our bodies, and that the transmitters were “ON”, which of course was the MOST important thing of all. Oh, and of course we should not get them wet. Duh…

After Jim and Rob piled back in the Vic, we finished buffing up the GSX. Standing back and looking at its flanks, we both just stared. For some reason, this car captivates you. Maybe it’s the lines… maybe it’s the color – black, deadly looking, simply evil… or, maybe it was knowing that this car is one of one. People like Dollar Bill and his crew from Flint who poured their souls into creating this freak of mechanical nature are special as are those who can appreciate the significance of a mechanical monster like Frankie… whatever it was, we didn’t speak… the light danced about the curves and angles on the car and it just sat there… waiting… looking at it in deep appreciation... behind us sat the TTA in the adjoining bay. We turned to look at it too...

The TTA exudes a different attitude. It comes across as brash and bold yet extremely confident… it doesn’t really strike you as a killer when you first glance at which is one of the reasons I love that car. The white and gold almost make the car seem like a 60 year old filthy-rich CEO with an open shirt and gold chains dangling down upon his tanned chest while he drives his BMW around town – it just looks dated, very ’80-ish. Yet, you do not realize the power that that car has within, just like that that CEO who could buy and sell most of us. The TTA is the same – it has the power and ability to do what it wants yet it seems to be almost ignored (except by those who know what the car truly is) or overlooked.

The paint shown brightly off the F-body’s hood and flanks and the engine bay was spotless too. Both cars were as ready as they would ever be… sitting next to each other in the garage, one in white, the other in black, it seemed to represent the forces in the Universe who constantly are at battle – good and evil. The TTA looked like the Good Guy, the Lone Ranger of performance cars; the GSX – definitely the Bad Guy, the person with a dark soul that even Lucifer would fear; one who would just as soon smash your face in than look at you. It would be interesting to see how each might represent its Universal ‘force’ tonight….

Of course, Kel and I both wondered about how it would go on the people- level too. Not just when Jim and his boys swooped in but before… would there be a lot of cars? Would Jonah/Shawn and his gang actually show up? Would there be trouble before the law even got there? We just didn’t know much what to expect to so in the end, we came back to our original plan.

Have fun, win races, stay safe and see the bad guy(s) go down then, we could just move on and prepare for what was yet to come. For us, tonight was going to be a tune-up to the big event upcoming at Tri-County that was rapidly approaching. We even hoped that Bill Reynolds might show up as well as Ned/Nate/whatever his ‘name’ might be… we didn’t think that would happen but hey, if Shawn/Jonah came, maybe a lot of more of his clan might show up. Again, it was all speculation…

Shortly before dark, Brandon and Stacy pulled into the drive. Kel and I were sitting in the garage, listening to the stereo's Classic Rock station and watching the evening draw to an end. Long shadows were being cast across the driveway and the sounds/smells of spring were in force. Birds and insects were doing their best to play their own symphony of nature and the lush, green grass was begging once again for a cutting. Down the street, somebody was grilling on a Charcoal grille and smell of Ribeye's or T-Bones danced in the air... The grass and our grille would just have to wait until tomorrow – today just didn’t have enough hours in it.

The GT500 slowed to a stop and then shut down. It looked low and mean; a different attitude than Frankie but very, very similar. While the GSX was just simply mean and evil in almost a prehistoric way, the Black Shelby was the New Satan… smooth, polished… menacing and muscular, bulging with powerful muscles beneath its wide flanks… no flash, no stripes or big wings… just raw, muscular power… like seeing an NFL middle linebacker in a black suit…. You just know that this is not an entity to screw with…

“Hey, Kel – hey Steve; you guys all ready to go?”

Stacy waved a hello as B grabbed a couple more chairs and sat them near Kelly and me.

“Yeah… we’re ready…” Kelly chimed in, “Darn right, we’re ready… and the cars are even MORE ready… I just hope this all goes well but either way, we’re going to have a good time…”

Stacy smiled and nodded in agreement. Before he sat down, Brandon walked over the fridge and grabbed a couple of sodas. Handing one to Stacy he sat down next to her and we just mostly talked small talk.

Brandon knew about the wires.

“So… are you guys wired yet?”

“Not yet. We won’t put them on until we actually get ready to leave which won’t be for an hour or so. But they’re pretty slick, really. I always thought that it was some big transmitter and a few feet of antenna but these weren’t anything like that at all – here, look…”

I picked up the primary transmitter off of the table to my left. It was very small – about half the size of a small cell phone. Its antenna was internal and it was usually placed in the small of your back when worn, just below belt level and out of sight. With it was a small microphone about the size of a dime. Like the main transmitter, it had peel and stick tape on its body-side that was even moisture resistant so it wouldn’t fall off.

Jim did caution us about the best way to remove the hardware once finished – he had said that if we just tried to rip it off like a band-aid, we would take a layer of skin with it! Instead, we were supposed to use a Q-tip and swab around its sides with the release agent that was in the small bottle that Rob had taken out of his case earlier in the afternoon.

The microphone had its own battery and had a range of ~6-8 feet. As long as both the transmitter and the mic were on your body, the transmitter (actually, a combo receiver/transmitter) would pick up the microphone’s signal and in turn, transmit it to the main receiver/recorder that Rob and his crew would be monitoring which could be up to 2 miles away! Kelly’s equipment was identical.

“Man Steve – this stuff is TINY! Are you sure it will stay on?”

“Jim also has a camera for each piece but in the dark it doesn’t pick up too well so we’re not wearing it. He also was very clear that if we tried to pull the hardware off our bodies without using the release agent, it would take skin. I’m going to believe him because he showed me marks on his chest and back that were still healing up from not using the agent. It looked like an octopus had its way with him! So, we’re going to do what he said and use the agent to get them off.”

Kelly nodded agreement, a serious "I ain't takin' no chances" look on her face.

So, we talked cars and races and Reynolds and Law Enforcement and before we knew it, it was almost 11pm. Since we were only about 20-30 minutes from the old airstrip, we began to get ready. Kelly and Stacy went inside so Stacy could help her get her equipment on and Brandon helped me get situated.

By then, Kel and Stacy came back out and we headed to our cars. Kelly was going to drive the TTA and me the GSX… turning off the garage lights as we opened the doors we saw the cars sitting and waiting. We had them backed in and they looked like thoroughbreds ready to hurtle from the gates. We heard Brandon start up the Shelby as the garage doors came to a stop at full open. It sounded good… really strong and healthy and the whine from the blower hissed and whistled eerily…

I opened the door of the GSX and got in, closing the door solidly. Amazingly, even after nearly 40 years - many of which were sitting in Dollar Bill's barn -, the car was STILL tight and silent, a testament to the build quality of the day… GM has taken a lot of bad press about quality over the years and some – if not a LOT – of it was deserved.

But the Buick’s were truly the ‘Gentleman’s racecar’ – the GSX muffled the sounds of B’s GT500 to almost silence… the hinges did not sag, the windows fit tightly against their weather-stripping, and the car still smelled nearly new. The Corvette might have gotten the press - but the Buicks were BUILT WELL.

I put the key into the ignition and turned it forward to ‘Run’. Immediately, the gauges jumped to life…

I matted the accelerator a couple of times…

Twisting the rectangular shaped key in the chrome ignition slot on forward to “Start” slowly, I imagined its travel in the cylinder… rotating… rotating… then – CONTACT!

Immediately, the contacts were closed and in a nano-second current surged through relays and wires and solenoids… 12+ volts shoved by a LOT of amps raced from the trunk-located battery to the starter and the 455’s compression tried to resist the torque placed by the starter on the flywheel. But it couldn’t… immediately, the engine turned over…

The crank drove the big cam resting impatiently within the block via the chain… as the cam rotated in its bearings, the lobes rotated and forced push rods up or allowed them to fall depending on where they were in the timing sequence… spark was already being generated via the distributor/coil and fuel/air mixture was being sucked in hurricane force into the massive intake… connecting rods began to rise and fall, taking bucket-sized pistons with each stroke as exhaust or intake valves opened/closed in concert with the push rods… it was a deadly yet coordinated mechanical dance of power… compression squeezed the fuel/air mixture and at precisely the right moment -

SPARK and with it the explosive force of combustion! The highly compressed fuel/air was trying to blow the piston and combustion chamber apart but only succeded in driving the piston downward in its power stroke... the same process now following the firing order within the mammoth engine resting in Frankie's bay...

IT - was alive...

In less than a second after the ignition cylinder's points made contact, Frankie ROARED… true to his evil nature, he protested loudly, shaking and sputtering for a moment as he came awake… angry at being disturbed but now wanting to inflict his anger upon lesser vehicles; vehicles who had no way of understanding what made Frankie who/what he is…

The GSX trembled the earth and concrete… next to me, I could barely hear the TTA start, such was the difference. Where Frankie was idling and shaking with anger, the TTA was whistling and burbling… the Trans Am was smooth and composed… not much mechanical attitude to be seen… just quietly confident and yet powerful… ready to do whatever was needed… it was just – ready to go.

Kelly looked over at me, her window down. Our eyes met and I nodded… she nodded in agreement… it was time.

By now, Frankie had settled into a steady, heavily cammed idle… I pressed the brake pedal down, snicked the shifter into drive… immediately, the GSX tried to lurch forward, only the brakes being able to restrain the immense torque being thrust upon the drivetrain by the big 455… in the TTA, Kelly did the same and I saw the TTA lurch also, trying to leave the confines of the darkening garage and head on out into the night…

We both turned on our lights and released the brakes almost simultaneously as the cars rolled out of the garage… stereo on the shelf in the garage was playing Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way”...

“Do-do-do-DO, do-do-do-DO-do… do-do-do-DO, do-do-do-DO-do-DO...“ Joe Perry’s killer guitar licks were screaming the intro… a signature song for a defining night... we were about to see who COULD 'Walk This Way'...

We pulled on out onto the garage apron and paused… pressing the remotes, the big overhead doors closed behind us... we were now completely within Frankie's environment... the dark.

Brandon and Stacy were down at the end of the drive facing us, the GT500’s parking lamps and fogs were on… he backed on out onto the road as we pulled ahead, both of us riding the brake pedals to keep the cars at bay as we rolled on out… Frankie continued to try and get loose, almost surging at times as the huge lift and duration throbbed powerful stabs at the drivetrain…

I pulled out first with Kelly behind me and Brandon/Stacy following up… finally, I released the brake fully and began to give some accelerator to Frankie…. He KNEW it was time…

Yes. It was definitely time…

To be continued…

[RHDDonnieee]

wayyyyyyy to much to read nate

[enigmadsm]

donnie....you cant even read the freakin texts i send you slut!!!!!
lol, hit me back some time

[RHDDonnieee]

donnie....you cant even read the freakin texts i send you slut!!!!!
lol, hit me back some time

:whatever:

[Mr.HondA]

wow

[rushbuster70]

cliff notes?anybody?

[Neebs]

Holey moley. Might jaw just dropped just to see how long this was.

Cliff notes ftw.

[azteamextreme]

wow

[Its Shupe]

didnt even read it.... just scrolled through it and it STILL took forever!!!!!

has this been published yet?

hahahha seriously

[boostedrex]

i gave up after like 3 minutes, whats the story about

[Rufus]

Scrolling FTL

[lexotic_sc300]

this guy writes a bunch of these stories ... seem em on supraforums... there is some much shorter ones ... lol .. he's got some good stories bout his GN

[eviilboy]

Post the rest.. damn you... that wasn't nearly long enough.

[Double_0_MR]

I need to read the rest of this, so get to postin'! This is better than any book I've ever read. If you haven't thought about getting this published yet, you should. I would buy it and anything else you've written about cars in a heartbeat.

[1320civic]

what the heezy..?? who actually read all dat..??

[honduh_head]

what the heezy..?? who actually read all dat..??

i've read a lot of it...i'm trying to put it in a word doc so i can read it when i'm not on my comp lol.

and i think there's been an update since this lol

[honduh_head]

just put it in word so i can read it later tonight :)

[honduh_head]

Finally got 2 more installments!
It Was One Of Those Days XXX

You know how easy it is to get ‘lost in the moment’? If you’re in a car like Frankie, it’s damned easy indeed…

Traveling down the back roads headed to the site, I pretty much zoned out everything in front or behind me… it was almost like the GSX was going where it needed to go and although I was the driver, I felt more like a passenger… kind of like you do when you’re riding a horse.

Sure, you’ve got the reins but in reality, if the horse ever REALLY wanted to go where he wanted to go, you’re going with him…

Frankie reminded me of that this evening… of how although I FELT in control, HE really was the one who was allowing me the privilege to think that… And at times, even though the rumble from the enormous big block Buick was nearly deafening, it felt almost silent...

I could see the trees overhead as we raced along… I saw the fences and fields pass by… I saw the moon rising in the distance… yet, it felt almost silent… driving on toward who knew what, I became lost in the unbelievable, earth shaking power that was at my beck and call beneath my right foot… lost in thought about what might unfold this night… lost in the moment…

By the time we got to the abandoned airport, there was already a huge crowd. Cars and people of every persuasion were scattered about the grassy areas... it looked almost like a staged event!

Down the primary 'race' area - the main runway from years ago - cars lined both sides of tarmac with their headlights on illuminating the 'track' nearly as well as any strip I've ever ran on. Most of those cars were non-race types but a few 5.0's and F-bodies dotted the landscape.

There were several cars lined up at the one end of the track, obviously ones that intended to race. There was one primary group of people and while I couldn’t see who was at the center of the crowd, I was pretty sure I knew what was going down.

Betting. Lots and lots of betting for money, possibly slips. But these were small potato guys – we needed to find the big fish….

As we parked away from the crowd, the four of us headed up to size up the situation. We already were wired up and the transmitters were on so Jim and his crew could hear any and everything we said and heard as well (IF his equipment was as good as he said it was).

As we neared the crowd no one paid much attention to us. But then, from behind I heard…

“Steve! Is that you?”

Turning, we saw Cy walking slowly towards us. And right beside him was Jonah/Shawn followed by Mort and Billy. Shawn was the one who had yelled my name.

Wow. Talk about a quick turn of events… for a moment, I wondered if any one of them might actually show and here they ALL were. Jim would HAVE to be happy about this – IF it turns out well.

Time would tell.

“So, Steve… did you bring anything interesting? I’ve got the Cuda here tonight and IF you’ve got that nasty Buick, I would love to have a go at it. Whadaysay?”

Man… this guy wasted NO time in laying some cards out. But the one I needed to hear (or rather, that Jim needed to hear) wasn’t out of his hand yet – would HE street race for money or better yet, for cars? It didn’t take long to find out.

“Yeah, I’ve got the Buick. But honestly, I’m not really into just racing for the sake of racing. I like to run when something is on the line, not just bragging rights…”

I hoped that if I threw enough chum in the water that the sharks would come.

They did.

“Aw, Steve, you’re preachin’ to the choir, man! What would it take to make it interesting for you, huh? Money? BIG money? Name your price, Steve – I’ve got it.”

My head was spinning and I knew Kelly’s was too. Even Brandon and Stacy looked a little taken aback at the quick ramping up of the stakes at hand.

I held back though… playing poker with these guys was going to have to take a lot of patience and finesse. Just running for cash wasn’t what Jim needed to nail them for if possible.

I looked Shawn straight in the eye but off to the side, I could see that Cy had slid in right up against him. I think HE was listening closer than anyone.

“Tell you what Shawn…. How do you feel about racing for what REALLY matters most?”

He grinned as did Cy. I knew now they were circling for the kill…

“Whacha mean, Steve? For titles? That’s pretty serious stuff isn’t it? You SURE you want to play that way?” His lips were smiling but his eyes were as cold as a January morning….
“Depends, Shawn. I brought a couple of cars tonight. The GSX of course and I also brought that TTA. I don’t think the TTA would fair to well against your Cuda but I am willing to run it against something comparable. Got anything worth me taking??

Cy and Shawn exchanged glances and then I saw Cy nod as if to say, ‘Go on…’ I hoped that Jim was getting all this down…

Shawn paused for a moment, the grin almost gone but then there it was again….

“Tell you what, Steve. Cy’s got a car over there that would be a good run against the TTA. It’s a late model Mustang, one of those new Shelby GT’s with a few mods and it runs pretty good. I think it’s got a 75 shot of Nitrous but you can check it out. Care to run it for slips?”

There it was – part of what Jim needed. But still, he needed more…

“I don’t know, Shawn. Say I win – do you think Cy can part with that kind of car that easily?”

Cy spoke this time…

“Steve. That car is one of many I own, most of which I’ve won. So, if you win it, it’s no big deal. But how about you? What if I win YOUR car? Can you swallow THAT Steve?”

Cy wasn’t grinning at all.

“I don’t play if I can’t afford to pay, Cy. Let’s look at your car and you can look at mine. We’ll decide for sure after that, ok?”

Just then, a cell phone rang. It was Shawn’s. He pulled it off the clip on his belt, looked at the face to see the number and then simply walked away, giving Cy a thumb’s up gesture.

“Sure Steve. Let’s take a look…”

Brandon followed Cy and his crew over to the TTA while Kelly and I headed over towards a white Shelby GT. It looked innocuous enough and I thought that it was ironic that it was white just like the TTA. The silver stripes seemed out of place on it but the car was nice enough looking.

The hood was already up and while the mill looked fairly stock, the plumbing for the Nitrous was right out in plain view. Billy jumped in the car and fired it up and it sounded fairly stock.

I whispered to Kel… “What do you think?” Billy shut off the car and got out, leaving the white door open as he headed over towards the TTA where Cy and the others were looking it over..

“I don’t think he wants the TTA that badly Steve but I DO think he wants to get his hands on the Buick.”

I thought for a moment. This might be the perfect time to play a timeless game of give and take. If it went well, we could have it all. But – if it didn’t, there was no telling where it would go. I laid out my plan to Kel in less than a minute. Her eyes got wider with each detail….

“Man Steve, I don’t know. Are you SURE it’s safe to play this heavily with these creeps? Those Reynolds are bad news, remember?”

“Kel, nothing good comes easy. But if you think it’s too risky, we’ll back away…”

She thought for a moment and I could see her eyes narrow a bit….

“No, Steve…. You’re right. Let’s play and see where it leads…. Jim and the Calvary aren’t that far away so if things crumble, we should be ok….”

“Good….”

That was all I had time to say. Cy and his crew were already headed back over along with Shawn.

Oddly, they stopped just before they got near to us and I watched as Shawn whispered something in Cy’s ear, his eyes on me and Kel the whole time, as he showed Cy something on the cell phone he had just answered. As he was talking to Cy, Cy’s grin faded a bit.

Cy whispered something back to him and then they both nodded in agreement. Now, they both were grinning…

A cold, clammy chill swept down my back and I felt Kelly move up closer to me. Neither of us felt good about what we were seeing but we couldn’t back out now without looking suspicious.

“So what do you think Steve?” asked Cy, as he and his ‘crew’ finished walking up. “Fair fight or not?”

“Sure Cy, let’s dance. My TTA against your Shelby GT title for title. Are you ready?”

“Steve” said Cy as he slid (or slithered?) into the Pony, “I’m always ready. But you need to remember something for me, ok?”

“What’s that, Cy?”

“Steve… you need to remember that there will always be a winner and a loser. The challenge is finding out which one you really, truly are, deep down inside… “

He fired up the Mustang.

“Meet me at the line, Steve. Let’s go…”

I just nodded. Maybe it was his attitude. Maybe, it was the fact that he seemed to almost be talking down to me, like I was one of his peons… I don’t know… but I DID know that now I was mad…. And I also knew that now this was not going to be a night at all like I wondered if it would…

Actually, I really had no idea at all what was coming next…. Not a clue…

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days XXXI


In a matter of minutes, the ‘starting line’ was cleared. I was in the left lane with the TTA; Cy in the white Shelby GT to my right.

When the Shelby GT came out right after Ford introduced the retro GT-H Hertz car, I didn’t really care for it much. It seemed more like another one of Ford’s appearance package but as I got a chance to look at the car, I realized that in all reality, the Shelby GT was truly more of an actual “Shelby” mustang than the GT-500 monster is.

The GT-500 is built alongside the Mustang GT and V6 models whereas the Shelby GT’s are actually tweaked at Ol’ Shel’s corral out in Las Vegas. He takes a Mustang GT, adds Ford’s Power Pack and Handling Pack, and then puts his touches on it which include stripes, lettering, and so forth. While the GT-H is only available with an auto, the GT can be had with a 5 speed which will then come with a Hurst short throw shifter. Cy’s Shelby had the 5 speed.

There aren’t any fog lights on the Shelby GT and no rear spoiler so it has a clean, sort of a ’67 Shelby GT-350-ish look about it. While watching Cy stage the GT, I did have to admit that the car looked nice.

Not threatening; just nice…

But – its attitude was all business. The 4.6 mod motor V8 had a very healthy, robust tone to it. Menacing almost…I could hear it loudly over the hissing note the TTA was emitting while I warmed the DR’s.

I also had noticed that the Shelby had wider than stock rears on it with drag radials as well. As the tires hooked on the Mustang, it lurched ahead and glided on up to the spray painted “START” letters that were bracketed by a wide Green stripe. Meanwhile, money was being wagered and bench racing could be heard as well….

I wondered where Brandon, Stacy and Kelly were but then I saw them over to my left as I let off the brake and let the tires bite with a high pitched screeching sound.

I nudged the TTA up to the line as well. A tall, willowy brunette walked out to stand between us, holding a white scarf in her hands. Looking down the strip, I could see the lights from all the cars flooding the pavement. They were angled away from the direction of travel so headlight glare wasn’t a worry.

A HUGE crowd was standing near both the TTA as well as the Shelby. To be honest, more people were by the Poncho, most likely out of curiosity. I just happened to notice that just ahead and to the side of Cy were his ‘boys’, each of them standing there in the strange light, arms crossed and looking serious, way more serious than you might think a spectator would have at a street race.

It was then that I noticed a guy in a dark trench coat standing to the right of Shawn. He appeared to have just pushed his way to the front of the crowd and in the light I couldn’t tell who it was at first. But a flash of light from a car somewhere behind us happened to strike his face and in a flash, I recognized him –

It was Bill Reynolds – or his identical twin. Immediately, a cold chill swept over me. Was he really alive after all????!!!

But I had no time to give it any thought. No sooner had I pulled the nose of the Trans Am up to the line did the starter girl point at me with an “Are you ready?” look on her face?

I nodded yes as I was already building boost with the foot brake pressed to the floor. 2psi… 3psi… 5psi…

She had pointed to Cy and must have gotten the “Go” from him because she immediately raised the white scarf in the air. As she did so, I could see her shirt pull up above her waist, revealing a tan abdomen, low cut jeans and a silver belly ring in her navel. I had to re-focus – I was definitely getting distracted…

7psi… 8psi… The V6 was pushing hard against the brakes…

I could hear the V8 being held at a steady RPM that sounded somewhere north of 4 grand…. The exhaust was roaring at this point…

The crowd was leaning in… almost to the point of being up against the cars… I thought to myself that if either Cy or I slide sideways it will be a miracle if no one gets crushed…

The white scarf was gently swaying in the breeze… held high by a gorgeous girl’s lovely arm….

I wondered how much of this Jim and his gang had heard… were they nearby? Were they already on the grounds? I had no idea…

Then… time seemed to slow down… it was as if I saw the girl’s arm begin to just move and I sidestepped the brake pedal…. As did Cy on the clutch…

We both launched HARD and I could only pray that the girl was out of the way… thankfully, we launched straight.

While I had it fairly easy in the TTA with letting the auto do the shifting, I had noticed that the boost was somewhere between 10 and 11 psi at launch… the DR’s protested only slightly but they held solidly and it looked almost like the Shelby and the TTA were welded together, so perfectly in synch was the drop….

The V6 was screaming now… but even though it was only a few feet in front of me and separated by a well-silenced firewall, the Shelby seemed to take on an unbelievable exhaust note… but I then remembered that it had nitrous so it was definitely in it’s power curve sounding for all the world like it had to be well over six grand on rpms…

I heard Cy grabbing gears - and he was good…. Damn good… he power shifted and never lifted…. The Shelby was screaming and by the time the TTA was well into second with the tarmac streaking by beneath us I began to have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach…. The TTA was slowly drifting back and it appeared that the Shelby was ever-so-slightly pulling away…

As the Pontiac hit the top of second gear, I knew CY was already into third, still inch-by-inch pulling on the TTA… I could only keep the accelerator matted as I watched helplessly as the Shelby was now almost a fender ahead of the slope-nosed Firebird…

But I also knew that the TTA could pull like a Norfolk & Western freight train in third gear and that was all I could rely upon… hoping that Cy might miss a shift was also in the back of my mind…

Yet, I doubted that he would.

To his credit, he didn’t…

At a little past midpoint, the TTA hit third gear and now it was on for sure…

Just after the Poncho went into third, I heard Cy grab 4th… it was all over now except for the ride…. If nothing failed, this was going to be one hell of a race.

The TTA was not stock… not by a long shot. But it wasn’t built full-race either. It had all the necessary bolt-ons and computer mods. Adjustable fuel pressure regulator, bigger injectors, adjustable boost, low-restriction exhaust, etc… I knew this car should be deep into the 12’s and maybe even high-high 11’s as it sat.

But – so was the Shelby. It was a really good match up on paper….

As we neared the 1000 foot mark, the TTA began to reel the GT in… I just did not know if I had enough track left…

Quickly, I realized that it might NOT be enough track to do it!

The speedo was already hitting 100mph and rising…

The Shelby felt like it was still slightly ahead… but I could not be sure, I had to focus on the track and make sure I kept control….

We had to be even… I just KNEW it… we HAD to be… it was going to be a photo finish I remember thinking…

But then…

I felt like the GT was again beginning to pull me with less than 50 yards to go…

I pushed even harder on the pedal… but it did no good…

The cars we passed were flying by… people were all around, a lot of them at the finish with camcorders… I could see tiny red LED’s in the darkness as people filmed the finish…

There cameras would show clearly the result of the race….

There was no denying it…

I lost. By less than the nose of the Mustang – I lost.

And I knew it when we crossed the line because I looked over and could see the mirror on Cy’s door was out of view by the A-pillar on the F-body.

Lost….

Deep in the depths of my soul I hated it. I hated myself and I hated losing. I have NEVER been willing to just accept a loss like this.

Especially this one - the one that I wanted to win so badly…

But also the one that Kelly and I hoped would happen….

Why? Because once in a great while…. to be a predator –

you have to be willing to be the prey….

To be continued…

[cwjdmitr]

whens the next installment?

[honduh_head]

whens the next installment?

no idea....prolly soon cuz i think the guy wants it all done before summer

[reyes1212]

Dude, I have the most severe ADD I know of and this story kept me hooked. Do yourself a favor and give it a read. Not only does it have some nice old-school muscle cars, but the plot is actually really good :P

Reading all the replies got me pissed...WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT??

lol

Is it a real story from some book or this dude wrote, or what?!?!?!?!
lol
lmaoooooooo
:lmao::lmao::lmao::lmao::lmao::lmao:

[95_B18b1_Teg]

holy shit man i used the little ball on my mouse to scroll down and it took forever! damn dude

[juan3023]

HOLY SHIT MAN. What are you writing a book?

x2

[honduh_head]

enigmadsm is NOT the writer... a guy on a Buick forum is....and yes it is a "short" story about an older gentleman and his GNx

[enigmadsm]

yeah, sorry i didn't post up the newest installments. Thanks for keeping up Brad....It seemed like it was almost a year since the guy made any updates on his story.

[bmxican]

what an A hole!! I finally fucking read this shit, and now I can't even get a ending!?

[sicboy]

fuck novels

[honduh_head]

fuck novels

mmm, for the THIRD time...it's a short, yes short story. it was only 175 pages in MS Word. the last novel i read was well over 600 pages.

[bmxican]

again, thats messed up, I finally read all that on a boring long day of school work and no end! :(

[Nott_Sure]

one word

EPIC




:blunt:

[honduh_head]

again, thats messed up, I finally read all that on a boring long day of school work and no end! :(

damn...you're actually farther than i am on it then lol....congrats. then again i have a bad case off add and can't read something like this for longer than say, ooohhh 30 seconds lol.

[drichb16]

hurry up more installments this story is F*ckin sweet shit man as i read it it was playin in my head man this would make a bad ass movie does anyone else agree i would love to see this on the big screen i havent seen a good car movie in years this needs to be shown to someone im serious i love it man good shit

[honduh_head]

hurry up more installments this story is F*ckin sweet shit man as i read it it was playin in my head man this would make a bad ass movie does anyone else agree i would love to see this on the big screen i havent seen a good car movie in years this needs to be shown to someone im serious i love it man good shit

dude i totally thought the same thing! the first ten chapters are nail biting lol

[eklova]

wtf wheres the end ? i sat here reading it all day between breaks and no ending ?!

[tegswin]

Wow... just wow. I enjoyed every second of this so far... I read it straight through. I am very surprised at how well this is put together.


It is now 4am and I told Dan I would help him work on his car at 10:30.
THATS HOW GOOD THIS STORY IS!

I hope he posts more and give him nothing but props for the story so far.

[CytoTek]

well apparently theres only a couple people who actually read here... anyway


wow, what a fucking story...i want more.. i started reading at 130 its 530 Holy fuck.

for those of you asking for cliff notes, READ THE FUCKING STORY. much better.... all i have to say now is... i certainly dont need to sleep today

[91cb7h22]

Awesome story!! Hurry and post the end I’m bored at work

[squirms]

Holy shit, i just spent most of my free time at work reading this, but damn now i gotta go to the damn buick.com to finish it.

[93CivicSi]

Excellent so far... when do we see more???

:thumbsup::thumbsup::thumbsup::thumbsup::thumbsup: :thumbsup:

[UNDER PRESSURE]

That dude dies... the end. Sorry for spoiling it for you guys.

[honduh_head]

updates for you guys.... sorry for falling behind lol


It Was One of Those Days - Part XXXII

I followed the Shelby as I turned off at the end of the tarmac and headed back up to the faux start line. Wondering what the reaction was going to be was whirling through my mind; wondering if Jim really WAS nearby; hoping that Kelly wasn’t in the thick of something, that B and Stacy were safe….

I really had no reason to think negatively; I just knew what sort of crowd Cy, Shawn, and the rest of the Reynolds’ clan/posse were capable of, especially after what Jim had shared with us. So, with all that running through my mind on the cool, crisp night I followed the red tail lights of the Mustang back to the front and into the swirling throng of people.

Cy had his left hand out of his window, high-five-ing everyone as he went by. He quickly stopped as he passed the start line and I did the same next to him, letting the Turbo cool just a few seconds before I shut down the TTA and hopped out. Cy was getting back claps and hand shakes, all the while grinning from ear to ear, triumphant in his victory.

I reached back in the TTA and grabbed the title, quickly signing it on the roof of the car...

Immediately, I saw Kelly, Brandon and Stacy walking toward me… and oddly enough, Kelly had a slight grin on her face. Well, ‘oddly’ to most people since we had just ‘lost’ the TTA in a street race. She came up and planted a kiss on my cheek, using the move to whisper in my ear…

Brandon and Stacy saw the smile cross my face too and I knew they were dying to hear what was up but just then, Shawn and Cy were walking towards me with their gang in tow, Cy’s hand out for the title.

“So… Steve-o…. sorry about kicking your butt there but like I told you, someone is the winner and someone is the loser. That ‘loser’ is you, my friend. I’ll take that title if you’ve signed it, ok?”

I handed the document to Cy, noting the smirk on most of his pals. Now, it was time to throw out the big bait.

“Shawn – or Cy? I’ve got a proposition for you guys. I would like to win that car back – would you give me the chance? I know Cy won it but what do you say – interested in something interesting?”

By this time, the crowd was in tightly against us. The breeze was still and somewhere overhead in the darkness, a jet could be heard taking people from one city to another… Shawn looked over at Cy and then who ever it was in the trench coat (Bill?) stepped up behind Cy, leaned up to his ear, whispered something and then backed into the crowd…. Hmm…

“I don’t know, Steve-o…. what do you have in mind? If ya lose many more races, I’ll have to call you a cab to get home.”

The crowd laughed and Cy just grinned some stupid cat-like grin, figuring he had it all in the bag.

I glanced around, hoping that the wireless was working ok. It was quiet… pin-dropping quiet. So, Jim should not have had any problem listening to this conversation as I laid out a little more line to the big fish.

“Look…I know you guys are much more serious about this stuff than I am but at the same time, I do not like to lose. How about a double or nothing race?”

I noticed all of the ‘gang’ look immediately to Shawn (or Jonah?) and back over to Cy. Perhaps the real power player in this crowd wasn’t Cy or a Reynolds after all? Cy was just standing off to the side, watching Shawn negotiate… but he was definitely paying close attention.

Shawn motioned to Cy and Cy walked up to him, his back to me. He was leaning in to Shawn and pulled his cell phone off his hip, opened it and showed him something on it. I could see Shawn shake his head and whisper something back to Cy and then Cy went over to stand by Billy and Mort.

“Tell you what, Steve. I think I might have a buyer for that TTA that Cy just won… I don’t think I want to risk it again…”

Now, HE was trying to lay out some bait…. There was definitely something in the middle of where he was heading on that cell phone that had become such a focal point.

I knew I had to play it cool here and now. His stating that he ‘had a buyer’ was partly what Jim needed to hear. I had to try and pull more out of him without being too obvious….

“What do you mean, you ‘have a buyer’? Cy won the car – what’s the connection? And besides, who doesn’t give a guy a chance to least TRY and win back his car, huh? What’s the deal? You guys aren’t some sort of ‘Fast & Furious’ clowns trying to send cars overseas, now are you? Gimme a chance here!” I laughed loudly with the crowd, seeming to insinuate that I knew that wasn’t the case.

Ouch! I didn’t mean to put all that out there but at the same time, the idea – to the crowd and hopefully Shawn/Cy too - knew it was supposed to be a loser’s joke. I thought they would laugh too but unbelievably, they opened up.

It was Cy who stepped up.

“Steve, here’s the deal. Most everyone here knows Shawn and I are into the car business. Some of our ‘customers’ shall we say are not necessarily local clientele, do you follow? I’ve had my eye on the TTA for some time but a guy that had one like it before just sort of disappeared on me before we could race for it. But yeah…. I do have a buyer…”

Wow! I knew Jim’s ears had to be loving this…

“Ok. So big deal. I don’t care about that stuff – I just want a chance to win the car back. How about I run my GSX against Shawn’s Hemi Cuda? You’ve got to know that someone would love to have a nice Buick, right?”

More bait… and they were definitely nibbling on the hook… Kelly was up tight against me now. I could feel her hand patting my shoulder in agreement. She knew how important this was becoming.

But Cy nor Shawn were exactly stupid. Actually, it was the trench coat dude who sealed the deal… or shall I say, their fate? He moved forward….

“Steve… remember me?”

The minute I heard the voice, I knew who it was… it WAS Bill Reynolds…

Playing dumb, I simply said, “Not for sure. Why?” No sense playing all my cards right off either…

“Suffice it to say that you and I had a wicked street race a long, long time ago that did not go well for me. Actually, a lot of people think I died. But, I didn’t. And thanks to Cy and Shawn here, I’ve had a renewed interest, shall we say, in street racing.”

Interesting… where the hell was he going with this ‘announcement’? And why? Why not stay hidden? Many more questions than answers for the moment…

“Shawn and Cy work for me, Steve.”

Now even I was confused. Jim had said that Cy is the bad guy – I wonder what or IF he knew about Bill Reynolds miraculous healing/resurrection? Oh well… no time to act that interested….

“Bill? Doesn’t matter to me who you are or if you were supposed to be dead or not. I never liked your attitude, but that’s no problem either. I just want to do some racing, get my TTA back, and go home. If you ARE the brains of this outfit, then what is it going to take?”

“We’re businessmen, Steve. We deal with people that you can not comprehend. We’re not just some little street racing outfit here and most everyone in this crowd knows. They also know to keep their mouth shut – this is a pretty close knit group and why you need an invitation to ever race with us...”

Ok… that made sense…

“I need that TTA but since you are bound and determined to try and win it back, I’ll tell you what – we can race for all the marbles. If you win, you get the TTA back… but it’s not quite as simple as it sounds…”

Ok, I’m thinking… that’s a given. What’s his punch line?

It didn’t take long to find out….

“But - If you lose, I get your GSX AND the GT500 your buddy drove here tonight. I’ve got a buyer for one those black ones like his and this buyer lives in the Philippines. He’s got a taste for the unusual, the exotic, and especially Shelby’s. He’s bought a lot from us. Actually, we sold him a GNX, trailer, and Ford truck that is waiting to be shipped…”

BINGO!!!!

I felt Kelly’s hand grab my arm – he just admitted a connection to a stolen vehicle! Jim and the Calvary HAD to be on the way… weren’t they?

“Bill – I think you should keep your mouth shut about this stuff…” It was Cy, glaring at Bill like a rattler eyeing a cobra.

Bill leveled his gaze at Cy and just glared. Cy didn’t back down but he didn’t say anything further either. Bill looked back at me…


“THAT is my deal… take it or leave it. If you aren’t ready to run with the big dogs then get off my porch because we’ve got more racing to do.”

Brandon spoke next.

“Run him, Steve. You can take the Cuda…”

Bill interrupted.

“Oh he won’t be running the Cuda, pal - at least not first race. Cy will be driving a Road Runner for the first one. Maybe you remember it from a while back? It’s black and I’m sure you saw it. You’ve got to beat it first, THEN I’ll run you with the Cuda for the TTA.”

He paused…

“Beat the Road Runner AND the Cuda you keep all three – If you lose to the Road Runner or the Cuda, I keep the TTA, get your GSX and get the Shelby. If you win the first race but change your mind, I’m still keeping the TTA. If you lose the first race, I’m still taking all three cars. Simple as that…. Deal?”

More silence… where was Jim? I was hoping that a race would not even be necessary at this point. These stakes were getting much too high… And, thoughts about the racing Bill and I had set up months ago involving Pinks and all that was bouncing around my head too. This was happening much too fast for comfort…

Kelly leaned up to my ear…

“Steve… I don’t know much about this deal but I know Jim is not going to let us down. He’ll be here – when the time is right. Race him.”

“Ok, Bill… let’s play. But first, I need to know one thing, just out of curiosity.”

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever seen a Frankenstein movie? You know, the old original Frankenstein’s?”

A weird look crossed his face and then he just grinned. “Yes, of course I have. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, you do know that the monster in the movies wasn’t real, right?”

“Yeah… so?” His impatience was showing

“The monster over there – that GSX - IS…” Frankie was waiting… I turned and headed to him sitting there in the dark…

NOW, was the time…

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

33

The night air was definitely getting cooler… Kelly walked close to me but did not say anything as I reached and opened Frankie’s door. The glow from the dome light flooded out onto the tarmac below.

“Steve… I’m not sure about this. Don’t you think Jim should have been here by now?”

I knew she was serious about her concerns – I could hear it clearly in her whispered voice. As she pulled in close to me I hugged her, my face tight against her head, her hair against my cheek…

“I don’t know Kel… I thought Jim would have been here by now too, especially since Bill and Cy pretty much blabbed what I thought he would want to know…”

I WAS confused by that fact… I was sure Jim had what he needed based on what they said but yet he wasn’t here yet. I had to reassure her a little… maybe, just maybe reassure myself some too.

“I guess he’s just waiting for the right moment, Kel… he’ll be here when it’s right.”

She looked up at me with those enormous eyes of hers with the kind of look that makes me always fall in love with her every time she looks at me that way… the tiniest of smiles crept across her face.

“Ok… I know you’re right, Steve. So, go ahead and kick some MOPAR butt, ok?”

She gave me a squeeze and backed away from the door as I slid in on the cool seat. As I was buckling up, she leaned in and kissed my cheek, her lips warm and inviting. “See you a few minutes, babe. Win this one, ok?”

Her smile said it all and was all the motivation I needed. I just nodded and smiled and pulled the GSX’s heavy door shut. It closed with a solid feel and ‘Chunk’… suddenly, all was quiet once more.

I had the key in my hand and slid it into the slot, rotating it forward to the first detent. The gauges came alive; power surging forward from the big battery sitting in the dark of the trunk behind me… the nearly whispered ‘whirrrrrrr’ of the interior fan could be heard…

I tapped the accelerator to the floor only once. I could hear/feel the linkage working from beneath the dash, through the firewall, out above the intake, operating the huge butterflies on the two highly tweaked Holley 600cfm carbs.

Lights and shadows danced off the curves on the sleek fiberglass hood that hid deep within the soul of all things mechanical. I hesitated watching the gauges stay in their place, listening as two more cars raced on down the strip over behind the crowd.

Kelly just stood there… when ever we start this car it always has the same effect on both of us. It’s impossible to describe other than what people may feel when they see a bad car crash – they really do not want to look but they can not look away.

Frankie does that to you. You KNOW you should look away, not make eye contact… you know that if this car awakens, no good thing will come of it for someone… you KNOW that it’s cold, steely mechanical soul only wants one thing.

To kill.

A cold bead of sweat trickled off my brow and started a slow slide down the side of my face… Kel’s eyes met mine again and she nodded her head….

I rotated the key forward, past “Run”….

To “Start”.

“Buh-WHUMPH!...”

He was alive once more. At first, the fast idle was controlling the temp but one quick blip of the accelerator and the roar settled back into what sounded like artillery fire being randomly lit off… hurling death and destruction skyward and not caring where it landed.

Immediately, scores of people who were yards away turned towards Frankie to see what the god-awful sound was. They too were transfixed… they could not have been more stunned nor fearful if a T-Rex had lunged out of the woods behind me…. Yet, they could not move.

I could not hear anything other than a maddening cacophony of enormous pistons crushing huge gulps of air/fuel mixture to be exploded in a mechanical dance of timing with the enormous cam, valves and exhaust.

The car shook violently with each pulse of the 455. I could feel anger in each throbbing explosion – the cool vinyl seat almost seemed alive beneath me. My right hand was on the shifter and it danced and pulsed in my hand.

This car did not ask for anything other than to be loosed. It snarled and spat and cursed with each piston stroke… it lurched and shook; almost as if it was trying to shake itself apart but hell-bent on not doing so. It was solid and mighty and terrifyingly beautiful, all at the same time.

The crowd was still staring. I noticed that Bill and a few others had come to the front to see what the violence was… Kelly motioned for me to open the door. When I did, she had to yell for me to be able to hear her…

“I just saw the Road Runner go around to the start line… are you ready?”

I nodded. I had noticed the side lights of a car moving off to my left, figuring it must be Cy in the MOPAR.

“I’m ready. The car is ready – we’re set… See you in a few….” I swung the heavy door back shut and steadied for just a moment, still in awe of the torque monster that lay between the motor mounts in front of me, separated from me by the thinnest of firewalls…

I revved the motor a couple of times, allowing Frankie to bellow fiercely into the cold night. Children and women cowered… men stood in fear and shook their heads… some whispering to the other nervously….

Frankie settled back into what could barely be called an “idle” because it was obvious to anyone who was within earshot that this car did NOT like to idle. I reached down to the shifter, my foot hard on the brake pedal. I pulled the release upward and worked the stiff handle rearward, passing quickly through “R” then “N” and back into “D”.

Instantly, the car lurched forward tugging and straining against the brakes with each pulse of the ‘idle’, desperately trying to lunge and kill with malicious delight. The huge Dana sat ready to transfer power once the brakes were released and once the converter was loaded up…

I sidestepped the brake pedal and the car jumped forward. It is always like trying to arm wrestle a gorilla when I try to steer this car at idle… it only likes to go straight and it takes a lot of persuasion and a little more engine speed to make the steering somewhat lighter…

As we rolled out, I reached down to the left side of the instrument panel and pulled the round light switch out to the first detent to turn on the parking lights… the instruments immediately glowed with a sinister backlight and the ground was flooded amber before me…

Pulling on around to the starting line, I finally could hear the Road Runner. I had to admit that I did not really give much serious thought to the car. I don’t know why… and that could be an incredibly stupid thing to do – not know your opponent, especially in a street race.

But oddly I was at ease. I knew that really all I had to do was ride. If I gave Frankie a good start, I did not think about losing. Stupid? Yes.

Unless you were sitting where I was.

In seconds I was at the ‘burnout area’. I heated the massive rear tires and pulled on up to the right side of the line, the R/R to my left. It was then that I realized that I wasn’t driving the only monster tonight. The HEMI hissed and snarled with a menacing growl, oblivious to the GSX’s thunder. While it was hard to hear the MOPAR since I was sitting in an uninsulated factory race car, I COULD still hear it.

And it sounded strong.

Someone stepped in front of us between the cars and held a white Cowboy hat in his hand. He pointed at me and I nodded. He pointed at Cy and I’m guessing he nodded too…

Immediately, I began to load the converter against the transbrake… I could hear the R/R had upped the revs but didn’t really listen that closely. I knew in seconds I would have to hang on for my life…

I watched the starter slowly lift the Stetson skyward…

The tach was pegged north of 3000 rpm… the transbrake held as Frankie was straining to be loosed….

I did not watch the hat. I watched the fingers on the hand holding the hat.

And when I saw them twitch, letting go of the hat – a nanosecond before the hat started to flutter-fall back to earth – I released the T-brake.

BAM!!!!

I was slammed VIOLENTLY against the seat as the immense torque of the 455 tried its best to rip the motor out of the mounts – but the mounts held fast… The power transferred back through the converter and the Turbo 400, trying its best to rip the universals out of the driveline – but they held fast…

As the driveshaft tried to twist itself into – and held – the power went on back into the big Dana 60, trying to shear the teeth off the gears and failing that, trying to strip the splines off the enormous axles – which also held.

Hundreds of lb/ft of torque violently twisted the shafts… not being able to break them or shear the lug nuts from the wheels and failing to spin the tires that were holding fast to the surface of the track, the several hundred lb/ft of torque could only do one thing…

Fling the nose of the GSX skyward in anger.

In the fraction of a second since I had loosed the hellhounds beneath the hood with the flick of one small switch, the nose of the Buick lurched upward, pulling both wheels solidly off the pavement while at the same time, crushing my spine and helmet back into the seat, making me look up into the night sky over the black hood...

NOW, the steering was light…

Later, people told me that Frankie had reared his ugly and destructive head for nearly 100 feet before the nose settled back to earth. It did not matter…

By the time the front wheels came back down, the Road Runner was half a car back. And losing ground with each passing second.

Later, people at the finish line said there were at least two car lengths between the GSX’s rear fender and the nose of Cy’s MOPAR…

I couldn’t really tell… I was just glad to be able to step off the accelerator. Even I was scared of Frankie’s power after that run.

I don’t know if it was the cool air or what but this was the strongest I had ever felt this car run. And oddly enough, I felt like it still had more in it. That was easily a very, very low 10 second run, most likely a niner.

As the GSX slowed with the help of the brakes and I made the turn to head back to the front, I wondered if Kelly saw the launch and what she though. I wondered if Jim and the department was finally there…

I wondered if Bill would give me any grief… but most of all, I felt good. I felt like I had just ridden the wildest of beasts, a hair’s breadth from death myself, allowed to ride along only because I was ‘tolerated’… and I felt victorious.

It would be interesting to see what happened next. All I had to do now was take on the ‘Cuda and win and maybe then it would be over… maybe by then, Jim would have all he needed and Kel and B and Stacy and I could go back to living our lives in some semblance of normalcy…

I pulled up and the crowd ran to the car, most of them cheering and yelling… many pointing… some holding back and shaking their heads as if in disbelief… Frankie slowed and stopped, I pushed the shifter back into park and let him idle a moment before shutting him down…

God… it was so quiet! (It seemed that way, anyhow…)

I unbuckled as Kelly ran up. I pulled the door release and slid out off the vinyl seat and stood up, many people slapping my back and a cacophony of questions were hurtled towards me…

“What IS that car?” “How much power does it make?” “How big IS that motor?”

I just grinned and hugged Kelly, seeing B and Stacy beside us. I could see Bill over talking to Cy as he was exiting the Plymouth. Bill did NOT look happy but he DID have the title in his hand…

Kelly whispered in my ear…. “No sign of Jim yet….”

I looked around and had to agree. Still – no sign of him. I had to admit I was definitely getting more concerned. But then again, maybe he was waiting to make sure I actually DID win the last race? I just did not know…

Bill and his gang walked over at this point… he handed the signed title of the MOPAR over to me and I just gave it to Kelly.

“Nice run, Steve. But that Road Runner isn’t half the car of that ‘Cuda. You still wanna run the last one?”

I just stared into his cold eyes, looking to see if he was wavering just a little. Nothing but cold determination looked back.

“Sure Bill. But I think the bigger question is, ‘Are YOU ready?’”

“Let’s go Steve. I think its time you and I finally had a rematch… but THIS time, it won’t be me who ends up in flames… if you know what I mean! Hahahaha!!!”

He headed over to where the ‘Cuda was parked and opened the door. I kissed Kelly again and whispered “See you in a minute” in her ear, and pulled the door back open on the GSX.

As I swung the door open, I noticed a couple of black long-wheelbase vans pulling up on the far side of the crowd. They did not have any markings at all, nor could you see in the heavily tinted windows. No front plates were visible but there were several antennae bristling from the roofs of both vehicles. No doors opened, no one got out, and the drivers shut them off, leaving the parking lights on…

I thought it was odd and I hoped that maybe they were Jim’s group but I knew his department did not have vehicles like these. My best guess was that they were possibly some connections with Bill but at the moment, I did not have a chance to think about it.

It was time to race…

Looking back, I should have known who was driving those vans. I HAD seen them before – but in a completely different setting… If I had remembered that one single thought, I would have known for sure that they definitely were NOT with Jim….

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

34

I had a weird feeling after seeing the vans pull up… I’m not sure why other than at the time, I just could not recall where I had seen those vehicles before. But regardless, I did not have time to think about it – I had to focus on what would be one of the biggest races of my life.

The crowd was heavy around the ‘Cuda as it fired off and warmed up. The car was absolutely wicked sounding and the huge Hemi beneath the hood growled and spat ferociously. Even though Frankie was equally vicious, I had to admit (to myself at least) that I was worried about this one.

Running the Road Runner, I really had not worried at any point – for me, it was really a matter of how much Frankie would win by.

But this ‘Cuda was another story…

I knew it had what used to be a 528 ci Hemi that had been heavily worked over. It sounded like a Pro-mod car with a cam that had lobes the size of grapefruits. The idle on the car was fairly high, most likely due to the enormous lift and duration specs. It wasn’t a ‘lope’ so much as the sound of small cannons firing in no particular order. The exhaust on the car had to be pretty much open even though it did have pipes clear to the rear – it was darned impressive and intimidating at the same time.

In seconds, we were both heading into the front of the burnout area just ahead of the start line. I noticed some girl with a flash light was waving us to hold up, so we both stopped. Bill’s Cuda was to my left and again, I was on the right, just like I like to race.

I think I had seen her with Shawn/Jonah or one of the other guys earlier but with so many people swirling about, I just was not sure. As Bill and I stopped, she walked over to his window first and then came around the front of his car to mine. I opened the door to talk to her.

“I’m going to flash this light twice” she said. On the first flash, you need to be ready because the second flash is ‘GO’, sort of like a pro-tree. Got it? Ready on one, go on two. OK?”

Up close, she was beautiful and had a gorgeous smile. It was distractingly hard to keep focused on what she was saying – but, I got it. I nodded yes.

“So, you guys do your burnouts or whatever and once you are in position I will point at you. If you are ready to go, nod your head. I will do that for both drivers and once you both have said you’re ready, I will pull the light up and aim it between you. You should have no trouble seeing it. Remember – two flashes, go on the second. Ok?”

I nodded yes again, she smiled back and turned away and I closed the door. She was very thorough and professional – not just gorgeous. Obviously, she had been around a street race or two…

I cinched the buckles tight on the harness and on my helmet as I watched her walk back to the front of both cars… I could already hear the Cuda being revved a couple of times in anticipation – even with the doors closed and my helmet on, it was nearly deafening…

We both did our burnouts at nearly the same time. Someone had poured water on the tarmac just for that purpose so in we went…

Both cars roared angrily in the night… the crowd stood silent and just watched, the anticipation thick enough to cut with a knife… thick, white billows of smoke poured out from beneath both cars and slowly wafted off towards the left side of the track…

After the burnout, I zoned in on what I had to do… I knew this was going to be a tough race. I just did not know how tough…

I pulled forward while trying to keep Frankie reined in… the enormous surges from the power beneath the fiberglass hood jerked my head. To say I had control would be lying – it was all I could do to not let him go and I knew that the brakes were fighting a lot of low end torque…

I thought back to the last time I had raced Bill. It had ended in a fiery crash and I was sure he was killed… cold sweat was on my neck now… how did it come down to this?

It seemed like years ago that we had run into each other at Tri-county, challenges were made… a race was getting set up to run with Pink’s filming it… where did the time go?

My head was spinning… I watched the girl…

Now, I was waiting to race this guy with the possibility of losing Frankie… I wasn’t fooling myself now. The Cuda was serious… and serious cars deserve serious respect. For some strange reason, I felt an emotion I had not felt a long time…

FEAR…

Part of that was because I could not figure out where Jim and his deputies were. He had MORE than enough to nail Bill, Cy, Jonah/Shawn, and the rest of the gang on grand theft auto and who knew what OTHER charges might be available… but he was nowhere in sight?...

I was at the line now. The transbrake was engaged and all I had to do was mat the throttle up against the converter… to my left, I could hear the Cuda bellowing loudly in the dark night. It looked squat and evil and I could see the body shake with each pulse of power…

What was up with the vans? I was racking my brains trying to figure out how they might be involved in the equation… They were behind me now and out of my line of sight but still, I could not connect them with anything yet I was certain they were there for a reason. Most likely, not a good one…

Focused completely on the light now…

There! One blink…

I matted the accelerator and Frankie lurched as the immense torque felt like it was trying to twist the car over… I heard the Cuda do the same…

The tiniest bead of sweat trickled down my neck beneath my shirt… my left hand was tightly on the wheel… the right was on the transbrake switch… and Frankie was in for the fight of his life on this one…

Once again, time slowed to a crawl… a second felt like an hour…

I was staring at the light, waiting…

Waiting…

The big block shuddered and rocked beneath the hood, trying to rip the motor mounts loose…

BLINK!

Immediately, I released the transbrake and Frankie was loose. To my left I heard an enormous roar from the Hemi as it too was now free to wreak havoc…

Once more, the nose of the Buick lurched toward the sky. People told me later that the Cuda matched the wheel stand but touched down a little sooner.

And that was where it gained an advantage… when Frankie touched down, the Cuda already had half a fender on the GSX and was pulling strong.

But now that Frankie had all four wheels back on the ground, he was really pissed… while the Cuda was not pulling away, Frankie was trying to claw back up to at least equal… I could not tell – it was all I could do to hang on. The shifts were neck snapping brutal… I knew all the carbs were drinking in bucket-fulls of night air and mixing it with the high octane in the tank… and yet, Frankie wanted more…

I looked over only once, probably shortly ahead of the eighth mile, and it felt even from my perspective… but I knew I was not pulling him either…

The Cuda hung tight and the finish line was coming fast… there was no way I could tell who was leading – or, if either one of us actually had a lead at all.

The last shift hammered home and it was all over now except for the ride…

Cars and lights and trees and pavement slid buy in a liquid blur… faster, faster, faster…

And in an instant, it was over. But I could not tell who won.

At the end of the track as we neared the turn, Bill flashed his lights and stopped, leaving the Cuda shaking violently as it idled. He jumped out and ran over to my window as I stopped. Not sure what he might be up to and knowing that NO one was nearby, thoughts of violence crossed my mind…. He neared my window and I opened the door.

“Who won?” was all he said.

I held up my hands in the “I don’t know” gesture. He nodded his head and then leaned down and spoke something that really, really stunned me.

“Keep your eyes open when we get back up front. Some black vans showed up and I think something is about to go down. You’ve been warned…”

I could not see his face but his words made my blood run cold. ‘You’ve been warned’? What the hell did THAT mean? He brought up the vans – what could that mean? He must know who is driving and my guess was that it could not be good….

The Cuda pulled away quickly and I followed. Numerous people waved and gave thumbs ups as we drove by but I had no clue who they were waving at. Apparently they thought one of us won but I sure could not verify it.

As we got to the front, all looked the same as when we left. Cy was on his phone and the gang was all standing near as if trying to hear what he was hearing. I had heard another race and saw the cars flash by as we were coming back up but I didn’t know who it was.

Until I got back. I found out it was Brandon, ripping some poor guy driving a nasty ’70 SS454 Chevelle a new one. As I was stepping out of the car, B was pulling in behind me and Stacy and Kel were running up. People were all over B’s car and the GSX, slapping me on my back and cheering.

But – so were the people around Bill’s Cuda.

It was obvious that NO one knew who won. And just as Kelly reached up to pull me near, all hell broke loose - over by the black vans. So many lights were going flashing and high powered search lights that seemed to come from nowhere lit up the night sky.

There were screams and cries, curses and threats…. From behind the woods two helicopters leaped skyward, their giant nose mounted searchlights dancing all over the ground in 40’ diameter blazes of white light.

“FREEZE!!! NO ONE LEAVES THE PREMISES. YOU ARE SURROUNDED!”

It had to be Jim! YESSSSSSSSSSS! F-i-n-a-l-l-y!!!!!

I grabbed Kelly’s arm but just as I did, I saw Bill reaching into the Cuda and pulling something long and sinister from behind the seat. Cy and the rest were racing towards him now, confusion all over their faces, screaming something at Bill and not knowing what to do….

And that was when Bill leveled some sort of scoped assault rife at them and yelled something that we could not hear. What ever it was, it made them stop dead in their tracks with fear on their faces.

My God, I thought as Kelly turned her head away… I was about to witness someone getting killed.

And at the same time, two enormous men in dark suits, both of them brandishing what looked to be machine pistols broke through the crowd with someone in cuffs between them. Who ever they had in tow had a dark hood pulled over his head and could not see where he was going.

But it looked clear to me they were coming right at us. I saw them look over towards Bill and nod. Bill raised his rifle and pulled off three shots in the night air which in turn froze EVERYONE in place. Immediately, he lowered the gun on Cy and the gang.

What was bedlam and mayhem before became quiet as a ghost town. The races that happened just moments ago seemed like from another lifetime.

Bill pointed at me and motioned for me to get down. To make sure I complied, he seemed to wave the gun in our direction and yelled it – “GET THE F*CK DOWN, NOW!”

We didn’t argue. He had the guns, Jim was nowhere to be seen (WTF?) and it looked like some extremely heavy hitters were about to do a record car theft out in the middle of nowhere.

Where the hell were Jim and the deputies????

As Kel, B, Stacy, and I squatted down, I noticed that some of the lights flashing looked like they might be from sheriff’s cruisers. Yet – no JIM?

While before I felt some fear, now I was totally confused. Who were THESE guys?

It was then I noticed that the three men were near.

“Stand up, please” one of them said. I wasn’t sure he was talking to me so I did not move.

“You guys – with the GSX and the Shelby - stand up…”

No doubt who he was talking to now…

As I stood, Kelly and the rest did also. The three guys from before (including who ever was obviously being held against his will) waited but did not speak.

Then, another man in a suit walked up, holding a powered megaphone in his hand. He was wearing sunglasses, just like the other two – in the night time no less – and just stood there for a few seconds. He lifted the megaphone…

“No one leaves, got it? Not until I say you can leave. And if anyone TRIES to leave? I can assure my friends down by the road will not be happy to see you. You need to wait until I and I alone tell you it is ok to go. GOT IT?”

We could hear the crowd murmur something like, “Got it…” but regardless, no one was moving.

No identification. Nobody we knew. And definitely not Jim or any other deputy was nearby. Feelings of complete powerlessness gripped us all.

“I want you four to come with us.”

That was it. He turned on his heel and walked away.

Big guy #2 (or was it #3?) spoke.

“Do what he says.” He nodded to emphasize our need to follow the person obviously in charge.

Which, we did. The crowd parted as we neared the black vans and it was then a light bulb went on in my head. I could not speak but immediately, I knew who we were probably dealing with…

Just then and as he neared the first black van, the man in charge stopped abruptly and turned to face us. I could see the side door was open on the van but no lights were on so I couldn’t tell what was inside – but I was pretty sure it wasn’t pastries.

“Clear this area around the van and give us some privacy” said the man in charge. Immediately, more men in suits appeared as if from nowhere brandishing equally menacing weaponry. In seconds, the area was clear but the people outside the area looked in, trying to see what was going on…

“Go get the others.” He barked again. With that order, the men who had just cleared the area went over and motioned for Bill and those he had covered with his assault rifle to come over as well. In no time, Bill – along with Cy and the rest – were standing nearby.

I now desperately hoped my earlier hunch was right…

And if I was wrong? Well, we were all about to take a ride somewhere none of us wanted to go… and, maybe never return from…


To be continued…

[honduh_head]

35


As we all looked on helplessly, I noticed another man getting out of the farthest van. Like the other two, this one was in a dark suit. Unlike the other two, he did not have on sunglasses. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see he was dark complected – or, he liked to tan like George Hamilton.

*It’s funny what weird crap your mind thinks of when you’re staring at the possibility of dying, isn’t it?*

As the new guy got closer, I saw him pull his lapel up to his face and say something. Almost instantaneously, the choppers overhead shut down the enormous search lights, dipped to the south and then sped off into the distance. Oddly, I noted that they did not have any illumination at all and that they pretty much disappeared in the dark sky once the search lights were off.

Apparently, we were looking at the king pin now….

Once more – just out of ear shot – he pulled his lapel close to his mouth and said something indiscernible. Then, he walked over to the guy with the loudspeaker, whispered something in his ear and then turned to look at us as loudspeaker guy began to bark.

“YOU OUTSIDE OF THIS ZONE MUST NOW LEAVE – IMMEDIATELY. YOUR FAILURE TO OBEY THIS ORDER WILL REQUIRE THAT WE TAKE MORE DRASTIC MEASURES. LEAVE NOW OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES…”

I don’t think the word ‘consequences’ was even completely off his lips before we heard cars starting up, saw people nearly running to others, and within seconds, a stream of red tail lights headed out and off the property… for some odd reason I thought of the old “Rats jumping off the sinking ship” phrase…

*Yet another odd, ‘Why did I just think of THAT?’ moment…*

Kelly was shivering by now. And, I must admit it – I was more than a little concerned about our plight as well. We had nothing to go on other than what we thought was a perfect plan had obviously backfired since Jim was nowhere to be seen nor were any of his deputies.

And still, we had two thugs holding someone captive with a hood over his/her head, all kinds of firearms being brandished, two dark vans filled with who knew what, choppers that had just left and to top it all off, no visible assistance.

Sheesh… how much worse could it get?

We were about to find out…

Just then, yet another van pulled up and parked over by the others. Out of it came 5-6 more guys in suits and one guy NOT in a suit but who I thought I recognized…. I did! It was the guy who had wired Kel and me up with the listening devices.

WTF??? How in the hell was HE connected to this? On top of him just being there, I could see he had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder too because I could see light glinting off the dark steel barrel that was swaying as he walked over to the man-without-sunglasses and stopped, his arms crossed as he just looked silently at all of us.

It now appeared that the leader (at least for now) was the man without the sunglasses…

He walked on over to our small group and stopped almost directly in front of Kelly and me. He then reached inside his jacket and pulled out what looked to be several papers that were folded but that he quickly unfolded and began to scan. One of his minions now stood behind him holding a small MagLight illuminating the paperwork.

“Identify yourself”, he barked at me.

I did not like his tone of voice.

“Why?” I asked – which of course caused Kelly to nearly shut off blood circulation in my arm she was gripping. I was tired by now and really tired of all the drama… I guess I wasn’t thinking but hey, I thought we deserved some answers. Sometimes you never know until you ask.

I was equally surprised that he began giving us some.

“Are you Steve Morton?”, he asked without any expression.

“Yes.”

“And is this woman with you, Kelly Morton?”

Kelly spoke this time… ‘Yes, I am Kelly.”

He looked back down at the papers, pulled a pen from his pocket and made some marks on the top sheet.

“Do you know this guy?” He nodded towards the man in the hood being held – obviously against his will – by the two big thugs with the machine pistols.

“I can’t answer that, pal. I can’t see his face.”

I noted that the techie who had wired us was looking at us stone faced. Off to his side, Bill had his gun lowered on Cy, Mort, and the rest of what I thought were Bill’s group.

A cold chill now crept up my spine as I began to figure this out. Somebody was getting double crossed this night and now I had put Kelly, Brandon and Stacy smack dab in the middle of it.

Damn!

However, I could not have been more wrong AND yet right at the same time. I just did not realize who it was who was getting punked in a very, very bad way.

“Who are you?” I asked, hoping the chill running down my spine did not crack my voice.

“Who I am is of no importance to you. Who THIS guy is however may really interest you…”

He smiled in a very cold, calculating way.

“Remove his hood!”, he barked at the two gorillas.

At first, I could not tell who it was when the hood was whisked off. Whoever the guy was looked like he might have put up some sort of fight because his face looked like it was swollen and bruised. But then, in yet another horrific turn of events I knew who it was as did B, Kel, and Stacy because they all gasped when they recognized the battered face.

It was Jim.

And it looked like Jim could barely stand.

Oh… my… god…

I felt Kelly’s grip nearly drop completely and I reached to steady her. She was now shaking even more than before… we were all speechless… Any thought of getting out of there was not gone. If Jim was in this shape and in their hands, the Calvary was NOT coming.

*Yet another odd thought now leaped into my brain… it was an old saying that I had heard my father say many, many times but for some bizarre reason not raced through my head. He used to say, “Keep your friends close – but your enemies closer…” And he would always add – “And make damned sure you KNOW who your friends are…”*

I was about to truly learn who my real friends were right then and there…

To be continued...

[honduh_head]

36


So… we were now obviously in a very, very bad way.

Jim was captive to what had to be a very powerful criminal element, most likely connected to who ever was involved in the overseas commerce concerning illegally garnered vehicles. It’s no secret that auto theft is a multi-billion dollar industry. The movie “Gone in 60 Seconds” only scratched the surface of what truly IS a problem in this country and beyond our borders... And now, in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of night, we were face to face with the kind of people who deal in this trade.

I had no idea how these guys had kept Jim’s deputies away but after seeing Jim’s face, I guessed that they must have forced him to tell them to stand down in some manner. But – that logic was flawed by the presence of Rob, the tech guy who had wired us. HE was on Jim’s side, or so I had thought. But now, it definitely was clear he was NOT with Jim at all.

Strangely, I did not see the forest for the trees… ”And make DAMN sure you KNOW who your friends are…”

“Mr. and Mrs. Morton?”

The leader broke my random train of thought…

“Yes?”

“I think it’s about time to let you know what is going on here.” *I just HATE it when people pause for effect, don’t you?* I just nodded. I think I heard B or someone murmur a “Uh-huh” but I wasn’t sure…

“Before I tell you what’s happened here tonight, I want to fill you in on something. If you remember only one thing from tonight’s events, remember this….” He paused again…

“Remember that often, things are NEVER what they seem and people are often NEVER who you think they are. Got it?”

We nodded again, most likely in unison…

“Let me give you an example…. This man before you - this man who obviously is not having a good night – is a man who you think you know very well, right?”

We just were listening now. To hell with nodding….

“Most of you know him as the Sheriff of your county. Well let me tell you this – he no longer is the law around here… let’s just say that for now, I am the law.”

Cold fear now crept around my brain.

We could now easily see our breath in the cold night air… small white vaporous clouds were being exhaled and it was easy to see who was holding their breath… He continued… but in a different vein.

“You’ve met my associate over here, right? You THINK you know HIM as Bill Reynolds, correct?” He nodded towards Bill and Bill just nodded his head in affirmation.

“So?” Somehow, I found my voice.

“Well, Steve… that man is not Bill Reynolds either. He works for me. And on top of that, he is one of the best at what he does.” Ok…. Where was he going with this?

“You may think you know this man here, right?” He nodded in Rob’s direction.

“You may know him as someone named Rob who you were told works for Jim as a Surveillance Officer, right?” More silence…

“Well, Rob works for me. And of course, Rob is NOT his real name either but one of his specialties IS surveillance equipment – along with clandestine information gathering. But that’s no surprise, now is it Steve?”

I shrugged my very heavy shoulders… I felt even more tired now and I was really, really worried for Kelly, Brandon and Stacy. What had I gotten us all into?

“Well, Steve, who do you think I am?” He didn’t give me time to answer… but I had to admit to myself that, at this point, I had no friggin’ clue who he was…

“I’m guessing you are thinking I’m a very powerful guy in the underworld, right?” I nodded yes….

“Well, in a way, I guess I am. But that’s only because those in organized crime fear me and my people very much…” He almost chuckled with that remark, I noted.

“Steve, Kelly, Brandon, Stacy – yes, I know who all of you are. Some of my associates have been – shall we say – ‘observing’ you for some time now.” Now, fear was gone in an instant – I was PISSED. “Observing” us? Who the hell does he think he is?

But then, I realized he was the one with the men who had very powerful guns…. And, who had beat Jim’s face to a pulp. Or at least the guy I thought was Jim??? Good heavens – who was WHO???

He walked on over and stood directly in front of me now.

“Steve, who I am in name is truly of no importance to you. If you wish, you may call me Mr. Smith. But I am about to show you some identification that will answer SOME of your questions right now…”

He reached into his breast pocket again and pulled out a small leather object that looked to be about the size of a wallet. Opening it, I saw light reflect off something that appeared to be gold. It was a badge. As he handed it to me, MagLight guy shined it on the badge. Kelly leaned in as B and Stacy moved over to see what I was now holding…

This is what it looked like and what it said upon it…



The FBI? WTF???

He saw the weird looks on our faces and continued…

“I am sorry for what you all went through tonight but regrettably, it was very necessary. I am – as far as you need to know – Special Forces Agent John Smith with the Department of Justice, FBI. I am the chief enforcement officer of a very low profile Law Enforcement team of the Department; sort of the CIA if you will but much more efficient and those bumblers...”

Some sort of inter-agency inside joke I guessed?... He continued…

“My other associates here are fellow agents and for the last year and a half, we have been gathering evidence in a very, very big part of organized crime’s involvement in auto theft and transportation of said autos across state lines and out of the country as well….”

The FBI???? THAT explained the vans!

“Your friend, Jim – if you still consider him such – is really no friend at all. Actually, we have evidence that will prove he is actually one of the highest ranking members of an inter-state ring of car thieves with international connections, all involved primarily with garnering cars via illegal street races and arranging to have them shipped out of state and out of country.”

My mind was torn to shreds… Jim? Sheesh!

“Actually, Jim and two of his former deputies – and I emphasize the word ‘former’ – were directly involved in the recent theft of a truck and trailer that I know you have heard about.”

Not JIM???? He must have seen me glance at Jim, or rather, the swollen face of a man I knew as Jim.

“Oh, and before you ask about Jim’s face. Let me say this…. Jim did not want to cooperate with us when we tried to take him into custody. Actually, to say he ‘Resisted Arrest’ would be a massive understatement – he shot one of my agents before we could subdue him and even then, he put up quite a fight. Regrettably, his face kept hitting one of my agent’s enforcement batons before he finally yielded. He’ll be ok… but it’s going to sting for some time.”

He grinned at that one…

“Ok, Agent ‘Smith’ or whatever your name is… why this? Why tonight? And where are the deputies?” I felt a little more bold now.

“Good questions, Steve.” It was ‘Bill’ who spoke now. “I can only say so much but here’s what I CAN tell you…”

“This group of people we’ve been trying to nail are very deeply imbedded in organized crime. They are very good at what they do and make no mistake, they are ruthless people. Jim, despite what you may think you know about him, was using YOU, Steve, to get some very desirable cars for one of their customers. One car he needed was on the trailer Agent Smith told you about. And this is going to knock your socks off, Steve…”

Hmmm?

“Another car that I have proof he had pre-sold for nearly $800,000 dollars to an overseas contact is your very Buick GSX. Regardless what you think might have happened tonight, Steve - Jim’s plans was to leave here tonight with your car, no matter what it took to get it.”

He let that sink in… to say we were stunned would have been an enormous understatement.

“Actually, Steve, if past experience is any indication, Jim would have had you – shall we say? – ‘taken out of the picture’ to get your car. Jim had told you he was your back up, right? That he was trying to nail the Reynolds’ gang and others?’

I nodded again, my head spinning much too fast to absorb what I was hearing…

“Well, partly that was correct. He wanted to nail me - along with Cy and Mort - but what he did not know was that I was a plant for the DOJ. Cy and Mort were eventual targets for Jim’s group… it was simply a matter of time. Cy and Mort and the others are actually with another crime family that is linked to scores of thefts and even a few murders. We actually were able to keep Cy and his bunch alive but just barely.”

Agent Smith spoke. We were reeling inside.

“Steve, this is really too much to absorb – I know that. But tonight had to be the night because we needed to have everyone in one place and most of all, I needed to make sure I had my teams here too. Had we not been able to coordinate this or if Jim’s group had been successful, things would have turned out very dark for everyone at the center. Sure, most of the people here are just auto enthusiasts. But not these guys, Steve. Jim and his kind – Mort, Cy, Billy, and so forth – they are very bad, bad people.

Again, I apologize for what you’ve been through because to be honest, we’ve let you be bait. But I can assure you – we were looking out for you. Bill – there’s one other thing too I almost overlooked – do you want to tell him?”

Bill grinned.

“You mean about the race?”

Agent Smith smiled and nodded an affirmative nod.

“Yes”

Bill walked over closer.

“Steve, those guys in the choppers have some very interesting technology, including radar-like equipment that can do much more than most people realize. The lead chopper was far enough away that he couldn’t be heard but he watched our race and knows who won.”

With the grin on his face, it didn’t look to be good news.

“So, who won, Bill?”

He glanced around and then focused back in on me, our eyes locked.

“You did, Steve. Fair and square. Your Buick won by less than two-one-hundredths of a second. And when I asked you at the end of the track about who won? I knew – those clowns in the chopper had already radioed the information to my ear piece. Bastards…”

He let that sink in as he smiled some more...

“So, I guess I should give you these…”

He handed me a set of keys. The fob had a chrome Pentastar emblem that said “MOPAR” beneath it.

“The ‘Cuda is yours, Steve. The Department was just going to destroy it anyways but hey, you won the race, the car is yours.”

Kelly, B, and Stacy were now as shocked as I was!

“To make it clear, the FBI does NOT condone street racing, ok? So, the next time you and I race, it will be on the track. Remember our challenge a while back, Steve? Remember – we were going to race and Pink’s crew was planning on being there?”

OMG – I had nearly forgotten that!

“Yes, I DO remember that Bill – or, whatever your name is! Are we still on for that?”

He smiled. And to add to the surreal feel of the moment, so did the two holding the machine pistols.

“Oh, it’s still on Steve. It’s definitely still on for sure. But at least it will have a different feel, right?”

He stuck out his hand to shake mine. I took it and we shook hands….

“Congratulations Steve. And on behalf of the Department, thank you.”

A flood of emotions washed over me as well as everyone else standing there. I truly did not know what to say…

“Thanks, Bill. I guess you’re not such a jerk after all!”

We all laughed, even while we watched Jim, Cy, Mort, and the others being cuffed and stuffed into the vans while being read their Miranda Rights.

“I’ll be in touch, Steve, about the race. And I know the department will need you and Kelly, possibly your friends too, to give your statements and depositions at some point. Plus, you will most likely be subpoenaed to testify assuming this goes to trial, ok?”

“Bill, you can count on it. And yes, let me know about the race. I’ve got a trick or two still up my sleeve…”

He grinned as Kelly pulled close again, the smell of her hair now in my nostrils…

“Oh, Steve… and do I have something for you too, my friend!”

We shook hands again as well as with Agent Smith and some other lesser agents.

It was over….

“Well, what do we do now, Steve?”

Leave it to Brandon to always get us back to the moment…

I looked down at Kelly and gave in to the urge to kiss her. It was the best kiss ever and it made the night air feel not nearly as cold…

“Well, how about we go get a bite to eat. Can Stacy drive your Shelby? I’ve got a few cars to get home!”

Oh yeah… it’s GREAT to know who your REAL friends are.



To be continued...

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part XXXVII

The smell of fresh coffee and bacon stirred me from my sleep… still a little groggy from the late night, as I sat up in bed it all came flooding back to me. Honestly? It still did not seem real.

But it was. It was as real as it gets.

I got up and walked over to the one bedroom window; the one that you can see the back garage and drive from and sure enough, there sat the Cuda out on the tarmac. Over on the dresser were the keys and seeing them made me remember the smile on Brandon’s face after he hopped out of the car in my drive, shaking his head and saying, “Man, I can DEFINITELY be a MOPAR fan with THIS car! It’s sick, sick, SICK!”

This, in turn, made me appreciate what a handful Frankie can be... Both of them are cars you would not want to lose focus on for a second or you may not live to tell about it.

Still, my favorite will always be the GSX… there’s just something particularly nasty about that car.

“Are you up, Steve?” It was Kelly and she had just stuck her cute little face in the doorway. “Breakfast is ready whenever you are!”

She smiled and that was when I noticed she was wearing one of my long sleeved shirts again for a night gown.

This also meant there probably wasn’t anything else on under it… whew… I guess it was going to be a great morning after, after all.

“I’ll be right out!” Figured I should at least acknowledge the beautiful girl’s intentions, right? Making a quick dash to the master bath, I washed up and headed back in the bedroom. Man, I LOVE the smell of a home cooked breakfast first thing in the morning, don’t you? Even if I was a little drained, man - what a night....

I pulled on my sweats and walked out into the kitchen, the bright morning sunlight making her all the more desirable. She was at the counter pouring orange juice and I walked up behind her and gave her a hug. She reached back up over her neck with one arm and hugged me back while I kissed her neck.

“Oh, so THAT’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” she twirled in my arms and planted a really nice kiss on my lips.

“Well, Mr. Racer, you have to eat your breakfast because I spent a lot of time creating these dishes over a hot stove, just for you.” She said all that with a wicked twinkle in her eye as she pulled herself into me, leaning up to kiss again, this time – it was one of those ‘breakfast might have to wait’ kisses. You know; the kind that said that, while you might THINK you are in the lead, SHE is the one who will be taking you where you always like to go… which is usually the case but hey, who’s complaining?

But just as quickly as my hopes began to rise, she broke free, poked my nose with her finger and sat down at the table, all the while smiling wickedly. As she reached for the plate with the eggs on it, she spoke…

“Come on and eat, Steve. We’ve got plenty of time to play later…”

Oh well… women. Just when you think you know where they’re going, you realize you are at least 180* off.

Just as I begrudgingly pulled my chair out to sit down, the phone rang. It was only then I noticed the clock – it was only 8:30! We had barely got 5 hours of sleep… no wonder I was so tired.

“Hello?” I hoped my voice sounded like Barry White but I was pretty sure that it probably sounded more like Barry Manilow’s since my head still wasn’t 100% clear . On TOP of that, Kel’s shirt was now hanging half open given me an eyeful of one of my favorite toys while she began to dish out the food. Dang-it! Just when I was trying to forget out that too…

But, a woman’s voice on the phone jerked me back to reality as Kelly noticed where my eyes were aimed and playfully pulled the shirt a little more open.

Distractions… dayum...

“Good morning, Mr. Morton. Will you hold the phone, please, for a call from Speed Channel? I have Mr. Rich Christensen from the Pinks show and will connect him now if you are ready and can take the call?”

Wow! I guess Bill was right after all!

“Sure, I will be glad to talk to him.”

Still not quite Barry White’s voice yet but much better than the “Copa Cabana” voice from a moment ago. I held my hand over the phone and mouthed the words “Speed Channel- Pinks” to Kelly who then decided this would be a GREAT time to completely unbutton her shirt to help my concentration.

OMG… what is a man to do?

Then - I heard a click and there he was.

“Mr. Morton, Rich Christensen here. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Hi, Rich. Sure. What can I do for you? Oh, and please – just call me Steve, ok?” Kelly pushed back from the table a bit, a piece of toast in her hand as she pulled the shirt completely open and posed, all of her glorious attributes in full view now… her thighs slightly parted….

I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead… And I’m supposed to talk to Rich while THIS is going on? I tried to mouth “Quit it!” at her but based upon her reaction, she must have thought I said ‘Wider’ which is exactly what she did, all the while nibbling on her toast and smiling, knowing the torture I was enduring.

OMG….

“Sure Steve, no problem. A mutual friend of ours has been in contact with me for the past few months or so and he just called me again this morning. I believe you know him well from what he tells me. You do know Bill, right?”

“Oh yeah… I know Bill for sure.”

I could hear Rich chuckle. He sounded just like he does on TV.

“Well, Steve… we’ve got a race to set up and actually, I’ve got everything pretty much arranged for the most part. Some technical details to finallize but I can't really do that until I get a date and that's why I'm calling, assuming this is still a go for you.

"All I really need to know is what date works for you? At first, we thought about making it another Pinks All Out event or even just a regular Pinks episode but Nate and the gang think this might be an opportunity to do something even better. Here’s what I’m thinking…”

I tried to listen closely. Really, I did… but when Kelly got up and moved my plate back from the table, sat down where the plate was and motioned for me to look where she was pointing her fingers, I don’t know how much detail I got.

“So, what do you think, Steve? Would that work for you?”

“Uh… yeah… I guess so… huh? Oh, sorry… Hey Rich, how about I check with my wife and uh... call you back? What dates?”

“Any date you want Steve but it needs to be at least 60 days out to allow me to get the crews’ schedules arranged and the equipment moved to your local track. Plus, I want to do some heavy advertising because I think this show is going to set some new numbers for us. So, just call me back at this number sometime this week if possible, ok? Here’s the number…”

Kelly was laying back on the table on her elbows, her painted toe-nails glistening in the sunlight, and the shirt scrunched up beneath her. No doubt what she was in the mood to do now… All I could do was listen, try and scrible the numbers he gave me and stare...

“Got it Rich… I’ve gotta run but I will DEFINITELY get back to you, ok?”

“Sounds great, Steve. If I’m not here, just leave a message. You've got my personal cell phone so use it if you need to, ok? This is gonna ROCK, dude! See ya!”

*click* He was gone….

I hung up the phone and turned back to face Kel… her face was flushed but had a huge grin on it and I could tell her breathing was heavy.

“Ready for breakfast, Mr. Racer? Or would you rather have your dessert first?”

“Kelly, you KNOW I always eat my dessert first if it’s on the table…”

As I walked over, she looked up and asked so innocently… “So, what did the Speed Channel have to say?” all the while rubbing her left hand over her taut tummy and then lower... and lower…

I stopped for just a second and smiled down at my lovely wife.

“He said for me to have a nice day.”

She leaned up a little more. “And?”

I knelt down to kiss her once more.

“I intend to…” To hell with breakfast, I smiled and thought as I sat down on the chair in front of Kel…

I always HAVE been a dessert guy anyways…

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

38


The afternoon sun warmed up the garage bays fairly quickly. I was busy getting Frankie cleaned back up after the events of the previous evening when I heard a powerful V8 slowing down on the road out in front of the house.

Hmmm… sounded like it had an auto with a pretty stiff shift programmed into it. I figured it might be Brandon in some new toys since the guy buys a new toy more often than anyone I know.

Stepping out into the warm sun, I looked to my right expecting to see Brandon in some other new Ford vehicle. I would not have been surprised to see him pull up in some slammed out, way over the top, Ford Edge crossover running a blown 4.6 in it tubbed and slicked - but it wasn’t an Edge at all.

Hell, it wasn’t even a Ford. Nor, as I was to find out in a just a few moments, was it even Brandon.

As the car got closer, Kelly stepped out from beneath the hood of her GTO wiping her hands on an orange shop towel to join me.

“Recognize the car?” she asked.

“Can’t say I do, babe. Looks like an import though…”

The car was still abut a quarter mile away and based on the shape, I was guessing it was a Supra or something similar.

It wasn’t a Supra – it was a dark blue Nissan 350Z. But – behind it a little ways WAS a Supra. A dark red one to be exact… looked to be a mid-90’s model while the Z was definitely one of the last gen cars. Both were heavily modded, slung low, and sounded damn good, even for what many consider rice.

Me? I like ‘ricers’ but hate that name. For me, ANY car that is fast – and not being driven by some a**hole who thinks his job is to run down everyone else’s car – is fine by me. And if it outruns my car, no prob – there is ALWAYS someone faster.

These two cars looked to be a handful against most vehicles; they were heavily cammed and both sounded like they were running big turbos, maybe more than one – I couldn’t be sure yet. But no doubt these were serious performance vehicles.

And I LIKED what I saw and heard as they slowed and pulled into the drive. The Z looked like that gorgeous deep blue paint that reminded me of what many referred to as “Daytona Blue” but thankfully did not have any of that stupid gold ‘bling’ crap you see so many driving. The wheels were unlabeled but if were a betting man (and I am), I would have guessed that what the driver paid for them would have paid my mortgage payment for a few months. Brushed aluminum outer edge with highly polished center caps and black spokes. NICE….

The Supra was wearing solid black rims that complimented the deep red paint. It wore a non-stock hood but it wasn’t anything crazy – I could tell it was Carbon Fiber because it was unpainted but with the red paint, it worked. Again… NICE.

Both cars wore heavily tinted windows so I could not see the drivers. Both sat idling in my drive for about a minute as the drivers let them cool before shutting them off. The Z idled at a slightly higher rpm and sounded like it had cams in that had lobes the size of grapefruits, it was that rough. The Supra had a rough idle but its exhaust was deeper and a little throatier. There was no doubt that these were barely legal street cars, maybe even sub-10 second warlords.

Just then, I noticed a small decal in the lower right corner of each driver’s side window. It wasn’t huge or overbearing and didn’t announce what each car was like so many you see. (Doesn’t it just kill you to see someone driving a Camaro and plastered across the windshield is the huge word “CAMARO” – as if you had no clue it was a Camaro?)

This decal was different in every way. It was small (about 3” wide and 1” tall), had plain white lettering, and simply said, “Kong’s”. Hmmm… I thought that this was going to be an interesting story.

Kelly noticed the decals too and nodded her head at them. I figured the drivers were looking at us but hey, if they put them on there, they must have wanted them noticed.

It worked. We certainly noticed them.

Suddenly, the air was still once more as both cars shut down at nearly the same time. Still, a few seconds went by as Kel and I waited, nearer the Z than the Supra, for the drivers to open the door.

The low, blue door of the Z opened first… the smell of leather hung in the air, overpowering the scent of race gas (possibly tinged with some alcohol?) wafted off in the breeze. Out stepped a thin man who had to be at least 6’ tall; no one I had ever seen before. And just as he was getting out, the Supra’s door swung open and out of it stepped a black guy who was built like a Mack Truck.

Just then, we noticed the passenger side doors opening. Out of them stepped two women who easily could have been “Hooters” girls, if you know what I mean. NICE builds, short hair on the red head that was in the Z and shoulder length blonde hair on the taller girl out of the Supra. Kelly looked at me with a “Who are these people” look but I didn’t have a clue. But – I did know one thing…

These people are into cars and probably street racing. It should be an interesting conversation…

The guys stepped up and then Z-man extended his hand. In a surprising heavily British accent he introduced himself as we shook hands.

“Hello, Mr. Morton. I’m Nathaniel Moore and this is my dear old chum, Wesley Poston. Sorry to barge in on you this lovely afternoon but we would like to talk with you – and your wife of course – about something WE believe would be mutually interesting for all of us.”

Wesley stepped up and shook hands. “Sorry, Mr. Morton – Nathaniel sometimes forgets to introduce our birds. This is Deborah and the red head is Christine.”

Nathaniel’s face blushed and I saw the toothiest grin (with good teeth even!) that I’ve ever seen as he bowed in modesty.

“We’re all from across the pond as you say – yes, bloody old England actually – brought to the US on business a few years ago. Nathaniel and I are business partners and actually we found out about you through another mutual connection but I’ll go into that a bit later. Might we go inside and get out of this sun?”

“No problem, Wesley. This is my wife Kelly…” They all reached to shake Kel’s hand and it definitely looked like the four were decent people. But – you just never know…

“Follow me. We’ll go on into the kitchen.”

“Mr. Morton, if I – “

“Please, Wesley – and Nathaniel. Call me Steve; no reason to go all formal here is there?” I laughed and they immediately agreed with shaking there heads.

“Not to bother, Steve. If I might ask – is that black car over there the GSX we’ve heard about? The one you blokes call in a loving way ‘Frankenstein’?”

We paused for a moment. As we stopped, Wesley and Nathanial walked over to the front of Frankie and stopped. Wesley’s left arm was across his chest and his right elbow in his left hand, his right hand rubbing his chin as he studied the Buick’s lines. Nathaniel just stared, his arms crossed and his eyes caressing every curve and line on the black evil sitting quietly in the shadows….

I answered… “Yes. That’s my one of a kind GSX. How did you hear about it?”

They both were silent for a moment and then turned to join us.

“Oh, Steve…. I’m sure you know; word gets around about cars like this. Word definitely gets around…”

I wasn’t sure if I was comfortable with how Wesley answered that but figured I would let it go for now.

“Let’s get inside. I’ll grab some refreshments – a Cold beer? Sodas? What will you have?”

Ashley and Deborah spoke almost in unison, “Just water for me”.

Wesley, “How about a Coke?”

Nathaniel, “Nothing for me, Steve… just finished off a bottled water so I’m good.”

As we walked into the kitchen, I motioned at the table – thinking about the fun Kel and I had just had there a few hours ago – and they all took a seat. Kelly helped me get the drinks and some glasses with ice and we joined them after I grabbed another chair.

Taking a long sip of his Coke, Wesley spoke first.

“Steve, we had heard about the race last night and had made plans to attend. I believe that had the authorities not intervened in their splendidly American way, and had we gone, we – as you may have – would have lost our cars to some not-so-nice people. And actually, that is how we had heard about your GSX – rumors spread amongst the street racers, whether by word, internet forums, YouTube, and so forth.”

I never had given much thought to YouTube – I would definitely have to check that out. Wesley took another drink so Nathaniel took that as a cue for him to speak.

“What we’re getting to here, Steve, is that we heard about the Pinks show coming up. We would like to be involved if possible and were wondering if you have any info on how we might do so? We know the central theme will be the match between you and Bill’s car – a Charger is it? – but I think we’ve got some ideas that just might make it an even more, shall we say, competitive as well as interesting for the people watching.”

“Really?” I asked. “In what way?”

Wesley grinned at Nathaniel… sort of like a shark might grin if that was possible.

“Steve, we’re actually part of a team of racers. No, that’s not entirely correct – Nathaniel and I are the club leaders of a street racing team that is growing fairly quickly. We do not advocate street racing on public roads – although it happens – but we are all disappointed to see race tracks slowly disappearing. It’s even tougher over seas but at least here in America – and we are now citizens – we have a chance. That’s what this is all about – trying to revive drag racing sites around the country. Do we have your interest so far?”

Kelly and I nodded. “Sure, I’m listening – but how does this all connect back to the Pinks show? I mean – I can understand you wanting to race since you’ve obviously got some wicked cars. But what’s the connection?

Now, it was Nathaniel’s turn to shark-grin.

“Steve, first of all, we have a lot of money behind us. Our business – software security development which we have successfully sold to the U.S. and many other governments – has rewarded us greatly. We are prepared to assist with sponsoring the show by stepping up the prize money.”

Ok – MONEY talks. I’m sure Rich would be interested. I nodded for him to continue….

“Steve, Nathaniel and I are willing to offer an additional sum of $500,000 prize money to the show, to be paid out at Mr. Christensen’s discretion IF the three conditions we require are met.”

SHEESH! A half million dollars in prize money? WHY would ANYone want to donate that much money? It took just a second for me to remember – these were self-proclaimed business men. If they are going to invest – they are going to expect a return. What would that return be?

“Wesley – no one invests money for nothing, at least not in that amount. What are the conditions?”

“Well Steve, now that you’ve asked…. Here they are…”

We all pulled our chairs in close. It took Wesley and Nathaniel about ten minutes to explain the first two conditions. Kelly, with her legal background, kept nodding as if this was typical legal boilerplate. After Wesley finished the second one, she spoke.

“Well, guys… unless Speed Channel’s attorneys – or Rich – have some other reasons, I can’t imagine them not ripping your arm off for your sponsorship. But – what is the third condition?”

All of us sat back in our chairs. Wesley stood up and spoke, “I’ll be right back. I want to show you something so just wait here.”

He vanished out the kitchen door which offered me a chance to grab another Diet Coke from the fridge. I had no more than turned around and he was sitting back down with a manilla folder in hand.

“Look at this. Have you seen one of these on the streets?”

Opening the folder I could see glossy prints of what appeared to be the back end of a very low, black car with wide tires running at speed on a road track.

“Do you recognize the track, Steve?”
“No, Nathaniel, I can’t say I do. But I DO think that’s a ‘Vette isn’t it? The cloaking over it sort of hides it but I’m pretty sure it’s a ‘Vette.”

“Steve, that is indeed a Corvette. And it’s being driven on what is arguably the most famous test track in the modern world – The Nurburgring in Nurburg, Germany. This particular car, a reportedly factory production ZR1 set a new track record for its class of 7 minutes, 26.4 seconds, smashing the old record held by another fast Nissan, the GTR Skyline.”

“Ok, what is the connection with the show? Nice car but it’s a very limited production supercar. Enough money, we could have one of the – what, 100 or so they’re building? What’s the big deal?”

“Steve, we have one of the prototype ZR1’s in our stable of vehicles. As we are all aware, GM has undergone some, shall we say, ‘cash difficulties’ of late? Some of their toys were just recently sold via auction if I recall.”

He paused to let it sink in. Frankie might have company – bad, bad company – that was forged in the same angry spirit as he was. Ok…

“Well Steve, Nathaniel and I were fortunate enough to entice GM to part with the car – for a price of course - before destroying and it is sitting in a garage right now. Actually, neither he nor I own this beast even though we would like to – a club member does. But the interesting thing is that it is like your Frankie out there in your personal garage – it is a one-of-a-kind engineering marvel meant for only one thing – unrestrained, tempestuous, and unadulterated speed. It is a demonic orphan, Steve… we thought you might like to hear about it…”

“You’ve definitely got my ear, Wesley. Tell me more…”

“Ok, Steve. A standard ZR1 – is it even allowable to use ‘standard’ in describing today’s ZR1? – as hard as it is to imagine, is a tamed down version of the car in our garage, much like the GSX you own. As you well know, GSX’s that followed the trail of your car were actually quite the little kitten compared to yours, correct?”

I had to agree with him but still, the production GSX was no slouch.

“We think that it would be very interesting if we could talk our club member into coming out with the Vette. What do you think? Do you think that someone would be interested in running this Damien of the automotive world?”

They all sat back in their chairs, letting our imaginations run wild. Kelly looked at me and grinned.

“I’ll tell you what I think, gentlemen… I’m sure Steve or any other motorhead would give his right arm just to see that car on a track, much less have a chance to run it. What does it run? 10’s?”

That was when Christine spoke up in her equally charming British accent.

“I’m not sure, Mr. Morton. I’ve never actually had Kong on a strip with clocks yet.”




To be continued…

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part XXXIX




mm… so, ‘Kong’ was this girl’s car? Then, what did the “Kong’s” decal on the windows of the two cars mean?

They saw me trying to put 2+2 together.

Nathaniel leaned forward and smiled.

“Steve, here’s the situation… Kong is indeed what Christine calls her car. And yes, it is truly her car, bought with her own money. Wesley and I were only the intermediaries who had the connections within to make the deal.

And, to be brutally honest, Steve, she is the president of the car club she founded – ‘KONG’s’ – and of which we are members. Don’t let her smile and curves beguile you Steve – she is a fierce competitor and as knowledgeable about Software security AND drag racing as anyone we have working with us OR have ever met.”

Ok… my interest level continued to build as he continued.

“Here’s more… KONG’s is actually an acronym for King Of the Night Garage and Speed. Christine’s ZR1 – she likes to call him KONG like the huge ape of old - is a one of a kind factory freak, just like your GSX. But here is the interesting part – there are more cars like your Frankie, Steve…”

He now knew that he had Kel and me on the edge of our chairs. He not only had us hooked – we were already just floppin’ in the boat.

“C’mon, Nathaniel! What do you mean ‘more’?”

He sat back to pause for effect as Wesley took a long slug of his soft drink and spoke up.

“Steve - we have learned within the last year that there are actually several – but not many - of these rare and exotic animals around this wonderful country; one-off’s and development mules spared from destruction by enthusiasts. Do you actually think the 426 Hemi sold on the street did not have some wild development stories behind it? Or, that the 428 SCJ Ford just appeared out of nowhere? Or that the LS Series of big block Chevy’s seen in showrooms didn’t have some interesting history? Of course you don’t – just like we know the Buick 455 in the stock GSX’s had an evil and wicked father wedged between the frame rails of that black car of yours.”

Interesting was now an understatement. I honestly had not even thought about the possibility! Kelly’s expression mirrored mine – it had just hit her too.

It was Deborah’s turn to share some knowledge.

“Steve, I was actually the one who found out about Chris’s ZR1 and I did so by accident. You know how things work – you’re looking through Hemming’s or you’re talking to this person or that person and then one day, out of the blue, along comes that rare event that we like to all a “barn-find”.

Sort of like finding a ’67 Big Block Sting ray hidden under a tarp in some barn or out-building in the middle of New Mexico. Well, I was looking for a Vette for myself when I got a strange call one evening from a guy who told me he had heard I was looking for one. His 401K had pretty much been eroded away and his plans to retire were shattered unless he could find a way to make some cash. So, he told me he had this interesting Vette that he thought I should come take a look at.

So – I did. Turned out I didn’t have the coin to pay what he wanted but Chris did.”

“Deborah - was this guy on the original ZR1 development team?” I figured it had to be someone like old Dollar-Bill.

She smiled with beautifully perfect white teeth.

“No, but I’m not sure… and, I can not tell you who he is because I promised him I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why is that? He didn’t want to be hounded for info, etc?”

“It’s actually simpler than that, Steve.”

Pause…

“It’s because he said he has two other cars like the KONG ZR1 and he knows of at least 8 or 9 other similar people who also have cars like it and they prefer to keep them off the radar screens. To be honest, we’re not entirely sure how many are out there. There aren’t a lot – but there are definitely a few. Your ‘Dollar-Bill’ is one of those guys. I talked to him actually… and - guess what HE told me?”

I raised my eyebrows in the universally accepted expression for “And what is that?”…

“Your Dollar-Bill now has another GM freak that he just recently acquired. Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course… what does he have?”

“Bill now owns the TRUE first development GNX that it appears no one has ever heard about. And according to Bill, this GNX freak makes the famous 547 look like cute little kittens… He bought it from another Buick employee who needed to shore up his retirement fund...”

I sat back in my chair and glanced at Kelly. She was as shocked as me.

“Steve… this is amazing… imagine the possibilities!”

It made sense. And I can not believe that I didn’t think of this before. Why WOULDN’T there be other cars like Frankie out there? Sure, car manufacturers did their best to destroy test mules and often went to great lengths to assure the general public that they did not exist. But – if Frankie survived, that meant that there HAD to be others, didn’t it?!

SURE IT DID. The question is – just how many still existed today (and were running) and where were they?

I asked the same question out loud and Christine answered.

“Steve, we have visually verified that there are at least 5 other incredible freaks like your Frankenstein, including the GNX-prototype. And to be honest, that was when we first heard about you and your GSX – when we met Dollar Bill who told us he had sold the car a while back to you. So, one thing led to another and that began our quest…

Here is one interesting little tidbit – there is a 2003 Cobra development mule that I am not so sure KONG can handle… I have seen this car and heard it run and it would lay waste EASILY to any of the factory ZR1’s. The most interesting part of THAT car?”

“What?”

“It’s got a 6 Speed automatic transmission. Oh, Steve… you have no idea just as we had no idea when I first started looking for a Vette. Maybe it’s the economic times, I don’t know. But people really like to talk about cars once you get to know them, don’t they?”

I nodded my head, still mulling over the idea of a bad-ass Terminator with a Frankie-type mill being hustled by a six-speed auto…

“We’ve all heard about John Moss and his toys, about his counterpart at Ford, about Delorean and so forth… but the secrecy goes much deeper than anyone ever imagined… much deeper.”

It was all coming together…

“So that is what we are proposing, Steve. KONG’s Car Club will SOLELY arrange for as many of these freaks possible to see the light of day. We will put up a half million in prize money with a percentage of promotional fees and television rights paid back to us. And I am willing to put the title up for this ZR1 to anyone who can beat it with another freak, including your GSX. Honestly? I don’t think it’s possible but who knows?”

“Ok, but you never did tell us what your third condition was?”

Nathaniel and Wesley looked at each other and then over at the girls. And then, right at me… Wesley spoke next.

“Steve, we know the other guys with those special cars – at least the ones we’ve talked to so far - will probably not race their freaks for titles and I don’t blame them. But from what I’ve heard, you are a gambler of sorts, right? We want you to offer Frankie to who ever might beat it, including Christine and her ZR1.

Imagine the publicity for this night, Steve. Cars that millions of enthusiasts never dreamed of even existing being seen for the first time publicly…. Hearing them run, seeing them race… some of them being wagered… who knows – maybe we can talk one or two of them to put up THEIR slips too… We will follow Rich’s format and establish base times to make sure we’re not running an apple against an orange. But from what I’ve learned, I think that they all are fairly equal. IF you make it to the semis, you get fifty thousand dollars. If you go to the finals, you get seventy-five thousand dollars.

But if you win and are the last car standing, you will win AT LEAST $250,000 plus what ever other sponsors and Speed puts up – IF you have put up the title to your car to run. If you win but have not put up the title to run, you will still win $100,000 plus other prizes with the balance of our money going to a fund to support or upgrade the track – or tracks - of the winner’s choice.”

He let it all sink in…

“So, that’s it in a nutshell guys. What do you think? Do you think Rich will buy in? Do you think Speed Channel or even ESPN would like to broadcast this? Do you think the magazines will cover this? Can you IMAGINE what the pits would be like, what the vendor’s row would be like, what the concessions would make?”

Kelly and I sat and thought… and grinned. She beat me to the punch…

“How do we make this happen, Wesley?”

“Just give us your word that you will at least put up Frankie and that you will support this idea to Rich and to Speed Channel. We’ll take care of the rest once you let us know that Rich and his team are on board and of course we’ll have contracts. Kelly – we would like to retain you as our attorney to handle the contract issues if you don’t mind, ok?”

“No problem here.”

“And, we don’t want to take away from your grudge match with the Charger but I think this event here with the eight or ten cars we hope to muster can be the grand finale for the night or weekend… deal?”

I knew that ‘Grand Finale’ would be an understatement. Wesley stuck out his hand to shake as everyone stood as if on cue.

“You bet, Wesley, Nathaniel, ladies. Let’s make this happen…”

As we shook hands with everyone and watched them as they walked back to their cars, Kelly leaned up against me with her arm around my waist. The garage was cool and quiet.

“Steve, do you think this is a smart thing to do – you know, to take a chance on losing Frankie? I still think there are some unanswered questions…”

I knew where she was going. Kelly had the intuition of a fox and she was a little more conservative than me.

“Well, babe, I can’t say for sure. But I will say this – I know that Frankie is a pretty stout car. If putting up the title – which IS a risk – will bring out some more of his ‘family’ for some of the best racing we’ve never seen before, then I’m willing to take that risk…”

She hugged me warmly…. “Ok… I’m with you Steve.”

We listened and watched as the Supra and Z fired up and then drove away… For a fleeting moment, I recalled that I thought I had heard a V8 pulling up when they first arrived. I chuckled to myself standing there in the shadows of the garage... Things are often never what we first think, are they?

The air was noticeably cooler than when they first arrived but it was still a beautiful day. My mind raced with the possibilities of what we might get to see… of what the reported GNX development car might be… what other cars may be out there with one-of-a-kind drive trains designed, built, tested and then hidden away by factory corporate employees….

But - if only I had known that day what I know now… if only I had a clue…

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part 40

Several days had gone by and a lot of details had been wrapped up for the big night. Kellie and I, along with Rich Christensen, his brother Kale and the other execs at Speed had finalized the contract agreement for the race night. It was decided to promote it as “Pinks All Out Challenge - The Clash of Titans!” which everyone agreed was very appropriate. The qualifying runs would be on Friday and early Saturday, special guest racing (several NHRA class heavy hitters had already signed on for appearances) was going happen on Saturday night along with my grudge race against the Charger and then things would get super serious on Sunday with the money up for the taking for the freaks.

We also had decided to offer grudge racing Saturday afternoon if enough interest came in – and little we know how much interest we stirred up with THAT idea! Within 48 hours of posting that on the website (yep, Kellie along with Speed had set up a website for the challenge!), we had enough racers entered to fill the entire 4 hour slot. It was shaping up to be pretty much non-stop drag racing with something for everyone.

Rich and the guys and gals from Speed were especially excited about the sponsorship and prize money being put up by the KONG group. They had their contract already signed with the prize money escrowed.

$250,000 to win…. Incredible.

What had started out way back when as a simple grudge match between two guys had morphed into a spectacular weekend of racing with unbelievable interest. It had culminated into what was going to be the ultimate Sunday Musclecar showdown with Speed Channel tape delay broadcasting the Friday/Saturday highlights with live coverage of the Sunday Clash. ESPN 2 had also bought in and was going to tape delay broadcast the Sunday Clash later on Sunday night and two more times during the following week.

It was decided to qualify the racers in the style of “Pinks All Out” with everyone having to run flat out in at least two qualifying runs and then not break out of their established times by no more than a tenth of a second to eliminate the possibility of someone trying to pull a fast one. This method had worked extremely well for Pinks so far so we knew it would work again.

Poor Kellie! She had been completely buried with phone calls and eventual contracts from people who wanted to be part of The Clash since she was the legal liaison for the event. It was amazing! Brandon and Stacy even had pitched in during their off hours and were enormous help but even they weren’t enough.

The interest in the event had grown faster than anyone even dreamed of. Even Speed Channel execs were stunned. One example - Nathaniel and Wesley had talked GM, Ford, and Chrysler into bringing static displays of current performance vehicles to the site to add to the growing Vendor’s area! The Big Three wanted to be part of and help promote The Clash!

From food vendors to parts suppliers of every imaginable genre, Kel’s phone was ringing off the hook. She finally had to hire two temp girls just to assist her, all paid for by Speed who had the exclusive live-broadcast rights.

Magazine coverage was an unknown initially but within a few days there was no doubt that there would be plenty of media involvement. Every motorhead in North America into drag racing – especially of the muscle car genre – would be able to read about what was going to come down. This one was going to be special…

Kellie and I had to take a couple weeks vacation from our regular jobs JUST to keep the details in line and try to stay ahead of the interest. But, by the following Friday, we had everything set contractually other than a final tally on who all the vendors would be. It was a madhouse but it was going to be worth it!

The most amazing part of this whole thing? At this point, we still only knew that four of these factory freaks would be there for certain: our GSX, the ZR1 Proto, the automatic Terminator Proto, and a guy who owned a ’68 Charger lightweight prototype that had a hush-hush Turbo-Hemi experimental drivetrain. We had feelers out there and Nathaniel’s team was following up on their leads but four were all we had at the moment. However, we were assured that the thunder we could hear on the distant horizon would develop into one hell of a storm soon.

So… we were simply waiting to see who (and ‘what’) would step up next. Little did we know what was coming…

Also - I hadn’t heard yet whether Dollar Bill had signed on with the developmental GNX but I was hoping that he would be there most of all. I really, REALLY wanted to see that car in particular but at this point, it was still up in the air.

Yet, somehow, we just knew that ‘they’ would come… The date was set for a little over a month out – it would be the weekend after Labor Day which was sort of an off-weekend for NHRA fans following the big U.S. Nationals at Indy. We should be able to count on a good turnout, fan-wise.

Hopefully, the weather would cooperate too.

So, Friday finally came and after two weeks since the initial announcement the hoopla had finally started to settle down to just waiting to hear what cars would agree to enter.

While we all thought that the chance to win up to a quarter of a million dollars would tempt anyone into running, we also knew that not everyone is in the game for the money. (This could not have been any more true for one guy I’ll tell you about a little later.)

But now, it was Friday and we were all tired of dealing with details and phone calls and contracts. I suddenly realized I was hungry.

“Hey Brandon – how about the four of us head over to that new restaurant on Reynolds for dinner this evening? I’ve heard they’ve got great steaks and seafood; a thick, juicy Porterhouse sounds great right now.”

“Good idea, Steve. What’s the name of the place?”

“Jed’s Steakhouse, I think.” The place was not even advertising on TV or anywhere – simply word of mouth. And the ‘word’ going around was ‘phenomenal’.

“Ah… yeah, that’s the place I’ve been hearing about. A guy at work was there just this week and all he could do was rave about the place afterwards so it must be good. Sounds great!”

“How about you and Stacy meet us back here around 6 or so? I’ll make the reservations so we’ve got seats – sound ok to you guys?”

They both nodded in agreement and I swear I saw B lick his lips.

“We can either ride together or follow each other… I’m thinking of taking the GN out for a cruise since it’s been a while so I’ve got the room if you want to ride with us.”

That was one thing about the GN – plenty of room in the back for people if needed.

“We’ll decide when we get here. I’ve got a new toy that I’m interested in that was supposed to come in today that I want to surprise you with so if it shows up so if it DOES, I’ll be driving it. I got a text message from the dealer a little while ago but I haven’t connected with him yet so I’ll find out.”

I could only grin – Brandon’s passion for his ‘toys’ was legendary. That guy bought, sold, traded (and one time gave away) more cars than I could keep track of. He was keeping the details secret on this one but one thing I was sure of – it would be a Ford. Brandon is a dyed in the wool Blue Oval boy. His GT500 wasn’t going anywhere and I was sure of that – he was hopelessly in love with the supercharged horse.

I wondered what it could be as Stacy and he headed out the door. I knew that what ever it was, it would be pretty radical…



At a few minutes before six, I heard the unmistakable rumble of a slowing muscle car. I was under the GN’s hood checking the oil when I heard the approaching car being downshifted so I figured it had to be Brandon. I stepped out of the garage door just in time to see...

A brand new all black 2010 Camaro SS pull into my driveway and stop. With the sun’s reflection on the windows along with the factory tint, I couldn’t tell who was driving it…

The door opened and I saw a foot step out.

And THAT’S when I saw BRANDON step out the driver’s side door! OMG - you could have knocked me over with a feather!

“Brandon – what have you DONE? YOU BOUGHT A CHEVY? I thought you had Ford Blue in your veins? You jumped the ship and bought a GM car????”

I admit it – I was blubbering.

I was so stunned! Kellie had just walked out behind me and was equally floored. Stacy (who was looking all sorts of HOT in her outfit by the way – more on THAT later) was now standing in the open passenger’s side doorway of the Camaro, leaning her arm on the roof smiling and shaking her head.

“I know Steve… Brandon just picked me up in it and when I saw him get out of the car I was as shocked as you! Do you believe it? Brandon? In a Chevy???” She was grinning in amazement.

I just kept shaking my head as I walked around the curvaceous flanks of the F-body. It was breath taking. The paint looked wet, the wheels were highly polished, and the whole look was just to die for. Chevy got THIS one right…

“Congratulations, buddy! She’s a beaut but man, I still can not believe it…. YOU… in a CHEVY!” I shook his hand and slapped his back as I looked in the car. It was absolutely shocking... Sinister black paint with a black interior; 426 HP LS3 with 420 ft/lb of torque, a six speed manual transmission… a very well laid out interior (and I especially liked the console gauges – really retro-ish, reminding me of the old generation 1 Camaro).

I was as much impressed as I was shocked. This new Camaro is something special.

“I don’t know Brandon… I can’t blame you for buying this but what made you jump to a Camaro? I figured your next car would be a Supersnake?’

I was STILL shaking my head in disbelief… “I just do not believe this…”

He grinned and then burst out laughing. Now, Kellie and I both were confused!

“C’mon, Steve, Kel - you know I’m a Ford guy.” He looked over at Stacy who burst out laughing as hard as Brandon. He looked back as me as he almost doubled over from laughing so hard.

“Steve, Kel? This is Stacy’s new car! Gotcha – you guys should have seen your faces!!! I love it but no, it’s not mine! My new toy did come in this afternoon but the dealer hasn’t prepped it yet so I won’t get it until tomorrow.”

He had to pause to wipe the tears from his eyes, poor sap. Sheesh – he DID get and he got me GOOD! I had to laugh too!

“But how about this Camaro – awesome, isn’t it? I’ve got to admit it – Stacy blew ME away when opened up the garage door to show me when I got to her place. She said the dealer even delivered it to her! I talked her into letting me drive over here to mess with you guys and man, did it WORK! You should have seen your faces – it was freakin’ hilarious!”

Stacy continued to grin and we were all still laughing from the joke. It was a great one.

“Well, good for you Stacy! We’re happy for you!”

Kellie, who like me was still struggling to regain her composure, finallWe better get going or we’re going to miss our reservations. I’m guessing we’re driving separate?”

Stacy spoke up, “Well, I do want to drive my SS since Brandon drove it over here and there isn’t much room in the back for adults so, yes, we’ll just follow you guys.” Stacy’s grin was still beaming.

“No problem at all. Let me close the hood on the GN and we’re ready to roll!” I had to admit that I was really hungry now.

Brandon and Stacy switched sides and loaded up in the Camaro as Kellie and I got inside the GN…

Every time I open the door on the GN, it takes me back to the ‘80’s. The big, heavy door… the big cloth seats and roomy backseat… the gauges… the smells… the feel of the steering wheel… it all just is a time capsule for me. I love this car… Frankie is a beast from another generation but deep in my heart of hearts, this ’87 Buick GN is my favorite.

Maybe it’s the killer way the turbo spools up… the evil hiss it makes as you mat the pedal… maybe it’s the sleeper (yet sinisterly black) look… or maybe just because it’s another piece of automotive history; of when performance was finally making a comeback… Of when GM’s golden boy, the Vette, had to take a back seat performance-wise to a big car with a little V-6 that could pull the Vette’s panties down and smack its ass anytime it wanted to.

The feel of the ignition key sliding into the key slot with the chromed raise tabs… the sounds of the open door chime if the door is open when you put the key in… the sound of the fuel pump coming up to pressure as you rotate the key to the run position…

But best of all – the absolute most favorite thing in the world to me about this car – is looking out over the hood and feeling it come to life as you fire it up.

It doesn’t rattle your world as Frankie does. It doesn’t shake and snarl… it just sits there and idles. It always fires quickly and cleanly and with the cutout closed and even going through muffs, the car is quiet.

Deadly. But quiet.

I let the V6 warm a bit as the gauges all came up and settled in. I hadn’t driven the GN for a while and that made this drive all the more enjoyable. Like I said, it’s like going back in time….

I revved the engine a bit, listening to the whistle of the turbo, let it idle back down and snicked the shifter into “D”, which is always fun. The car changes character immediately…

Even with the high stall speed converter, the car lurches just like Frankie does when it’s put into gear. It’s like Jekyll and Hyde – one minute it’s a demure looking family grocery getter but oddly, when it’s go-time, that’s all over; NOW, it’s time to kill.

I released the brake and began rolling out of the garage as Stacy was backing the Camaro out the driveway in front of me. I reached up and hit the door opener remote, watching the door close in the rear view mirror as I pulled on out. Kellie reached over and touched my arm…

“Steve?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“It’s going to be a good night. We’ve got a lot done for the Clash so let’s have some fun tonight, ok? I’m really looking forward to getting out with Brandon and Stacy and I can’t wait to taste the food… it’s going to be a fun night!”

I had to agree – we were due to have some fun and what a great two weeks it had been. How could it get any better? Yep – Kel’s right, it’s going to be a fun night.

But - I didn’t realize until just a little later just how right she was. Because halfway to the restaurant we happened to pull up alongside a very unique car at a stoplight that I had only read about in the magazines or newspapers but had never, ever seen before.

It was an import, yes. But – not one of those annoying little 4 cylinder ricers. This was one from a country not profoundly known for performance imports in this country…

Actually, THIS particular import hails from – of all places – France; Molsheim (Alsace), France to be exact… but this was no ordinary ‘import’ in any sense of the imagination.

Because…

It was a Bugatti Veyron 16.4. Red and black – and, it sounded very, very nasty; demonic, actually.

THIS is what the beast looked like...

http://img.wallpaperstock.net:81/bugatti-veyron-red-wallpapers_1586_1024x768.jpg

And – it just so happened that he wanted to play.

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part 41

________________________________________

The evening air was still warm and very light out so we got a great view of the Bug as we pulled up to the stop light. Brandon and Stacy were behind us in the new Camaro and traffic was very, very light for a Friday evening. Still, I was not about to engage in any ‘speed contest’ - as the local law enforcement people like to write on citations – in this part of town for two reasons.

One, there are too many people who like to walk in this section of town. While I have no problem risking my car and even myself, I am not one to risk innocent pedestrians.

Two, the intersections are monitored with cameras for red light violations AND with radar for speed. Yes, friends – George Orwell was right; Big Brother IS watching. And those darn camera/radar set-ups were a gold mine for the city. Grrrr!!!

The area we were in used to be one of the old industrial blighted areas so common in large cities these days. You’ve seen them on the news – acres of old buildings that had rusty signs hanging on them identifying businesses (some small, some international) that were long since departed… security fencing that was broken down, vines and small trees trying to grown between the wires… a few rusted out hulks of some long-forgotten cars that was a victim of time or arson… trash and junk… despair and hopelessness… and crime.

But no more – this area known as “The Flats” was slowly brought back from the dead by a very wealthy (and now wealthier) group of investors who spent hundreds of millions of dollars to get it where is now stands; tall buildings housing numerous new millennium businesses and expensive apartments, several nice restaurants and pubs with open air, café style seating at most, top-line retail stores of every imaginable product, and even a huge multi-plex cinema with 21 screens. All this, while still maintaining wide streets (using enclosed glass walkways over them between sections of the developments lent an atmosphere of success and growth; a complete 180* turn from where it was only little more than a decade ago.

The criminal element was ran off and/or locked up, progress returned and as it did, so did the people and the people’s confidence in our city.

So, on this warm evening with the slowly dropping sun, Kel and I were sitting at an intersection next to a car that had a BASE PRICE of over $1.5 Million dollars. We were at an intersection that only years before was a site of drug deals, muggings, and even a few car jackings and a murder or two. It used to be an area where no one would have driven any vehicle of value for fear of not only losing it but their own life just as quickly...

But now, it is different… affluence and growth helped everyone and so this evening instead of gun shots and screams we were listening to the melodious sound of an 8.0 liter W-16 engine. A mechanical monster that was growling through an exhaust that to replace would probably cost more than a new Honda Accord. A car that has tires and wheels costing what a 40 acre farm cost back in the ‘80’s (around $70k)… expensive, yes. But to those who love the Veyron (assuming their pockets are deep enough) – worth it. For those fortunate few, it is not about the money. It’s not even about the image.

It’s about the car. Just like it is for those of us who like any brand… it’s the car.

Describing the exhaust note of the Veyron is like trying to hold smoke in your hand… impossible. You just have to hear it. Yes, it’s a turbocharged engine of enormous displacement – 8 liters in a W-16 configuration. And if you can possibly imagine what two Z06’s idling together in perfect mechanical harmony might sound like, you would be close… it’s just magic.

The turbo? Here’s the rub… It’s not one big one. Not even two big turbos. Nope, THIS beast has FOUR turbos, producing nearly 16 psi of boost (15.8 to be exact). This engine is an air pump of incredible efficiency. And those turbos produce a symphony of their own.

Heat? How much heat is this 1000+ horsepower producing in order to shove this 4300 lb car through the air at 252 mph? Enough heat that not only does the engine sit out in the open (no fancy see-through bonnet for THIS mill), it needs three coolant radiators, one heat exchanger for the twin air-to-liquid intercoolers, and two air-conditioning condensers plus others. Actually, if you count the heater core, there are 12 exchangers designed to remove heat

Fuel consumption? Hey, if you can afford a $1.7 Million dollar car, you don’t care about MPG’s. But - if you were to mat the go-pedal in this monster, the 26.4 gallon tank will be dry in around 18-19 minutes! Of course, at 252 mph, you would have travelled around 80 miles in that short time so I guess it’s all relative...

Transmission? To be honest – to call this set of gears a ‘transmission’ seems almost an insult.

How about a 7 speed, paddle-shifted, manumatic that – if you are ham-fisted enough to tear it up - will set you back a paltry $123,000 to replace? That’s right - $123,000 for the freakin’ TRANSMISSION! And at full tilt boogie, the car is programmed to shift itself – you can not keep up and shift it fast enough given the power and rate of acceleration. It can reach 100 mph in 462 feet; 0-60 in less than 2.5 seconds. Quick enough? That is why this is no ordinary transmission.

Well, plus it is from France. But that’s another story…

I have to admit it – I am a huge fan of exotics, no matter the brand. Porsche, Lambo, Ferrari, etc…. I love them all. Excessive? Yes. Over-priced? Yes. Usually owned by guys whose wallets were only matched in size by their inflated egos? Yes. But still – what marvels of mechanical engineering!

So, as I slid up alongside this beautiful red and black Veyron, I knew it was Evil, Wicked, Mean and Nasty. I knew it was worth more than everything I owned all stacked together. And I figured that the guy driving it would look over at my old heap and snicker or maybe even look away quickly enough to ensure that I would not see his eyes be bothered having to look at a car so ‘out of date’. Surely, a 60-something, gold-chain wearing, unbuttoned shirt wearing, sunglasses wearing, Rogaine-using, rich bloke who had money to burn.

But this wasn’t the case at all.

We were to the right of the Bug... I saw the passenger’s side window glide down as smoothly as if it was rolled down by angels’ hands… my window was already down but I wasn’t really looking to see the driver; I was admiring the lines of the car. Honestly, I was. My face was sticking out the window as I looked down at rims that would pay for four years of education at most State colleges… I didn’t particularly care who was driving the thing, I just wanted to soak it all in…

So when I heard the woman’s voice, I was shocked. I looked into the cabin of the car and saw the very feminine face of someone I had not seen – almost forgotten – for many years. A woman from the past who was married to a good friend of mine, a good man who died in the North Tower on a sunny September morning forever immortalized as ‘9-11’.

It was Sally… Harry’s widow. And it had been years…

Harry and Sally had had troubles over the years (remember back then?) but had managed to patch things up. Harry and Sally eventually moved to New York, earned their broker’s license (Harry and Sally both knew how to make money) and after a year or two of very hard work had finally made a fortune on Wall Street.

Life was good for them and to them, at least until that fateful day...

But due to the distance, Kel and I did not get to keep in touch much at all after they moved away. And actually, the last time we saw Sally was at Harry’s funeral… we were all numb back then, just like the rest of the nation.

Due to the restriction in air travel it took us a couple of days to get there once Harry’s remains were identified. Harry had apparently died in the stair well with several of New York’s finest trying to help others escape the building before it collapsed. They just never made it out…

Fortunately, Sally was going to come in to work later that day since she had a meeting at a lawyer’s office with two new investors interested in investing with Harry and Sally’s firm, Helios Dynamics. Had it not been for that meeting that morning, I wouldn’t be looking in her car’s window right now because I know that she would have been in that same stairwell with Harry, helping any and every one that needed a hand. THAT is the kind of people that Harry and Sally are… People that make you better just by your having gotten to know them.

Funny isn’t it, how time goes by… how it slips away? How, for a moment certain things seem really, really important but then, something happens and you realize that what you may have valued before now holds no value at all?

Ironic, isn’t it? How, one minute you can be married and have the world by its tail and all it takes is an airliner piloted by fanatics, fanatics hell-bent on dying and taking innocent lives with them by slamming the plane at several hundred miles per hour into a 110 story building where your spouse works…

Ironic that this is all done – the thousands dead and others forever scarred - all in the name of some religion they perverted?

That all this happens and it just shows us all how little control we really do have?

Back to reality - “Steve? Steve Morton? Is that you? And is that Kelly with you?”

She recognized us… Sally… OUR Sally…

“Yep, it’s us Sally. How are you doing?” A quick glance at the light showed that we were still waiting for it to change.

“Steve – let’s pull over up here. I can’t believe I found you! Pull over there in that parking lot, ok?”

I nodded and as the light changed, I let Sally pull ahead and over into one of the small open-air mall’s parking areas followed by B and Stacy.

She let the Bug idle as the door slid open and she stepped out, looking as gorgeous as always. But her face still showed the scars loneliness and sadness we saw 8 years ago… in spite of her radiant smile…

We hugged and laughed (and even cried) as Sally got us caught up on where life had taken her since Harry’s death. I was listening and at the same time being washed over by a flood of great memories as she spoke, thinking of all the great times we had all had way back when…

“And that’s when I met Nathaniel and Wesley. Actually, I met them through – “

“What?” I was back to the current. “Which Nathaniel and Wesley are you talking about?”

“The Nathaniel and Wesley who I am told you have contracted with for some spectacular event – that is who I’m talking about. You mean – they did not mention me to you because I’ve certainly heard about you guys!”

She tried to act like she was hurt that we did not know how she might have been involved but she couldn’t keep a straight face. But to be honest, you could have knocked us all over with a feather. We would have never dreamed in a million years that we would be standing in front of The Apple Store catching up with Sally who we had just seen driving a Veyron!

It IS a small world after all!

Kelly spoke.

“No, Sally… we really only know Nathaniel and the immediate gang. We’ve met the lawyers and such but that’s pretty much it. They never really mentioned anyone else. How do you know them again?”

Sally smiled. “Well, I met them through Deborah a year or so after Harry died. Deborah and I were in the same Pilates class and one day the conversation turned to cars; she’s a fiend and so am I and so we got to talking… Back then, they were just some people who were car enthusiasts but they were determined. And they were good at what they did with their software business. Like we’ve always heard - the rest is history!”

Wow! Talk about going full circle… Who would have thought?

“So… Sally, tell me about the Veyron. What’s the story?”

She grinned, her perfectly perfect white teeth flashing a smile so warm that it would melt steel. A human heart stood no chance…

“You like it? It’s actually a birthday gift from me to me. I did pretty well over the years and with the insurance settlements and what the government paid to settle I had some extra cash. I know – it’s excessively excessive but somehow I felt that if Harry were still alive today, he would have told me to go for it. So, I did… “

“Good for you, Sally. It’s awesome… ever run it?”

“See? I knew you would get around to that! You guys never change, Steve. And Brandon – what’s the deal with the new Camaro? It’s gorgeous!”

Brandon and Stacy filled Sally in on the deal as she looked it over and walked around it. While she did that, Kelly and I looked at the Veyron….

To call this monster ‘Incredible’ was beyond an understatement. It is a car without equal… not even the McLaren F1 was in the same league. It had it all… looks, power, sound, and an evil magnetism that very few cars have ever possessed.

“So, Sally… is this ‘Clash’ the reason you are here?”

“Yes, it is. But I’m not here to race – although it WOULD be interesting to run this thing flat out somewhere, I’m only in town this weekend and headed back to New York Sunday afternoon. I brought over some original documents that Christine wanted – I know I could have faxed them but I’ve been itching to road-trip the Veyron so I told her I would just drive them out. So – here I am! Me and my little ‘bug’ road-trippin’ it to your home town!”

Kelly and I glanced at each other with the same thought – Sally is still Sally after all. There was NO ONE who was more into driving somewhere/ANYwhere than Sally.

“By the way, Steve – you can not imagine the attention this car gets!”

“You’re right, Sally – we can’t!” We all got a good laugh at that one. There was NOTHING subtle about the Veyron!

“People nearly run off the road just to come alongside for a look. When I stop for gas, it takes a lot of effort to finally break free from people to get out of the station! It seems like EVERYone knows what this car is and it just draws them like bees to honey. I love the attention it gets. For some reason, it just reminds me so much of Harry in so many ways.”

For a fleeting moment, a dark cloud passed over Sally’s face as she seemed to be looking at something she did not want to see – but then just as quickly as it came, it left.

She smiled again - “You know, Kel – remember when I always said I wanted to get a bug someday? Remember? I wanted a red one with the flower in the vase on the dash!”

Kelly nodded yes… They had driven many lots back then trying to find the right one but she never did.

“Of course, back then I was talking about a VW Bug not a Bugatti! But regardless, I’ve got my ‘Bug’ now!” More laughter all around…

I was proud of Sally and so glad to have run into her today. Kelly was right – it WAS going to be a fun night!

“Sally – would you be interested in going to dinner with us? We’re heading over to Jed’s Steakhouse and would love for you to join us. What do you say?” Kelly, Brandon, and Stacy were all encouraging her to join us.

“Sure! Sounds fun, guys. I haven’t eaten yet and a steak sounds great. Is it close?”

“Yes, not far from here at all. And one other thing, have you ever raced that thing?”

She laughed and then her eyes locked on mine with that determined ‘I can do anything’ look Sally was known for.

“Steve, you know me probably as good as anyone. Can you imagine me having over a thousand horsepower under my size 7 and NOT use it once in a while? Thank God this car is All Wheel Drive, it NEEDS it! Hey wait – are you challenging me? I think you might be challenging me!”

More of the deadly smile…

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a challenge as much as just some old racing fans having some fun. I know your car is fast, around a 10 second quarter mile, right?”

She grinned and nodded her head. “You got it, Steve. And I do believe those numbers, well - assuming the car can get traction. You have to drive this one time before I go back – you will not believe it. But I digress – do you have someplace around here we can go play after dinner?”

Kelly spoke up, “Oh do we… ha-ha-ha-ha! Let’s go eat! We’ll tell you all about it and its colorful but recent history over dinner!”

“Sounds great, Kel! Let’s go!” We all headed for our cars…

When we got back in the Buick, I looked over at Kelly who was smiling.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Kel?”

“Well, my love – if you’re thinking of Tri-County because tonight is a Test and Tune night, then we’re thinking the same thing!”

See how lucky I am? She’s wonderful… and, she thinks of everything!

But little did we know that this beautiful summer evening – a warm and memorable evening of old friends, fond memories, good food, and wicked-fast cars – would turn out like it did…

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part 42
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Dinner came and went… actually, I think all of us were pretty psyched about seeing the Veyron running full out. The food was GREAT – just as we had heard – and the service as well as the pricing was second to no one. We all agreed that we would definitely add Jed’s to our restaurant rotation.

But, even though the girls tried to steer the conversations away from work, the Clash, or racing in general, it seemed like all we talked about was whether the GN had a ghost of a chance against the Veyron.

None of us had any doubt about Sally’s abilities behind the wheel of a high-horsepower machine; she had proven long ago that she could drive just as well as anyone else (male or female) and could drive better than most. So, given that I knew that I was going to have my hands full with the Bug, no doubt about it.

Sure, the Veyron is a heavy car – around 4400+ lbs. But with over a thousand horsepower, all wheel drive, and aerodynamics that let the car move through air like a shark in water, the weight wasn’t as much an issue.

Most magazines and tests put the Bug at a low-mid ten’s car with a couple showing it in low-tens. Regardless, it was fast. Expensive, yes… but damned fast.

Honestly? I was not sure I could even hang with the beast because I had not had the GN back to the track since I had upgraded the intercooler to a front mount. But even with that, I didn’t doubt that I would see the tail lights of the Veyron by the finish line.

I knew it would launch hard, fast and straight, given the AWD. I have run several AWD cars, including the Evo and STI and with a banzai launch they could knock down some very impressive 60 foot times. Knowing that the Veyron had a big enough can of whoop-ass in the 8.0 liter engine, I knew that for me to stay with Sally on the launch was going to be crucial if I was to have ANY chance at all of winning the race. We would know soon…

We all left the restaurant one behind the other. Well, that was after we FINALLY got to leave the restaurant…

When we walked outside, there were several people looking over Sally’s ride and they had a million questions. However, after Sally explained that she was taking the car out to Tri-County, several enthusiasts decided to blow off dinner at Jed’s (Sorry!) and follow us out to the track to watch!

Interestingly enough, not one person thought I had a chance against the Veyron and a few thought Stacy should run the Camaro against it because they thought IT had a better chance! (Yeah – we laughed too…)

So, from Jed’s parking lot our ‘caravan’ snaked back out the highway and in about 30 minutes we were at the entrance to T-C.

The owners had already started on some parking improvements for the Clash. Construction and paving equipment were parked off to the side with a lot of dirt having been moved and stone laid down for a base. That was nice to see because all indications we had at that point were saying that Tri-County would probably have its largest crowd ever.

Sally led the way in. The stares and gawks were never-ending! At the tech area, yet another huge crowd developed and most of them were trying to see inside the monster or ask Sally questions. I even joked that perhaps Sally should have charged the track rather than the track charge her since she brought a crowd!

And even before we had left the tech inspection (and yes, Sally had her helmet – hmmm…..) we could hear the announcer’s excitement:

“Race fans, you are one of the privileged few tonight! Why? Because you are going to see a car actually do battle on the track here at Tri-County Raceway Park that most of us have not even heard about, much less seen outside of a magazine. Tonight – you are going to witness a VERY, VERY expensive car with all that modern technology can offer go head to head with a competitor that is twenty-one years older! Ladies and gentlemen – tonight you will watch a one point seven million dollar Bugatti – yes, folks, a BUGATTI! – Veyron battle an ’87 Buick Grand National in an impromptu grudge-match if you will!”

He continued as we headed over to the pit area to get parked together…

“Race fans – if you have a camera, a camcorder, or even a cheesy cell phone that takes pictures, you will want to get them ready! Why? Because I am told that this car – this demon on four wheels – is not only worth more than this drag strip, it is going to be driven by a WOMAN! Yes, ladies – this one is for you! We are told that our very own Steve Morton is going to run one of his Turbo Buicks against his friend’s Bugatti 16.4 Veyron. So tell me race fans… who do YOU think is going to win this? Huh?”

We could hear the roar of crowd even over the sounds of the cars in the lanes or the two running down the track. As we stepped out of our cars, everyone who was not already IN the stands was either now walking briskly towards the stands or headed over to gather around our area. Fortunately, track security noticed the crowds and came over to get them back.

“That’s what I thought too, ladies and gentlemen! It’s going to be a great race, isn’t it? On one hand, we’ve got a car that is pretty simple and yet brutal; Steve’s Grand National. We’ve all seen it run here and we know it’s a killer. And by the way, don’t forget the upcoming Clash of Titans here at Tri-County – get your informational flier down at the gate as you leave or there is also a stack of them at the concession area.

But also, you can not dismiss the Veyron as a poseur either! This animal has over a thousand horsepower stock – STOCK mind you! – is all wheel drive, and has FOUR turbos! It’s capable of over 250 mile per hour and you are about to see one of these awesome machines give it all it’s got! So, stay in your seats race fans and watch for a black Buick in one lane lining up against what looks like a red and black squashed bug on hyper-steroids in the other! Now, let’s get back to the racing, ok? Just don’t go anyplace in the mean time!”

Wow! With hype like that from Dan (the new resident announcer), even WE were excited. Sally was beaming with pride as she was trying to answer a few questions. And there were almost as many people hounding Stacy and Brandon about the new Camaro. Tech had asked them if they were going to run it but Stacy decided to get a few miles on it first. I didn’t blame her at all, either even though a lot of people were trying to goad her into taking it down the track. She stood her ground though and promised to run it the next time she had it at the track.

Finally, Sally waved over at me and gave me a “Ready?” look. Kelly saw it too and handed me my helmet.

I had already adjusted the air pressure in the Nitto’s and checked to make sure the alcohol tank was full – it was. The electric cutout was open on the dump tube and tank was about half full of 93 octane Shell. This would be a good test for the GN, regardless whether I won or lost. I was excited to see if the FM added anything – it sure LOOKED like it should! The car was as ready as it was ever going to be for this one.

“Good luck, baby!” Kelly said as she leaned up and kissed my cheek. Brandon and Stacy smiled and gave me a thumbs up just as they did for Sally. I’m sure they were as excited about what was about to go down, no matter who won, as anyone!

Sally slid into the Veyron and fired it up.

Like I said before, it’s hard to describe how this car sounds – there are so many noises from all the fans, the exhaust, the 64 valves (!), and the turbos that to try and describe it is impossible. The exhaust burbles and rumbles fairly sedately but couple that with everything else, it’s just surreal. And when Sally revs it? A completely different sound – almost like something you would hear at a fighter base – erupts.

It’s just like nothing else you’ve ever heard before.

And the looks… the long, wide and sloping nose of the Veyron looks deceptively tame, almost like a flat-faced pug. Yet, there is the gaping hole in the center of the grille-like area that looks like some sort of alien mouth – or lips on a carp? But other than that, the car is flat, squat and all business. The view of the side and rear are even more beautiful. And when you look at the enormous Michelin PAX tires (again over $23,000 for a set of four!) you just know that you could use a spare to start your own lawn rolling business.

Out at the rear of the car is a hydraulically operated wing that is deployed as needed based upon data to the car’s computer. It can be used to provide down force as well as braking!

Also, the ride height is adjustable. The lowest position is for flat out runs, the middle position is for handling and the highest (a whole 4.9 inches of clearance!) is for day-to-day use and also retracts the wing completely. (Can you tell how captivating this car IS in person?!)

I opened the door on the Buick and slid into the seat. Pulling the heavy door shut reminded me just how far apart the Veyron is compared to what I was sitting in. I slid the key into the ignition, never tiring of the feel of that and hearing the key clear the tumblers.

I rotated the key forward to the ‘Run’ position and instantly heard the huge fuel pumps bring up the pressure in the system, then kick back. At the same time, the Autometer gauges (GNX style panel now!) danced to life and assumed their appropriate reading for an unfired engine…

I sat there for a few seconds, marveling at how incredible this 1987 Buick Grand National really is… Here is a car that is nearly three decades old, has TEN LESS cylinders than the Veyron, THREE LESS turbos, and God only knows how many less fans and heat exchangers but that YET was going to face off on a track against it! I knew I did not have over a thousand horsepower at my disposal – but I also knew my car did not weigh as much.

While there would never be any debate of the outcome if I were to run the GN against the Bug on a road course, on the quarter mile strip? Hey, who knows?

I reached over and rolled up the windows. To this day, I always marvel at how unbelievably S-L-O-W they roll up or down! Yet, it’s part of the character of the car. As the windows closed, the noise pretty much died down but I could still hear some of the announcer’s words. I could barely hear the Veyron but now, it did not matter.

I was in the zone. It was go-time…

I cinched up the full face helmet and buckled the harness tightly. I then reached forward and rotated the key against the spring loading, taking the switch assembly on into the “Start” position…

That’s when the near-silence ended.

A built V6 Turbo Buick is not quiet. Especially when the exhaust is uncorked… As the switch contacts closed, the current flowed through the system and via the starter solenoid engaged the big starter at the base of the engine. Immediately, the gear engaged the flywheel and began to rotate it along with all the interconnected rotating mass.

The crank spun, connecting rods jammed pistons up and down, the cam turned and push rods fought against the valve springs to force valves open in the proper sequence… fuel shot through the pressure regulator into the rail and out the assigned injectors on the SFI system into the gaping maw of each cylinder just as thousands of volts of spark lit off to slam the pistons back down… completing the starting sequence in less than a second and allowing me to release the key back to the ‘Run’ position.

Now, it was alive once more.

The motor was still warm from the drive over so no warm up time was necessary. I depressed the brake pedal and pulled the shifter back to the Drive position. Immediately, I was once more rewarded with the car’s shifting stance; the back end just sort of hunches up like you see a panther get ready to jump onto some unsuspecting prey… The torque that the V6 makes is actually much higher per cylinder than the Veyron could ever dream of.

And the horsepower to displacement contest was no contest either. But still, this wasn’t a battle of statistics – it was all out quarter mile war and no matter what amount of money was spent on either vehicle, no matter which car stacked up the best in the bench racing category, it was all down to horsepower and torque transfer to the pavement. We would find out soon enough which car had enough to get the job done…

I followed Sally up the lane as Brandon, Stacy, and Kelly headed on up to the stands. Several fans walked behind us as we entered the pre-staging area. I even noticed several wagers being made! Funny isn’t it? No matter what the ‘contest’, people will bet as to who THEY think will win. Human nature never changes – we all want to have a hero…

As we approached the staging lanes we were greeted by two track officials who had opened up the two inside lanes just for us. They motioned for us to come on forward and had us at the front of the line immediately. I could hear the announcer’s voice but could not make out what he was saying but whatever it was (I think it was the introduction of us onto the track?), it had the crowd roaring with approval.

In seconds, the officials waved us on forward and now it was for real…

Scanning the gauges as I rounded the curve onto the track’s staging area, I saw all was normal. I was to Sally’s left and I saw her drive around the water box – no need for it with AWD – and then I stopped to back into the watered area. The guys at the burnout area motioned me when to stop and then pull ahead to begin the burnout…

Snicking the shifter from “R” back to “D”, I felt the car shift again under the massive transfer of torque. I engaged the line-lock and began the burnout… first a whirring, hissing sound began with the exhaust note and then plumes of white smoke billowed out from beneath the rear wheel wells... the crowd was yelling and howling and the track attendant were smiling their approval… I released the line-lock and shot forward, braking as I crossed the beams to roll to a stop… I backed up back across the beams, watching the rear view mirror to ensure I was lined up… I noticed the crowd was on its feet and I could faintly hear the announcer driving them into a frenzy…

Yet, to my right sat the Veyron… patient and smug… no need for a burnout given the enormous amount of traction the huge tires and AWD were handing to Sally. Tire sizes? How about these specs? Fronts, 265-680 ZR’s, and Rears: 365-710 ZR’s! Plenty of traction there indeed…

As I rolled to a stop, once again I shifted from Reverse back to drive and then let off the brake pedal enough to pull up even to Sally… I could hear her rev the huge 8 liter engine… she still had not prestaged yet, I guess waiting for me to pull up with her…

I was glad to oblige…

I then rolled into the lights in slowly, creeping almost until I see the “Prestage” light come on… I stopped, watching and waiting for Sally to do the same which she did almost at the same time…

Knowing that we both had turbo’d cars, I wondered if her launch would be like mine – if she would try to build some boost first?

I didn’t have long to wait… I saw her car squat even lower (oh yeah, the adjustable ride height) but then sort of hunch up as I heard the engine build some rpms…

I did the same thing, rolling into the pedal enough to bring up the rpms… I watched the boost gauge as it began to build boost and rpms… the 3600 rpm stall converter was patiently waiting to be loosed…

2psi…

3psi… 4psi…

I could hear the Veyron’s engine and turbos as Sally did the same, drifting slowly into the lights. Her “Prestage” lamp was now lit…

I engaged the transbrake and continued to build boost…

6psi… 7psi… and more…

The V6 was screaming defiantly against the enormous 8 liter’s ominous note…

David versus Goliath…

Some would say, Good versus Evil… America versus the world… Muscle and hard work against technology and computerization…

After the race was over, many would forever say it was the most incredible thing they had ever seen… even years later, most who were there would say the same thing still… better yet, many more people even claimed to have seen the race than the actual number who were there… most likely, due to YouTube…

Now, both “Staged” lamps were lit and the starter began the light sequence…

I matted the pedal as soon as both lamps were lit, my finger on the transbrake release… I knew this would be a HARD launch… it would have to be if I was going to have a chance…

Amber…

Amber…

Third amber… TRANSBRAKE RELEASED! BAM!

It seemed – at the time – that everything happened in slow motion. I knew that Sally had a “Launch mode” selector in the Veyron but I wasn’t sure what it did exactly. Regardless, I had no time to think about it… why?

Because the moment I released the transbrake and all that torque, the GN lifted the nose off the track and nearly dragged the bumper before it quickly settled back down to terra firma…

I saw two birds flying high in the sky for the briefest of times as my view over the hood was briefly yanked skyward… freakish…

To my right, I only saw a red/black blur shoot forward as if from a cannon… to my horror - and before the wheel stand was even over, the Veyron had me by nearly three-fourths of a car…

And THAT was the good news…

The bad news?

The Veyron’s lead seemed to be s-l-o-w-l-y widening… I could see that even as the nose of the GN dropped back to the pavement... Even though the Buick has just destroyed my previous best 60 foot time, it was not enough – the Veyron, with its 7 speed DSG $123,000 transmission, four turbos and 1000+ horsepower was hell bent for leather and in the process of leaving me behind…

Never, EVER have I run against a car that could accelerate that fast… It was as if the Bug was on rails and had rocket propulsion… The Bugatti engineers have every right to be proud of the car… it is jaw dropping…

Sally told me later that the launch is unlike any other car she had ever driven, turbo or not… she said that when you mat the pedal, for the first moment all seems normal, almost ‘civil’; acceleration is fast but no wheel spin no attitude, just powerful acceleration. But then - the turbos are ramped up and all hell breaks loose with a deafening roar… the car feels like it is trying to rip off your face and it does not care if or how much it hurts… your vision almost blurs and even with a helmet on, the engine’s scream is frightening… it is all you can do to hang on according to her… and I believe every word of it.

At half track, things began to slowly turn… the nose of the Buick was now just at the front of Sally’s door….

At the 990 foot mark, the Veyron was still maybe a half a fender ahead but by now, the GN was coming on strong… the shifts were brutal, unlike what Sally was feeling… the computer in the Veyron made sure that one clutch engages before the other disengages which is much smoother… the bullet-proof Janis-built tranny in the GN did not care about finesse or delicate shifts – when one gear left into another one, it was sudden and harsh… but Vince assured me it would take everything I could dish out and that it was good for at least 1200 horsepower…

He was right… I still drive that transmission today and it has never gone back to Akron for anything… and it will STILL nearly break your neck when shifted under power…

The finish line was coming at us fast… it was a blur but at the same time, it was almost as if it was a series of still photographs… beams of sunlight… a blue cloudless sky…

A red and black Veyron trying to hold onto a lead of maybe inches…

A black car from another generation with a little V6 and huge turbo and intercooler trying to once again prove that everything is not always as it seems… that sometimes, it truly is NOT over until it is over…

And just that quick, Sally and I drove through the last beam, too close for us to call… we could hear the announcer’s voice yelling something exciting…

We could hear the turbos whistling back down…

We could imagine the reddish glow that had to be on the exhaust manifolds, even in broad daylight…

I rolled my window down as I neared the turnoff area, enjoying the sounds of a summer’s Friday night at the drag strip…

Sally turned in just ahead of me, the wing on the Veyron still up in the braking position… what a beautiful car, I thought to myself…

She reached the time slip shack and I watched as the guy handed her a white slip… I wondered what it said as I looked at the glow of the Bug’s brake lights did the Buick have enough?

She pulled away, waving out her open window at me… what did that mean? Did she wave in victory?

Did she wave in congratulations? I didn’t know…

And just as quickly, I was at the doorway of the shack… the old, tall man handed me the slip as he was saying, “Man, that is SOME kind of car of hers, isn’t it? What a monster…”

I nodded yes. Yes. It IS some kind of car she has there…

He looked at me, I guess expecting a reaction… I had not looked at the times yet…

“Well?” he asked. “What do you think?” I looked up into his weathered face, imagining in his lifetime that he must have seen a LOT of unbelievable cars… he was not smiling…

I still held my foot on the brake… dare I look? As long as I didn’t, I could imagine that all is well. Looking might bring, well, disappointment…

But, I looked anyways. Losing to a car like the Veyron was nothing to be ashamed of…

The slip had two rows of numbers, with the top numbers representing a car number followed by all the times and MPH’s for each distance… My eyes quickly jumped over to see what Sally and Veyron had ran.

The right lane’s final numbers were staggering…. 9.91 seconds at 143.7 mph. OMG… I thought the Veyron was a low 10 second car at best! But this proved it wasn’t… at least in Sally’s capable hands.

And then, I looked at my numbers… Surely, someone had made a mistake… right?

I looked again. And again… but they still read the same thing…

Left lane: 1320 feet, 9.87 seconds at 142.8 mph.

It was impossible to believe – David had just slain Goliath…

That was when I looked up at the tall, old man and saw him smiling.

“You did it, son. You beat that foreign sum’bitch…” He then reached down and patted my arm.

“God bless the USA, son…” was all he said….”God bless the USA - and General Motors…”

He was still smiling as I drove away, back to the crowd...


To be continued…

[honduh_head]

ok thats all for now.....


shit is getting sooooo good


fuckin shits on the fast and furious series

[cwjdmitr]

i hate reading this just because it takes so long for more! arghhhhh..... awesome story though...

[IS-Frank]

Omg i just read the whole god damn thing and i want more now.......i swear im like on the endge of my fuckin seat...when i read this

[BigTdawg]

This story is AMAZING. Read over it twice now. I've been sitting on the edge of my seat the entire time.

[honduh_head]

i think he's nearing the end so hopefully it will come quicker now ;)

[yoyonogood]

damn it left me hangin finish it!!!

[BigTdawg]

Any updates on the story yet?

[honduh_head]

I'll try to find out tonight

[emw2772000]

holly hell that first page was sooo long longest post in history goes to you lol........i didnt even check the other pages for the continued story cuz i didnt want to get hook again this could be a dam book

[honduh_head]

holly hell that first page was sooo long longest post in history goes to you lol........i didnt even check the other pages for the continued story cuz i didnt want to get hook again this could be a dam book
Its issss a book u jackass.

[cwjdmitr]

Its issss a book u jackass.

isnt it awesome how stupid people are...

[emw2772000]

Its issss a book u jackass.

isnt it awesome how stupid people are...


thank you for sharing that some of us dont know this.. i an didnt really have time to read threw 4 pages how would ik the person posting said story not book? so i thought its just a story someone wrote on a differnt site MY BAD

[skar1]

fuck i'm still reading from the first page, this needs to be published already i've been reading on and off from my sidekick ftl

[Honda Beezy]

HOLY FUCK TARD!

Are people supposed to read this?
I jus scrolled down n saw how long it was and said: FUCK THAT!

[BigTdawg]

Its actually a really good story. I'm still hanging on the edge of my seat waiting for more updates!

[Gillette51]

:sleep::sleep::sleep:

id rather sleep than attempt to read that

fuck that lol
:rflmao:

[honduh_head]

thank you for sharing that some of us dont know this.. i an didnt really have time to read threw 4 pages how would ik the person posting said story not book? so i thought its just a story someone wrote on a differnt site MY BAD

This is a book from another site...I've been cross posting it for like 2 years now.

For crying out loud people just read it!

[honduh_head]

For those of you that ARE reading this, please post up how badass this is. Thnx :)

[honduh_head]

fuck i'm still reading from the first page, this needs to be published already i've been reading on and off from my sidekick ftl

Thanks for reading man you're a trooper!

[adam]

For those of you that ARE reading this, please post up how badass this is. Thnx :)

It's definitely badass. lol the first thing I've read in a while that kept me interested. i need MORE! haha

[honduh_head]

It's definitely badass. lol the first thing I've read in a while that kept me interested. i need MORE! haha
Seriosuly right! Shit keeps u on the edge of your seat from the first paragraph to the last...

And its really fast paced and easy as hell to read. Should only take a few hours (if that) to read everything that's been posted so far ;)

[Ryan]

HOLY FUCK!
Can I get all 4 Volumes on CD Please?

[honduh_head]

HOLY FUCK!
Can I get all 4 Volumes on CD Please?

Like u have something better to do. Just read it .

[Streeter]

more plzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

im hooked and i cant get my fix :drunk:

[honduh_head]

just checked turbobuick and no updates at the moment...

[Streeter]

k. :ballin:

[fivesfe]

just got done reading it all...

I need moar!

[honduh_head]

just got done reading it all...

I need moar!

pretty good stuff right?

[fivesfe]

yeah, i remember starting to read it way back when it was first posted. decided to finish it yesterday. good stuff.

[adam]

He's taking too fuckin long! shiiiiit.

[Shorty]

alright something to read while im bored at work

[BigTdawg]

alright something to read while im bored at work

Goddamnit! Someone bumped this thread and I got all excited for a good read!

[JDMitation]

and i thought i was bored...

but not that bored.

(made it to paragraph 6)

[[C3R] Corey]

Can't wait for another update...

[SKITTLES DA]

Dude omg ....

[redlineaz]

Moar??

[BigTdawg]

Ok someone bumped it again and I got all excited to read the newest addition. Stop playin with my emotions!!

[crxhfb16]

Im going to wait for the movie to come out :thumbsup:

[jwrsns]

no ones goona read this shit

[adam]

no ones goona read this shit

Plenty of people have dude. And if you read it, you would know it's not "shit".

[honduh_head]

no ones goona read this shit

ya you're right....5 pages of posts because nobody read it.




you know what's interesting, this is the only website that i have seen where the members refuse to read this story. must be a honda thing.

honda owners = lazy illiterates? NO WAAAY!

[honduh_head]

Plenty of people have dude. And if you read it, you would know it's not "shit".

thank you dude!

[BigTdawg]

Any new updates Hunduh? I'm gettin all antzy to read the next extension.

[honduh_head]

Any new updates Hunduh? I'm gettin all antzy to read the next extension.

haha lemme check man

[fivesfe]

no ones goona read this shit

dont be mad because your illiterate...

[honduh_head]

i looked but didn't see any updates... so i pm'd the guy to see if he has anything coming soon

[honduh_head]

dont be mad because your illiterate...

hahahhahaha!

[rudsone]

fuck THAT.

id rather pick up a fucking lord of rings book to read lolz.

that shit is looooooooooong

[honduh_head]

fuck THAT.

id rather pick up a fucking lord of rings book to read lolz.

that shit is looooooooooong

i hate you

[cbaracing]

For those of you that ARE reading this, please post up how badass this is. Thnx :)

it is awesome reading and takes me back to Ohio summers

I am from small town Ohio

every summer small towns across Ohio have "cruise-ins"
you want to see some of the cars this guy is talking about in the story you go to a cruise in
we go to a small town call Bucyrus that has a pretty sizable cruise in
they basically shut down main street for saturday night
cars are parked all along the street and side streets while the street is being cruised up and down by every muscle car imaginable

picture 2 downtown tempe mill roads stacked together lined with cars and well you get the idea

oh my goodness when these cars come out of winter hibernation its pure sex
just walking along the sidewalk while they are rumbling along the street ah what a feeling
gives me goose bumps just thinking about it

[honduh_head]

it is awesome reading and takes me back to Ohio summers

I am from small town Ohio

every summer small towns across Ohio have "cruise-ins"
you want to see some of the cars this guy is talking about in the story you go to a cruise in
we go to a small town call Bucyrus that has a pretty sizable cruise in
they basically shut down main street for saturday night
cars are parked all along the street and side streets while the street is being cruised up and down by every muscle car imaginable

picture 2 downtown tempe mill roads stacked together lined with cars and well you get the idea

oh my goodness when these cars come out of winter hibernation its pure sex
just walking along the sidewalk while they are rumbling along the street ah what a feeling
gives me goose bumps just thinking about it

then you'll love this.... one of his kill stories that he posted recently:

True story...

Tonight was a beautiful Northern Ohio late spring evening with temperatures in the low '70's and a blue cloudless sky. Since I am working night shifts this weekend (10pm to 6am) and since the weather was so gorgeous, I decided to drive my GN to work. "To work?" you ask? Well, mainly because the guys who work on my team (I'm a supervisor at an Oil Refinery) have been begging for me to bring it in so they can see it in person. They had seen the pics but wanted to see it in person. No problem...

So, I decide to dust off Raven, check tire pressures, air up the Drag Radials (255-60/15's) and leave for work about 8:20pm.

Part of my 25 mile drive to work is four-lane interstate highway and about half of it is in town through some sleeply neighborhoods and a few retail strips with the usual McDonalds, Wendy's, Taco Bell, etc. As always, the GN draws stares and gawks from people on the road (along with a few thumbs-ups) and also as always, a wanna-be hero or two.

Why is this? These Turbo Buicks - especially a waxed Grand National - are like magnets for drivers with nothing but steel shavings for brains! Tonight's drive in was no exception.

First, I'm on I-75 heading north and I glance up to see in my rear view mirror that a white late model Dodge Charger (nice looking car) is doing the mess-around behind me, weaving in and out and apparently trying to catch up to me. Now, I'm driving around 70mph and this guy is coming up on my rear almost like I'm parked so I decide to pull over to the slow lane to let him come around.

Only - he doesn't.

He pulls up next to me and with the dark tint he has on the windows, I can't see if it's a dweeb with a mullet or Brad Pitt but regardless, the guy decides to flip his tranny to neutral and begins revving me! WTF? I look down at the fender on his car as he's tossing his challenge out and don't see the "HEMI" tag. Hmmm... "SXT"? WTF x2? A heavy-ass Charger with a V6?

Not getting any response from me, he starts surging ahead (if you can call the slight forward motion the car makes as he floors the pedal to cause the tranny to kickdown, loud noises to eminate from the single exhaust at the rear, and a slight, 'Let's rock to sleep' motion evident in the car). I don't even want to waste the $3.00 premium but what the hell. Traffic is light going northboud so I roll down my window (I too have heavy tint) and wave, thinking he will just zoom off into the sunset with his white Charger.

But - no-o-o-o-o-o-o. He wants to play.

Ok, let's dance buddy.

I wait for his next little rock-a-bye-baby 'surge' (almost insulting the word 'surge' to describe his same-day acceleration moves that way) and I mat the accelerator at 70mph. In a blink, the boost gauge lunges somewhere north of 20 psi, the progressive alky kit dumps in some of the cool stuff to keep knock out of the picture and the Vince Janis built 200R4 nearly snaps my neck, leaving the white Charger looking like he is indeed, parked.

Needless to say, he never came back up to me for the rest of the time on the interstate. Dang. And I was hoping we could share stories...

So, enjoying this ugly kill but at the same time lamenting the wasted fuel, I get off I-75 at my exit and begin the last half of the trip through the suburbs and eventually, restaurant row. Driving through the meandering streets and thoroughfares along the Maumee river is quite beautiful this evening with lots of pedestrians about, some pushing strollers with their toddlers and others just walking from here to there.

Regardlss, nearly all of them stare at the black shark that passes them pretty much silently by on the city streets... I love the attention this car gets.

Eventually, I end up at the intersection where restaurant row begins. There is a BP gas station on one corner, a McDonalds on another, a Wendys on the third, and some retail shopping on the fourth. Moving through the intersection after the glacially-paced light changes I see Taco Bell, Burger King and other assorted fast food joints approaching.

Seeing as to how I'm going to be up all night, I decide to pull into Taco Bell to grab a soda. That's when I notice that I've picked up a tail.

Looking in my rear view mirror, I see a silver Challenger. Not the original body but one of the newer ones. At first, he pulls over to the left lane (I'm in the right lane and there is also a turn lane on this five-lane stretch of road) and that is when I see the two slash marks on the fenders.

It's a good lookin' car, I've got to admit. I DO like the striping for some odd, retro-looking reason. He's just pacing me off my driver's side rear quarter, apparently looking over the GN.

Sheesh... not another one, I think to myself.

But when the driver sees me flick on the signal to turn into T/B, he slows and pulls in behind me, following me through the drive-through. I order my drink and pull ahead waiting for the car in front of me to get his order and go and that's when I hear it...

Challenger-guy is revving his Hemi a bit. I look in my mirror and I see what has to be the face of a teen ager behind the wheel with his girl to his right in the passenger side. WTF? But - he's at least giving me a thumbs-up so I wave back at him, figuring at least he's a guy who likes cars.

In a flash, the guy ahead gets his order (a family actually, in a Taurus) and he pulls out. I pull to the window, the young girl asks for my money and hands me a huge 32 ounce soda. I take it and then pull on ahead waiting to the approaching mini-van to pass so I can pull out to my right and finish the remaining four mile drive to the Refinery. But, since I have to wait for the minivan to pass, this gives the Challenger time to pull through as well and he is now back right behind me with HIS right turn signal on.

Hmmm... this might be fun.

The minivan passes and I wait a few seconds, taking a slurp of the icy Diet Pepsi and look up in my mirror to see the Challenger driver staring back.

The Offspring song, "Troublemaker" comes on the radio. Great timing I guess...

I s-l-o-w-l-y pull out onto Front Street and the Challenger nearly scrapes the bottom of his car bouncing over the uneven exit paving, hurrying to get out right behind me. I still have the tranny in "D" and the alky kit is still on...

He paces me for about 300 yards, still hanging off my driver's side rear quarter, as I slowly accelerate. The speed limit is only 35mph but this stretch of road is a boulevard in a now-defunct once industrial area that now mainly is bare land with foundational skeletons of once proud factories visible here and there.

In other words - a great place to get it on if the cops aren't around. And they are not around tonight, at least on Front Street. But, we still obey the law and keep it around 35-40mph.

We then go through a small construction area near I-280's overpass that crosses the Maumee. This is where the road necks down to a two-lane section and then opens back up to a five lane stretch before slowing at a stop light that is green followed by yet another light (red) at the next block. This is the last traffic light on this stretch of road, right beside Tony Packo's Cafe, a great place for food. On this evening, there a quite a few people coming and going from Packo's with some just standing on the sidewalk, enjoying the evening.

To a person, they all stop walking or what ever they are doing and stare at the GN and the Challenger that just pulled up to the light. They just KNEW something was going to happen... You could feel 'it' in the air...

Interestingly, there was no vehicle traffic at all at the moment, even on this warm Friday night... almost perfect.

We are stopped at the light and he is to my left. But - this is not a good place to run since there is a railroad track up ahead in about 300 yards or so. I have my window down and he sits beside me, the mellow rumble of his exhaust puncuating the evening air and clearly louder than mine.

His window is down too and I look over at his date (noting her uncanny resemblence to the pop-singer Pink) and he leans forward to say something.

"Want to run 'em?" he asks with a grin. 'Pink' just smiles approvingly at his words, obviously impressed with her date-du-jour, Studly Hungwell.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him, my grin slightly evil, watching one guy on the corner pointing at the GN and saying something to his two buddies... both of which then nod knowingly in response to something he says. All three just stare now...

"Sure -why not?" he laughs back, the confidence in his words very evident.

I'm not laughing but I am just grinning at them both.

"Man, I like your car but I don't want to embarass you, ok? Especially in front of your girl." I figure that might make him think again but actually - and to be honest - I knew it was bait to say that. He and his girl both laugh at what I say, obviously very confident in the powerful car they were sitting in.

"Aw, c'mon man... I know your old Buick is fast and all that, but this has the new 370 horse HEMI. I think I can take you!"

I look up at the light. Still red for us and green for the cross traffic that wasn't even there...

"Ok. Wait until we cross the railroad down there and nail it. I'll try to keep up, ok?" I did not grin this time...

That's all I said as I rolled up my dark tinted window. I watched the light and I can hear him revving the 5.7 Hemi...

I see the cross traffic's light go to yellow, meaning ours would be green and then it changes. He revs it, dumps the clutch, and does his best John Force impersonation, smoking the tires as he heads to the railroad crossing only about 300 yards away. He gets there first, has to brake hard, and is slowly crossing the rough track as I pull up.

We both cross the track and he waits until I get almost even with him (he's still rolling less than 5mph) and nails it.

Now, I've got to be honest - his car LOOKED and SOUNDED awesome! When he cut the horses loose, it was impressive.

That is, until I passed him in less than 2-3 seconds and the next 100'. I left him and his beautiful Challenger clawing the tarmac, growling in the dusty evening air. All the while Raven sounds like a Valkyrie, shrieking with fury under 22psi of boost on the AutoMeter A-Pillar gauge, the red light on the Alky controller glowing and indicating that cool, octane raising Alcohol was flowing through the braided steel line. (I checked the Scanmaster later and it only showed .8 knock max on the 2-3 shift.)

Man, I love 'old school'...

It was over before it began. Darn. Fun always ends much too quickly. Too bad the three guys back there in front of Packo's weren't closer to see this. Somehow though, I think at least one of them pretty much knew what was going down...

So, I slowed down - all the while keeping an open eye for a cop - as the dead Mopar eventually caught up. To his credit, he did not even try to do a Ricer fly-by. And, as he pulled up along side, he gave me another thumbs up as did Pink. I waved back as we were rolling towards the overpass. But, he slowed and then turned right as he dropped back and into a small subdivision before I got to my road that takes me over yet another railroad switching yard before I get to work.

Gotta give the kid props... he wasn't an jerk, he had a cool car, and he was a gracious loser. He took his 'education' like a man and not many kids do that.

I just would have liked to talk to him a bit but hey, I had to get to work and he obviously had somewhere he needed to be this late Friday evening... Not a bad way to pass the time on the way in.

(This story is 100% true. No Mopars were harmed in the sequence of events althought two of them were technically - and thoroughly - killed.)

[cbaracing]

that was a nice kill story

I know some of the roads he was on :)

[honduh_head]

sick. i lived in that area of the country for a while, would love to visit where he's from.

[honduh_head]

his response.... YAY :)

Hello Brad,

First off - thank you! I appreciate the kind words and do enjoy hearing from people like yourself that enjoy the stories and story line.

And - yes, the next chapter should be up within the next week. I just have not had the time to sit down and finish it but that should happen no later than Wednesday (fingers crossed!).

I work a rotating swing shift and often do not have much spare time. So, what I usually do (and most people find this hard to believe but it is absolutely the truth) is that when I get about an hour or two that is totally free, I sit down at the computer, pull up the WORD program and just write.

There is very little editing; usually just for spelling. What you have read in every chapter of every story was not given much thought at all other than making sure the continuity is there.

Like I said, I just sit down and write so what you read is fresh. While I usually have a concept in mind where I want the chapter/story line to go once I start typing, I do not have a story board or complete outline that I work from. It's just spontaneous thought put to print.

So, take care, keep in touch, and let me know how it goes. It's always nice to know that what I write is being enjoyed and followed. And tell your fellow board members to hang in there! This next chapter is going to be an exceptionally good one with a twist or two!

Best regards,
Steve Gibson

[rudsone]

i hate you

maybe it just looks long because its on a computer screen.


luvu :hello:

[rudsone]

his response.... YAY :)

if only he knew the "board members" didnt even read the story. only a handful have.


ill read it when i get a chance :snookems:

[adam]

his response.... YAY :)

oh mannn. haha I'm excited. lol

[honduh_head]

if only he knew the "board members" didnt even read the story. only a handful have.


ill read it when i get a chance :snookems:

i have this posted on multiple boards, and this is the only one where the people are too lazy to read it.

[honduh_head]

oh mannn. haha I'm excited. lol

i know d00d me toooooo


btw me likey your avatar ;)

[adam]

i know d00d me toooooo


btw me likey your avatar ;)

bahaha it fits in well, huh? Got tired of lookin at B series avatars. Switched it up a bit. lol

[honduh_head]

well me being the camaro guy that i am, of course i'm gonna like it ;)

although i like my lid better than that SLP one. hehe.

[Streeter]

updates??????

[BigTdawg]

i have this posted on multiple boards, and this is the only one where the people aren't smart enough to read it.


Fixt. :type:

[honduh_head]

Fixt. :type:

hahaha wurd.


btw his update thould be posted today :crosses fingers:

[honduh_head]

wellllllll..... no story yet. BUT. here's another one of his kill stories... errr KILLED stories to keep you entertained.... :)


We were both sitting at the light on a fairly quiet four lane street (late evening, not much traffic) and I saw him look over at me... I knew he wanted to go for it and since I hadn't had any serious action yet, I gave him a nod.

"Sure, cupcake... let's go" ran through my mind. He just grinned... and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care one way or another. Or, as if he knew something I didn't... Hmmm....

Nice lookin' car, I thought to myself as we waited. A lightning bug flickered over near the street lights that would be lit in a matter of minutes... the song 'Welcome to the Jungle' began to play in my head...

It was one of the classic notchbacks of the early '90's, about a 4" cowl that really looked tasteful on the car, bigs and littles, gorgeous dark red paint, and a very healthy exhaust note to go with the serious whine under the hood. Couldn't really tell if the whine was a blower or a gear drive set up but it wasn't going to matter...

He just looked like fresh meat to me.

So, we're both eyein' the light... He revs it a bit and I hear him working the shifter to make sure he was in 1st. I lean into it some myself, ready for the launch that was only a second or two away. Thankfully, I didn't see him purging any NOS lines...

GREEN.

Man, I lit into it and we were off, pretty much neck and neck for about half a block but then he began to ever-so-slowly pull me.

WTF???

I shifted manually at max power but he still walked me like I was his pet dog. Each of my shifts really hit HARD and snapped my neck and I thought the nose was lifting some with each one but it was to no avail... :frown: I just had to back out of it... no sense risking life and limb or an innocent bystander. I just let it coast back down...

Hate to admit it but dude, he beat me like a rented Grand Canyon mule...:eek: Sheesh...

But, being the good sport I am, I had to give him props at the next light as I pulled back up next to him.

"You gave me a better run than I thought you would!" he grinned, happy with his victory. I gave him a solid thumbs up and in blink, the light changed and he turned left. I was going straight...

I then realized that my face felt flushed, my breathing was heavy, and my heart was pounding.

I HATE to lose.

But hey, I was still proud of the run. I began to think about what I could do to wax his azz the next time we crossed paths.

The hot summer sun was slowly going down, casting long late-evening shadows across the road as I pulled away from the light... More lightning bugs flashed their little bottoms searching for a mate...

My mind was still racing... what should I do?

Hmmm... he obviously had a lot more mods than I do. Still, the loss stung - a LOT.

Then - it hit me! Maybe some grippier pedals? Yeah - that's the ticket. I'll get some new pedals for my Cannondale 24 speed bike.

I felt better now that I had a plan... I hope I see that Twinkie again, hopes of a rematch flitting through my head as I shifted into 19th gear and turned right at the next intersection, going back home... my evening ride in the bag.

:p

[BigTdawg]

HAHAHAHA!! I love how he made it sound like he was racing in his GN.

[Jermo537]

ive been reading this for 2 days now and im not even half way done...good lord!
this is a story that hooks you though, im not gunna lie it has been good!

[GunnRulF]

Great story! Where's the end? I wanna know what happends at the races! Damnit!

Toward the end I was like this story has it all (cars, racing, smuggling, etc.) except for T&N... Then at the last paragraph.. win!

:thumbsup::thumbsup::thumbsup:

[BigTdawg]

Up from the deep! Any updates on this bad mug yet?

[omgRUSerious]

143 pages, and 113,000 words so far.... excellent!!

[honduh_head]

no update yet... dude is killing me!

[jcamacho]

I stayed an hour late after work to read this and not even half done with the first installment. Good Shit, thanks. Where can I buy this book? Author?

[honduh_head]

I stayed an hour late after work to read this and not even half done with the first installment. Good Shit, thanks. Where can I buy this book? Author?

there's no book, so far you're reading a "blog" of sorts.

the guy's name is Steve

[jcamacho]

Okay, I'm finally caught up and read the whole thing. Now I join the others and wait, impatiently. I love a good read, and this is the best thing I've read in probably over a decade. Thanks

[honduh_head]

np man, glad you liked it.

i can't wait til he gets us an update.

[honduh_head]

;) ;)



hi guys... Man, i'm sorry but i have been beyond swamped. However, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I promise - there will be more up within the next few weeks but no later than october 1st. So, hang in there - it just keeps getting better.

[adam]

hi guys... Man, i'm sorry but i have been beyond swamped. However, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I promise - there will be more up within the next few weeks but no later than october 1st. So, hang in there - it just keeps getting better.

It's November.

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part 43
________________________________________

When I got back to the front of the track at the staging area the roar from the crowd was deafening. Not surprisingly, over half of the crowd was yelling cheers for the Buick but if I’m being honest here, there were just about as many cheering for having seen a Veyron run a high 9.9x! People were pouring from the stands to come see the Bug for a variety of reasons. And, just as many were waiting to take a look at a dinosaur that should not have done what it just did.

I saw the crowd around the Veyron, many taking pictures if they could get close enough. You just do NOT see these cars that often, much less at a drag strip. And to see one run that kind of time coming from straight off the street? Anybody who is a performance car junkie knew they had seen something they might never, ever see again.

As I slowed the car, I saw Sally being swarmed by the fans. As always, she had a huge smile on her face as she was explaining this or that about her ride. And when she saw me pull up, she gave me a thumbs-up with that gorgeous smile again. Sally is first class, all the way.

But – Kelly was there first and as I swung the wide door open, she leaned in and planted a huge one on me. That’s my girl!

“Way to GO, STEVE!” she grinned. “Nice job, especially since I think only a few of us gave you much of a chance against that beast over there!”

I knew she was being totally honest there. But the GN showed it had what it needed when the time was right and I was proud of what the UAW’s finest had built way back then…

We ended up not doing much more at the track after that. It took nearly an hour for the crowd to clear, all the while the sounds of cars of every shape and horsepower filled the evening air as the test and tune slowly got revved back up.

Eventually, we all said our good byes. Sally had to get the papers on over to the offices and get checked in to the hotel. We traded cell numbers, grabbed a few more warm hugs and made promises to check in with each other over the weekend.

The night was very young and with a new breeze picking up, it looked like the good weather was going to hold as predicted. As Kel and I got back in the Buick I could hear Stacy fire up the Camaro – no matter how big a fan I am of the Turbo Buick, I’ve got to admit a healthy V8 ALWAYS sounds awesome.

Stacy pulled up alongside the GN, the windows down on the F-body.

“Where we going next?” Brandon asked, looking so out-of-place sitting in the passenger seat. But – he did have a huge grin on his mug and I could tell he was having a great time too.

I looked over at Kel with a “Whacha think?” expression.

“I know” she said… “Let’s head up to Central Avenue by the car lots and see what we see. Whadayathink? I heard that the BMW dealer got in a new M6 and I would love to take a peak at it if its there and we can see inside the showroom windows.”

We all nodded our heads. Not just to look at the car lots mind you.

We also knew that some of the baddest cars in the city would be prowling the street as well on this warm Friday night. With all the great fast food restaurants, well lit car lots, and a steady flow of traffic on the 5-lane street, it was another great cruising scene as well as good place to pick up some action if you were so inclined.

And after the fun times we had just had at Tri-County, I wasn’t quite ready to head home just yet.

We waved at Sally as she headed the opposite direction and sped away and then we turned north on Reynolds to head up past Airport road to catch the Central Avenue intersection. Reynolds avenue is no small street in itself…

A lot of traffic flows up and down Reynolds. It’s a bustling 5 lane city thoroughfare that offers a lot of stop-light bandit action but you’ve GOT to watch it. Cops are everywhere and the presence of the speed/stop light enforcement cameras pretty kills any thoughts of a ‘race’ other than at the few intersections that do not have them.

But – Central Avenue is another story.

Central runs east and west and while yes, it is a city street it is wide and the visibility is great. For the few that like to blow off some steam (as long as the law enforcement types aren’t out), there is a lot of opportunity to play.

I used to street race. A lot, actually. But I learned how easily and quickly fun times can turn tragic and will not run on a public street that has traffic or pedestrian access. I have no qualms about running out on a public road in the country or maybe even a quick reaction time check at a light but if there is other traffic or the chance of someone stepping out or pulling out into my path? No way… not any more.

Our little caravan was working its way north up Reynolds. We would stop at the lights and occasionally pull alongside each other, often asking if the other had seen that particular car or this particular store, etc… It was exactly at one of these mutual stops that we all saw ‘it’…

Actually – we heard ‘it’ first.

Oh, it wasn’t one of those loud fart can exhaust noises that you can hear three blocks away. No, and it wasn’t the sound of a 5-liter Mustang with an H-pipe and flowmasters.

THIS sound was much, much more ominous. Very dark and throaty… a sound that reminded me of something back when I was in high school in the late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s.

[i]I had a buddy back then that worked with me at my first job bagging groceries (Doug) that had a big-block Nova SS (a ’69) that had a 396/375HP rat motor. Doug was a motor-head through and through and his Nova was far, far from stock. He never took it to a track that I knew of but his car was a giant killer on the street. He laid waste to everything he ran including Hemi Mopars, 440-6 pack Mopars, SCJ Fords, W-30 Oldsmobiles, and so forth. Looking back, I bet his car was easily a mid-9 second street mauler. Honestly, it was just about barely streetable.[.i]

But the fun thing? He drove it to work on the nice days and when we got off, he would let me ride in it with him when he went out hunting.

He paid off the Nova in less than a year including the mods with his winnings, it was THAT good. And its sound was something I had never heard since. He had Hooker headers on that car and Cyclone Purple Hornies.

Remember them? They were short little glass-pack mufflers (if you can call them mufflers) that didn’t really quiet the car but rather just took some of the sharpness out of the exhaust note. They bolted directly onto the header collectors and had a short turn-down to exhaust the gases beneath the car.

Most likely, they weren’t safe emissions-wise but hey, we didn’t know any better. I had seen Doug’s setup on other cars but NONE of them sounded like his.

So – here we sat at a light, the night had just begun, and we all heard it at the same time. From up ahead we could hear a very high performance car do a quick acceleration but it was when it slowed for the next intersection – still two lights up from where we were sitting – that we could hear the magical sound of a street monster.

Honestly? It sounded even HEALTHIER than Frankie. And that is scary.

Brandon looked over at me and yelled... “Sheesh, Steve – did you hear THAT? What IS that?”

“I don’t know B, but I think it’s heading towards us but it’s a light or two up yet. Either way, we should see it soon…”

About then, our light changed. We both accelerated slowly, keeping the exhaust noise down (as well as our windows), hoping to hear the car again.

The light ahead of us at the next block was green but as we pulled away from our intersection, we saw it turn red. On down the street, we saw the second light up go green. And that was when we heard it again.

Initially, as the light changed we heard a quick “Buh-WABBAH!!!” as the driver of whatever the freak was blipped the go-pedal and then accelerated away. We could see two pairs of headlights with the one closest to the sidewalk lagging behind the one in the near lane. We could not tell which was which but based on the noise, we knew it HAD to be one of those two cars.

The next intersection would reveal what it was.

I lagged a bit to pull in behind Stacy’s Camaro as we approached the intersection of Reynolds and Berne. To our left sat a demolished mall site, the anchor store having been a Montgomery Ward. Remember that chain? Well, now it was all a razed pile of rubble, the stores long demolished to make way for progress.

We got to the light ahead of the approaching two cars and by then, we were pretty sure the freak was in the near lane. The stance of the car was low and wide but until it got closer, we still couldn’t tell.

A Vette maybe? We were all guessing… even Kelly. “I don’t know Steve… it sounds like a huge big-block but the lights aren’t that familiar. What do you think, hon?”

“I don’t know Kel but I wonder if its one of the boys coming to town for the clash?”

“Hmmm… I bet it is,” she said as she was trying to see what the car was.

Up ahead, I could see Stacy and Brandon craning their necks too trying to sort out the mystery.

As the cars approached the light it got a little more visible. Whoever was in the outside lane actually got to the intersection first and then turned right. It looked like a Camry or an Accord, it was just hard to tell.
However, the other car was still hard to define due to the glare of the head lights approaching; the hellish exhaust note sounded like it might even have a hiss or perhaps a whistle/whine to it. Blown? We just didn’t know yet. One thing that did stand out was that it looked like MAYBE it had four headlights which pretty much meant it was likely to be an older muscle car of some sort. I just couldn’t tell for sure.

But the exhaust noise… OMG… it was mesmerizing and yet just as terrifying as the black GSX back in my garage. Maybe… worse.

Just then, Stacy revved the Camaro. It nearly made me jump out of my skin because she was RIGHT IN FRONT OF US! She did it – we found out later – to see if the other car would ‘answer’. We didn’t have to wait long.

It did and it did so with authority. “Buh-WABBAH!!!” and then it settled back into a steady drumbeat that whistled and whined and loped as if it was trying to die and kill something at the same time. Indescribable…

Just then, the driver of the Freak flicked his brights at Stacy. On – then back off.

I could see by the glare that Stacy did the same, not knowing why other than to respond we guessed.

We watched the traffic lights. The cross traffic light was still green and we were still sitting at a red light. But in seconds, the yellow caution illuminated in the cross lanes and then went red which meant we now had a green light.

In seconds, the mystery would be over. We heard the animal rev again and then accelerate. It had to be an automatic car because there was no discernable clutch engagement. Or at least, that was what it sounded like…

Stacy deliberately waited at the light and only pulled away slowly.

The other car did the same, and apparently for the same reasons.

I’m sure anyone looking on was wondering what was happening on Reynolds Road that night. In one lane, a dark ominous car was heading south with an exhaust sound that made your blood run cold. In the other lane and headed north were a new Camaro (with a rightfully nice exhaust noise of its own) and a whistling V6 Turbo Buick, all of which were barely moving as if eyeing each other, circling and weighing the opponent’s abilities, before grappling and dueling to the death as gladiators did centuries ago…

Then – we saw clearly what it was.

As ‘it’ rumbled past us it nearly stopped. The driver could not be clearly seen because of the shadows but it appeared that there were two people in the car, both of them leaning and looking across the street at us.

But the silhouette of the car gave it away once it was broadside to us.

The first thing that was surprising was the lack of any shine to the paint. The car had no shine whatsoever. It was as if it was painted in black primer or perhaps just flat black paint.

No shine at all… and it almost seemed to absorb light, not reflecting any back in any way.

The profile was distinctive. It was a Mopar; a long hood, rakish windshield that smoothly flowed back and cut down to the deck and trunk.

It was definitely a Dodge Charger from the Musclecar days…

A ’68 Charger to be exact… flat black, low slung, and with an exhaust note that – if you ever hear it – you will never, ever forget it. And now, it was prowling the streets of our city.

The Freak Show was now in town… and this was just the first one.
----------------

[ALLBLVCK]

any cliffs?

[honduh_head]

any cliffs?

no just read it. its worth the hour or two of your life.

[GunnRulF]

read it all ^ you will not be dissapointed

[honduh_head]

see ^

best story ever for a car guy

[skar1]

Finally an update! More plz

[bb4arson]

man i need to continue reading this later the man is a good story teller though

[honduh_head]

The air was getting cooler with each passing minute but it was still nice enough to keep your windows down.

Which, of course, made it all the easier to hear things... things that, you know, might scare women and little children…

I watched the tail lights of the Charger fade behind me as I looked in the small mirror on my door as we drove away from each other... There weren’t any ‘rev-contests’ or anything as he passed us… just the snarl and hiss of what had to be a big displacement block having huge volumes of air shoved into it. The whine/whistle was almost louder than the exhaust and it was hard to tell if part of it was actually coming from the exhaust.

Regardless, we knew what ‘it’ was for sure. ‘It’ was one of those factory freaks we were hoping would show.

I was tempted to turn around... maybe follow him or even hook up along side for a good look over but decided against it for a very good reason. I had no more than looked up from the mirror when we heard something else – and this is above the noise my GN was making.

This time, the noise was coming from somewhere behind us as the Charger drove off into the night... coming from perhaps off a side street like Glendale.

“Steve – what is THAT noise?” asked Kelly, craning her neck and twisting to try and look out the rear window or her door window.

“I don’t know Kel... but it sounds like it’s serious.”

“Why don’t we just pull over and see what – if anything - drives by? You never know, it might turn and go south like the Charger did...” she asked.

“Good idea, Hon... Even if that thing back there doesn’t come this way, I think we’ll see something very interesting and very soon...”

Since B and Stacy were to our right; Kelly just motioned them over to the small plaza’s parking lot ahead.

We had no more than parked facing the street when we heard the unmistakable sound of a very high compression engine that had to be running a very high lift cam and essentially open headers coming from our left.

No doubt. THIS was the same car we had just heard.

And we heard this OVER the Camaro and GN that were BOTH still idling.

The street lights were all on now but the glare of some headlights prevented from seeing what had just turned north onto Reynolds and was coming towards us.

“Man, Steve...” Brandon was out of the car and standing near Kelly’s window, leaning down and looking in towards us.

“That Charger was awesome but what the hell is THIS thing coming at us?”

“We’ll soon see, I guess...” was all I could mumble. I reached up and turned off the GN, figuring it had idled enough... Stacy had already shut down the Camaro.

What ever it was it had stopped at the light, two down from where we were parked, and there had to be a car or maybe even two between ‘it’ and us. Kelly, Stacy and I all got out now and walked around to the front of the Buick, looking south.

The smell of food hung in the air with several restaurants off a block or two west of us... A smoky, BBQ, mesquite mix tantalized our nostrils and we just then realized that we were about a block away from Smokey Bones, yet another great place to eat, known for its ribs and – oddly enough - even its smoke-flavored Baked Beans.

But seeing the light turn green and hearing the car rev up to leave wiped any thoughts of food from our collective minds. The driver was simply driving and my best guess was he too was headed up to Airport Road then west to get out near the string of hotels and motels that dot the landscape of the area.

What ever it was – and we would soon see – NONE of us had ever heard this car in town before... we were sure of it. Like the Charger, once you hear it? You will never forget it.

But then, the light closest to us went yellow then red so the traffic stopped again. Dang! More waiting time – this was almost as bad as sitting on Woodward Avenue in August during the Dream Cruise – the suspense was killing us...

“What do you think it is, Steve?” asked B.

“My guess is it’s either a big block Chevy of some sort or perhaps another Hemi? I don’t know... but man, that’s just a guess...”

“I’m betting it’s a big Chevy” teased Stacy, patting the fender of her Camaro as she grinned.

I had to admit it – her Camaro was awesome and I have always held a fondness for the Camaro in particular. I’ve had SEVERAL of them over the years and a few were pretty wicked. But nothing as wicked sounding as what was about to near us...

A one-off COPO Camaro or Chevelle maybe? Maybe an evil incarnation from Doc Oldsmobile; perhaps a W-series creation? We just couldn’t tell... at least – not yet.

‘It’ was in the lane near the center so we couldn’t see it at all because there were still cars in front of it. However, I thought I could make out the roofline of the car I THOUGHT it might be... hmm... Nah... impossible, I remember thinking.

Off to our right some noise rustled which made both girls jump. Glancing over, we saw a huge Calico street cat with a bobbed tail jump out of small trash dumpster, a big mouse in its jaws as it raced around the corner of the building and out of sight.

“Sheesh!” sighed Kelly. “That darned cat nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Just be glad you aren’t that mouse” joked Brandon...

We all chuckled as we watched the near light begin to sequence and the traffic begin to move...

Then, there ‘IT’ was coming into view... it had what appeared to be a long hood... a short rear deck... actually a fastback look... two headlight areas inside a grille area and two more just outside the grille (that were on)... parking lamps beneath the outer headlights... but my God... the sound...

It had a smooth hood with no shaker or any other protrusion like a blower...

A couple of smaller cars glided by but we could not even hear them... the noise now was nearly deafening, sounding almost like an open header NASCAR engine...

NASCAR...

This car was also a dark color but until it got in the glare of the street lights, we didn’t know for sure exactly what shade it was. Then, we saw everything we needed to see to know that this was no ordinary car either. More details emerged as the car neared us and the street lights we were under...

On the top of the rear quarter that was visible we could see a small ‘scoop’ of some sort just behind the door... and what appeared to be a ducktail style spoiler on the rear deck...

Yep, it had a NASCAR affiliation of sorts which explained some of the noise I guess (ok, it was the exhaust but hey, you’ll understand soon enough...). And honestly, I would have wagered a paycheck he was running open headers... it was thunderous and Biblical at the same time.

It drove by accelerating briskly, the driver effortlessly changing gears... the color? Oh, it wasn’t a GM color at all.

Nor was it a MOPAR color.

It was a FORD color. Almost a deep, red color – a color that I haven’t seen very often at all on this style of car... I think they called it Candy Apple Red but for me it wasn’t that ‘Candy’-looking... it was more ‘blood red’... and yes, it was on a Ford...

It was a Mustang. A 1969 to be exact... and I have never heard a Mustang sound like this one except for maybe Bob Glidden’s Pro Stock rides from back in the day...

This one wasn’t a Pro Stock car at all. But if you close you eyes, you just might be fooled.

NHRA Pro Stock? Or, NASCAR? Sometimes, those two influences mix... usually resulting in lots of decals most of the time. Not this time...

THIS car only had one very small ‘ghost’ decal. It was on the lower front fender behind the wheel opening and it was kind of hard to see as it passed by. But, since it was white against the darker red it finally became legible...

However - for us, the decal didn’t really match the hood of the car. Why? Well, because every one of these cars we’ve seen before has ALWAYS had a huge functional scoop. A scoop that is body colored on a ’69 and black on a ’70 of this model.

This car’s hood was smooth with no scoop at all.

The decal? Well, that was odd too. Why? Because it wasn’t ‘complete’. It simply said:

BOSS

Not “BOSS 302” or “BOSS 429”. No, it just said “BOSS”.

“What the hell is THAT car, Steve? ‘Boss’ WHAT?” I could only shrug as I was tempted to plug my ears with my fingertips...

I watched it as it went on by, noting that there were two enormous square-tipped exhaust outlets exiting the CENTER rear of the car – yes, beneath the rear Michigan license plate – that read simply ‘BOSS1 OF1’. So much for open headers. Now, whether it had any mufflers was beyond debate – it had to be open pipes.

We watched it go on North down Reynolds... I was already moving...

“I don’t know Brandon but my curiosity has got the best of me on this. ‘Boss1 OF1’? Definitely has to be a freak. Let’s go see if we can catch up to it and find out....”

Before my word ‘out’ was off my lips, Stacy had the Camaro fired and Kelly was buckling up her seat belt...

[koby]

read first page. got tired.

[2poor2tune]

wowwwwww.. that was alot to rear. haha jk i didn't read anymore than the first couple sentences

[honduh_head]

jesus tucson ppl are lazy.

[skar1]

Fuckk, I was picturing that mustang with a hard on the whole time lol

[honduh_head]

hahaha. scary ^

[skar1]

Lol, gotta keep updating man, ill forget some of it and go back and skim through then read the new part so I can remember but its a badass story he has to get this published 1 day

[honduh_head]

i think thats his goal...this is his rough draft... we're just the privileged ones to get to read it as he goes.

[VTECin5th]

When it's all done, I wanna turn this into an audiobook and put it on YouTube. Nobody should have to try to read this much text on a forum. My fucking eyes burn, so many descriptive words that don't need to be there. For the love of fucking God, this story hurts.

Good story though.... so far anyway.
Fuck me. took me like an hour to read that and I skipped a lot of paragraphs that weren't needed.

[mad_jdm98]

i just spent 4 hours reading it and im not even half way done..i must either read hella slow or im just that interested in it lol..well i kinda did read back a few times to clarify a few things. but im most deff gonna try to finish this tomorrow night for sure

[honduh_head]

bump :)

[DrDanni]

Sweet jesus. I think my right middle finger just gained 50% more muscle.

[honduh_head]

lol from scrolling down?

[TucsonEuroCamry]

wow, i read the first 3/4 of it, thats insane

[Rufus]

This....again?

[96accordsir]

I got the first post read. its pretty amazing so far!

[honduh_head]

This....again?

Um nope. Figment of your imagination.

[The_Reverend]

Too much to read...

[nelsmar]

i remember making it like 1/4 the way back when it was posted... whew


and lol @ brad for bumping this thread.

[cbaracing]

bump :)

was the story ever finished?

[crxhfb16]

print preview says its 116 pages holy fuck

[honduh_head]

was the story ever finished?

not that i know of... i'll go see :)

[siccvic]

I'm at work, but I'm not that bored. I work this weekend and I'm sure I'll get to it. I'm still laughing becuase of the scroll down. I was like :shocked:

[honduh_head]

he has many other short stories btw... here's his site:

http://www.richsgn.com/RAVEN/

i pm'd him to see when/if he'll have an ending any time soon

[Jason.AZ1]

:(



lol

[nelsmar]

i really wanna know what jason said now =x

[Nachooooosupreme]

Eating breakfast at brawleys..

Its gonna be a good day dammit!!

[honduh_head]

he didn't say anything... just quoted the entire freakin thread.

[Th3 Mugen]

Got home from Auto class, started reading and got really into it, lost track of time and i was late for school, just got home from school and now it's time to finish this!!
Got 1/4th way through, and it's really good.

[honduh_head]

seeee ^ i'm not the only one!

[honduh_head]

Hello, Actually, yes. I've been thinking it's time to wrap it up so with winter here and a little free time, I'll get it wrapped up.

It's all in my head but it's complete. Thanks for asking!

Steve


It's been quite a long time since I have chatted with you, but I had to ask you something... are you working on an ending for the "Its been one of those days" short story? i made the mistake of bumping my thread about your story, and now i'm getting harassed for an ending like it's a crack pipe lol. Anyway, thanks for your time, and thanks for the stories.

-Brad

yesssss

[Th3 Mugen]

yesssss
I <3 You
I'm at the part right after the Buick Vs Chargar race, the part where they start talking about the infamous April 1st race. I can't stop reading this damn story!! It's sooo good, "it's like a bad wet dream, it never ends".

[Th3 Mugen]

Starting on the Second page part, this is getting really good, it goes so fast, the plots great, and the detailed description of the muscle cars? Omg, makes me want to sell my car and pick something up with a lot more cylinders, hahah

[Jason.AZ1]

i really wanna know what jason said now =x
It was pretty epic, so epic it was the only post deleted in this thread. Just wonder how much awesomeness I posted maybe the ending of the story that someone else wanted to post or maybe some bs or maybe the secret to life...

he didn't say anything... just quoted the entire freakin thread.
Don't lie to Nelsmar he deserves better then that tell him how epic the post really was my good sir. Good day now.

[Jason.AZ1]

he didn't say anything... just quoted the entire freakin thread.

Also quote the whole thread lolz thats dumb and rude. I wouldnt do that.:smackself:

[honduh_head]

Starting on the Second page part, this is getting really good, it goes so fast, the plots great, and the detailed description of the muscle cars? Omg, makes me want to sell my car and pick something up with a lot more cylinders, hahah

see?! shit is epic! i want to reread it actually. it goes by fast once you get going.

[Th3 Mugen]

see?! shit is epic! i want to reread it actually. it goes by fast once you get going.
It does go byfast, but it is sooo damn long, i'm not even done (i did steal a quote from it and made it my sig). I might try to finish tommorow, but until then i think it's COD time.

[Bill Cosby]

Fuck

[lowriderferio]

my head hurt

[honduh_head]

didn't pass 8th grade i see....

[accordmuff]

I'd rather fap fap then read that long ass homo story
Seems legit though write a novel bout it nigga
Get it on cassette n ill check it out

[phatman]

I think I started reading this last Thursday. Just got to this page today. I haven't been pulled into a story in a long time, no thanks to school and the repetitive read this and write about it or you won't graduate high school BS.

Fantastic read. I don't know why anyone would pass this story up. If it were to make it to actual paper form, I'd buy it in a heartbeat. :thumbsup:

[Atomic-Orange-Turbo-Sloth]

bump :)
x22222

[PandaBear]

Longest post of Azht history

[Atomic-Orange-Turbo-Sloth]

Longest post of Azht history
fo realz i wuz lyk dam

[Smashinhatch]

I don't think there is enough "cool story bro pics" to describe this thread. Wish I could read it its just way to long.

[Pitchfork311]

Nice Thesis, Doctoral degree FTW

[Dedspool Superior Tuned]

definitely a cool story bro...... and i mean dat!

[540dude]

someone summarize this...

[honduh_head]

thanks to those who actually took the time to read... i'm not even the author, just glad to post up something i felt was worth everyone else reading.

[k otik]

someone summarize this...


It just took me 4.5 hours to read it all in one sitting. If you can't read that much at a time just read 30 minutes of it a day and you should be done in a week or so. Once you get into it though time will pass by quick.

Also like others have said I need moar.

[eg2 panda]

Fuck it...gave up, too long I was on the forum app and that shit came out to be 80 pages.

[Th3 Mugen]

Fuck it...gave up, too long I was on the forum app and that shit came out to be 80 pages.
I have it on a word document and it's about 250+ Pages. I'm on 240 ish.

[failedabortion]

Was a good read for those with actual automotive passion...did it all on my phone lol. Only thing that bothered me was that some of the descriptions were exact copies(engines starting exhaust tones etc)

[honduh_head]

It Was One of Those Days - Part 45

My mind was racing, thinking about the freak of a Mustang we had seen a few minutes earlier, guessing what the darn thing had for a motor to sound like it did. My mind told me that it had to be some variation of the Semi-Hemi Boss 429 as I twisted the square key in the ignition, lighting off the GN’s mill.

I’ve been around a few Boss ‘9s - the engine was actually not a great street-strip motor due to the heads and the setup since it was really a NASCAR motor by design. A good tuner could get them to scream but from the factory, the 428 and 429 CJs and SCJs were better choices for the street/strip crowd.

I pulled the transmission into R, backed up carefully to avoid Stacy’s Camaro, snicked the handle into D and begin to roll up to exit the lot...
My mind-trip continued... the cost of a Boss ‘9 was prohibitive to most folks. Dealers actually had a hard time selling them which is hard to believe in this Barrett-Jackson feeding frenzy for old muscle. But, it’s true - dealers had Boss ‘9s actually languish on their lots... Man, if we had only known...

Just as we were about to pull out onto Reynolds, Kelly spoke and broke my stroll down memory lane.

‘Um, Steve? You may want to wait - look at that!’ Brandon was right behind me and I could see that he was leaning out his window, looking and waving at us to look South, the same direction that Kelly was already pointing. Actually, I could hear it before I even saw it... maybe, it would be better to say I felt it.

Sitting at the next light down was some vehicle that had a wicked idle and an extremely loud - but not sharp - exhaust that you felt in your chest. Almost the way a Nitro T/F dragster’s exhaust pounds your soul with each cylinder’s firing. And to its immediate left, in the inside lane, looked like the headlights of the Boss Mustang we had seen just moments earlier.

Or, at least they looked like it. It was hard to tell for sure which car had the louder exhaust but it seemed to be the one nearest the curb.

The air was really cool now and the sound carried easily in the night air... as did the smell of some very exotic race gas, perhaps with some alcohol or other octane inducing concoction. The headlights behind the two cars allowed us to see a faint exhaust plume, the silhouette of the person in the passenger side of the one car was framed by the lights behind as that person leaned out to apparently have some conversation with the driver of the as yet unknown freak.

Kelly touched my hand, her skin warm and soft... ‘Steve - I think that one is a Pontiac, maybe a GTO?’ Her voice trailed off... I know that Kelly has always had a soft spot for a Poncho, especially a Goat. It could be...

Just then, we saw the lights begin to sequence and the passenger of the ‘Mustang?’ was no longer visible.

By now, Stacy and Brandon were back out of the Camaro, Brandon at my door and Stacy next to Kelly’s watching and listening as the two thumpers revved up and moved out, even passersby on the sidewalk stopped and stepped a little further back from the curb. One lady even held her fingers in her ears... Couldn’t say I blamed her.

The ‘Mustang’ and the Pontiac (by now, we could tell it was the body style of a 68-72 GM and Kelly at least ‘wanted’ it to be a GTO) were coming closer. The Pony car was a stick, the other an automatic with a high stall converter.

We watched and listened. Suddenly, all hell broke loose! Both cars, while still in first gear, suddenly lurched and the lights of both shot upwards as the drivers matted the pedals and the tires bit. Both of the freaks easily lifted their front tires a good foot or more off the pavement as we all watched in disbelief!

How in the hell was that possible? The pavement was cold, the air was cool and yet, here we just watched two cars pull their front tires??? If someone had told me that, I would have called them a liar.

But - I just saw it done and there were four of us!

In a split second, both cars were upon us and had backed out of it, the front end coming down hard but solidly. They rolled on by us with the driver of the closest car looking over at us. I did not recognize the driver.

But she was definitely a girl. And it was another Mustang but an older one. This one was a ’67 Shelby with no markings. The only way we could tell (assume?) it was one of Ol’ Shel’s cars was that it had the body work which included the duck tail spoiler, the tail lights, the front end work and the quarter window scoops.

There were no stripes or markings and it had to be a big block. To be honest, we only really glanced at it.

Why? Because when we saw what was in the far lane, we kind of just forgot about the Mustang.
Because it was not a GTO. It wasn’t a Chevelle, nor was it a Buick.

It was an Oldsmobile. Probably one that started life as a Cutlass or 442, perhaps. It was all black - and it did not reflect any light. Looked like it had a matte black paint job.

The mill in that car sounded very, very healthy and we just sat in stony, cold silence as it passed by. Two things caught our attention the most.

One - the odd hood. Instead of the usual twin snorkel set up you would see on Doc Oldsmobile’s W-series, this one had a stock looking hood with a power bulge in the center with an opening at the rear for some sort of ‘Cowl Induction’ effect.

But the other detail that caught our eye was some old but still legible writing in the rear window. We knew then and there that this was not a normal Oldsmobile. It was only a few hand written words but one that anyone familiar with GM’s Oldsmobile division knew meant power.
It simply said, W-30 PROTO’ with this name below it ‘JOHN BELTZ’.

We watched the tail lights move on north on Reynolds... and that was when we saw the next freak’s head lights.

This was turning into a real Woodward Avenue - very, very quickly...

[honduh_head]

yesssss i needed that.

[93CivicSi]

#46 is on TurboBuick.com

[k otik]

#46 is on TurboBuick.com
Found it.

46

And so it went for about another hour or so, at least until we got tired of waiting to see more and decided to head home. Actually, I think most everyone was already in for the night.

Kelly needed to get up early for work and even though I had a rare day off in the middle of the week, I had a lot to do so we decided to call it a night.

Well – at least that was the plan.

We had just pulled out of the parking lot and were headed south on Reynolds, doing about 30 or so past the Meijer store when we rolled up to the light that had just changed to red. I don’t recall exactly what we were talking about but the traffic was light and the stereo was down low with Kelly leaning back in the bucket seat with her eyes closed, about ready to nod out.

It was just then I saw another set of lights coming from behind – regular headlights with a set of fog lights below in what had to be the front fascia. We were still in the inside lane - about 2 more lights up we would be turning onto the Trail to head over and catch the bypass.

I didn’t really think much about what the other car was, really. By this point it was pretty late and I certainly wasn’t looking for any action. But as we sat at the light, the car that was at first directly behind us and slowing to stop suddenly moved over to the right lane and then pulled up alongside.

I glance over to see what the car was mainly because it had a fairly healthy exhaust note. As I did, I notice that it’s a late model Mustang but it has a different hood on it from most I had seen around town. It had a set of twin air intakes up near the front and what looked to be vents of some sort towards the rear of the hood. I couldn’t see the markings on the side of the car due to its closeness to us but just then, Kelly stirred and set upright, the Ford’s exhaust note like an alarm clock.

‘What is that Kel – can you see the fender tag?’ I asked, craning my already stiff neck.

‘Steve, I believe it’s a Super Snake, and it does sound good’. Kelly has as good an eye for cars as I do, if not better, and her attention to detail never ceases to amaze me.

“I know you can’t see it from where you are sitting Steve but the hood has locks, it is definitely a KR or Snake hood, and it’s got that weird looking spoiler on the back along with some shiny Alcoa rims on it. I’m guessing it’s a late model Super Snake – that isn’t a stock sounding blower on there either - and listen to the cam noise...’

It looked very similar to Brandon’s GT500 but was even more muscular looking.

Just then, the light changed and the Mustang lurched out ahead of us. Now, it’s dark, there isn’t any traffic to speak of but you really have to watch for the local constabulary in this part of town. However, the Pony driver either was from out of town or didn’t care because just as I was pulling about even with him, he floored it after clutching it and then dumped it.

The car – black as the darkest night and with a single thick satin black stripe down the center and a narrow stripe to each side of the thick one – jumped sideways as the enormous horsepower tried to melt the rubber from the rears. The tires didn’t hook but it was one impressive sound and sight to see it when it did and it left what looked to be at least 12” wide black, swoopy ‘S’ shaped marks on the pavement.

I didn’t take the invitation. Well, at least not that one – I’m just not anxious to donate money to the local policeman.

The light up ahead was changing and I saw the brake lights of the Shelby glow red as he slowed to a stop, obviously waiting for us to pull along side.

‘Steve – are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she grinned.

‘Well, I think so – why don’t you roll down your window as we pull up and see if he’s got anything to say. That tint is so dark on his car I can’t even tell you if there’s a driver in there!”

Kelly laughed. ‘I was thinking the same thing’ as she hit the switch and her window s-l-o-w-l-y made its way downward. (Is it me or do these Turbo Buick windows move the slowest of any EVER made?)

The Shelby’s exhaust was very lump and the whine of the blower was easy to hear as we pulled up. It was then we saw the driver’s side window down and when we looked in, I must admit that the both of us were really surprised.

Expecting to see some kid in daddy’s new toy – or ‘daddy’ himself - driving the car, we were shocked to see it was – a damn good looking young woman! And, beside sat what had to be her twin!

“Hi!” she waved – “How do y’all like my car?”

It was all Kelly could do to keep from laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was from surprise or from the thick southern accent but either way, it struck her funny.

“I like it a lot” I said. “Is it a Super Snake? We didn’t see any badging…” Kelly added.

The passenger was leaning over so we could see both of them easily now. Definitely twins – and hot ones at that, both of the smiling with the whitest teeth I had ever seen this side of a tooth paste commercial!

Holly spoke – “Yeah, I just got it about a month ago. I sent my car out to Vegas to Uncle Carroll’s place – he’s my uncle in case you didn’t know? – and he fixed it up really nice. It’s an ’11 model so it’s got the aluminum block – hey! Is that a Grand National you’re driving? We LOVE those cars!”

‘Uncle Carroll’? Surely she wasn’t talking about Carroll Shelby himself but it sure added up – Vegas, ‘Carroll’ – it had to be. My mind raced – who were these two? It was then the passenger spoke up…

“I used to have a GN myself, well, actually it was a WE4 but I sure loved it. I sold it last year and bought a newer Z06 to go with my GT-R. My sister here – her name is Holly and I’m Molly (another big toothy white smile!) – and I are what a lot of people call big motor heads. Do y’all wanna race? And who are you two?”

Wow – nothing like getting right down to it, I thought. Kelly was chuckling again but it was obvious those two were looking for some good, ol’ fashioned fun.

“Tell us about your car – I’m Kelly and this is my husband, Steve” grinned Kelly as we waited for the light.

“Well, it started out as the 550 HP GT500, but Uncle Carroll told me he had something very special for my car when ever I got one. I’ve wanted one of these GT500s for a long, long time and when I saw this one being unloaded off the transporter – I was just driving by one day and there it was! – I knew I had to have it. I traded in my 2010 GT on it and got a really good deal. Oh look – the light’s a changin’ – wanna pull over for a minute and talk?”

“Sure” said Kel, “pull over there in that parking lot”

The light changed and we followed the Snake in pulling alongside under the glow and buzz of the mercury lights.

Now, I’m not a huge Mustang fan but I’ve got to tell – that car was sick. The twins hopped out as we pulled up and OMG, they were easy on the eyes too!

The driver – was it Holly? – was already loosening the hood hold downs and raising the hood before I could get out of the GN. Kelly beat me to the front of the Mustang, obviously as interested as I was.

The Modular motor was still idling – if you can call rump-a-rump-a-rump,rump an idle – and the blower was whining like a banshee. God, it sounded awesome…

“What did you uncle do to this? Kelly asked as I admired the gleaming power plant. “And, just for clarification, is your uncle Carroll Shelby?”

They both looked at each other and burst out laughing! “No silly, but you didn’t know that, did you? No, our uncle’s last name is Stone and he’s our Mama’s brother. But – he works for Mr. Shelby in Vegas and that’s who did the work for me!”

“What did he do?” I asked, still not sure what to expect.
“Well, it’s actually a secret that very few know about but this car now has the 2013 GT500 motor in it. Have y’all heard about it?”

Had we? Probably the worst kept secret was that the 2013 Shelby was going to be a Camaro ZL1 killer – bone stock – and that it would have well north of 600hp.

Well – it was WAY north of 600. 650 to be exact. And – the Bowtie Boys’ ship is sunk before it even gets out of port…

“So you’ve got 650 HP – or more?” Seeing the huge black blower sitting on top, I knew it wasn’t stock either, 2013 motor or not.

Holly grinned but played coy. “Well – what’s your names again? – it’s got a little more than that. That blower right there? It’s an experimental TVS that Mr. Shelby got for my uncle – it’s supposed to be bigger than the biggest Whipple, use less Horsepower to drive it, but make more power. The only downside is the noise – my lord, it whines more than Molly does!”

They both laughed at the joke and so did we.

Kelly asked ‘So, did they dyno the car?’

‘Um, yeah… and uncle Carroll said I really shouldn’t say how much since this new blower isn’t on the market just yet. But I will tell you this – with this new 5.8 liter block, the tune that uncle Carroll did, and the blower/exhaust and cams – y’all knew that exhaust isn’t stock too, right? – it’s nearly a thousand horsepower. I love this car! See those back tires? Those are 345’s - and are an experimental size drag radial made special by M&H for Mr. Shelby - and they barely fit! But - uncle Carroll got ‘em mounted on some modified Alcoa rims for me. I don’t remember the back spacing but they just barely fit.”

I was already walking around the back side of the Snake as Kelly and the girls kept talking. I kneeled down to look at the rear tires from behind – my God, they WERE wide! But they fit nice and snug within the wheel wells so they looked good. I noticed a few thin ‘tread’ lines in the tires, a design I had never seen before. Barely DOT street legal but I’m sure they met the letter of the law…

The car looked awesome. Looking over at the GN, it looked sinister as always but this car looked even more so. And I bleed Turbo Buick blood.

As I came round the passenger side, Kelly turned and spoke – ‘Steve, the girls want to know if we want to race?’

“Sure – why not?” I chuckled. “I don’t think we can do much against this monster but I’m always up for a good race. Do you guys have a favorite spot or do you want to follow us?”

Molly shrugged. “Do y’all want to follow us? We’ve got a private place – it’s our daddy’s private air strip - we like to go to that’s off the beaten path but very safe. Actually, we were heading there when we spied your GN and wanted to say ‘hi’ so, yeah, just follow us, ok?”

“We’ll be right behind you!” laughed Kelly as we all began to get back in the cars. I hadn’t realized the GN was still idling – the Mustang was so loud I never gave it a thought.

“This should be fun – oh well, so much for getting a little more sleep!” laughed Kel. “But I want to see that Mustang run’ she mused…’I will be stunned if it can get that much power – if it truly has that much – to the ground!”

“I agree babe. But, the suspension on that car might be worked a bit too so you never know. Either way, we’ll give her a go.”

We ended up out in the country, south of town about 10 minutes. As we got closer, I could see the glow of some lights that looked like you see on any fall night when a football stadium has a home game.

We pulled in to a wide concrete drive and waited for just a moment as the wide security gate was activated and swung open. Off to the left, we noticed two deer near the fence, staring at the rumbling machines but not afraid of them. As the black iron gates parted silently, we followed the Snake in and I could see the gates shut again in my rear view mirror.

The house and buildings sat back off the road about 500 feet. There were three (maybe four?) large buildings and it was obvious that at least two of them were big enough to hold an airplane - or two. It was funny – Kelly and I had been out on this road many times but just never noticed the place.

We continued on past the huge house (we found out later it was over 6000 square feet) on the left of the drive, noting the attached 4-bay garage and the detached 4 bay garage – all brick of course. Plus the other buildings (hangars?)

The glow we saw in the sky moments earlier? Not from a football game of course - but the pro-stadium quality lights that were flooding what must be the runway and adjacent taxi-way were all on. You could do brain surgery on the pavement, it was that well lit.

The Super Snake slowed to a stop as we pulled up to a wide white line on the tarmac strip. Off to the right of us sat two light aircraft, tied down, and – OH MY GOD! – one of them was a P51 Mustang! Next to it? A Vought F4U Corsair with the wings folded! Holy crap – these people clearly had some deep pockets.

Kel and I pulled along side of the Shelby – to its right - and I rolled my window down, my eyes had to still be bugged out.

“See those planes over there, guys? Those belong to our daddy – he loves to fly! And that Mustang is my favorite! Daddy normally keeps ‘em inside but he was up flying earlier tonight and he’s taking them both up again tomorrow morning so he left ‘em out. Neat, huh?”

I noticed the nose art on the P51 that was typical of WWII planes. The bright aluminum airframe nearly glowed in the dark and the words ‘Hun Killer’ were easy to read. Nice – and it even looked like the .50 cals were still in the wings! Well, at least the openings and barrels – real or not – were there. I also admired the exhaust ports of the huge Merlin engine and noted the underbelly radiator. The P51 turned the tide of the air war over Europe back in the day and had it not come along, the war might have gone on much longer and maybe even turned out differently. The bomber boys will always tell you those Mustangs saved the day for them; the Nazis? Well, they feared them and with good reason.

And the Corsair? It was pure Navy – deep, ocean blue paint with the checkerboard tail pattern. The huge 4-blade prop glistened in the dark, its yellow tips contrasting nicely, just waiting for the big radial engine to come back to life. Both canopies were shut but being the WWII buff I am, I knew I had to come back soon to look inside both and hear and see these war birds take flight. Both planes had visible hard-mounts beneath the wings for drop tanks and weaponry such as bombs or rockets. They were both period correct.

“Y’all ready to have some fun? Watch this…” Somebody’s voice snapped me out of the trance…

Molly walked over to a small console between the two paved stripes, pressed some series of buttons, and the entire panel lit up. She then hit a large yellow button and immediately we heard the whine of electric motors and the sound of large metal objects being moved.

Just in front of us, two metal plates that I hadn’t even noticed parted and out from the ground rose what had to be an NHRA-style Christmas Tree right in the center of the pavement At the base of it were the transmitters for the pre-stage and stage lights which was when I noticed the receivers at the far edge of either side of the pavement. Wow.

“Neat, huh, guys? Look down yonder too!”

Our gaze looked on down the strip and it was then we saw 1320 feet away two large timing lights just like you see at any professional drag strip. They were now illuminated with enormous red digits, all zeros.

“Our daddy loves to race too, maybe you’ll get to meet him some time – I think he’s already in bed right now though… but daddy sure loves his drag racing…”

“We sure would like that!” I said a bit too loudly but dang, those planes! And this place! Who has that kind of coin around here – and, that I had never heard about? I was wondering what other aircraft this guy had…

“Y’all are familiar with drag racing with timers, right? I know you are, silly me! I’ve got a remote starter in the car – it’s like a garage door opener, sort of, hahahaha! – and I can use it start the tree once we both are staged. Y’all ready? Molly likes to ride and I like to ride with her or do y’all want to just do drivers only? I’ll beep the horn before I hit the start button so y’all be listening, ok?”

“Sounds good – but I need to let some air out of my DRs so give me a minute, ok?”

Molly laughed – “Oh, I almost forgot that too!” I saw her pull a tire gauge from the center console as I was adjusting the air pressure in the rears, she did the same.

“Now, let’s have some fun” I laughed as I finished, slid into the seat, and pulled the door shut. Kelly was already in the car and I doubted if I could have got her out of it anyways. We were both still in shock and awe at this place. I reached down and tripped the solenoid for the cutout. The GN’s exhaust was now dumping straight out beneath the car via the 3” opening and while it sounded good, it wasn’t a V8 sound.

Hell, I didn’t care. It STILL sounds damn good! I also checked to make sure the alky injection kit – progressive of course – was armed. It was and I knew the tank was full.

Holly was already pulling up to the line. It was then I noticed the dashed white stripe going down the center of the tarmac provided a perfect lane divider.

The timing tree glowed silently and a quarter mile away, the timing boards sat silent with their large red zeros glowing angrily in the night. The night sky was bright anyhow with a nearly full moon making it hard to see the stars.

I eased off the foot brake a bit and on into the lights.

The prestage bulb lit. Molly tripped hers right after.

Molly then tripped her second yellow bulb – she was now staged and already was bringing up some rpms. The monster 5.8’s rough idle was gone and in its place was a very loud and foreboding growl as the engine speed began to climb.

I tripped the second yellow and then hit the transbrake button, simultaneously pressing down the throttle to bring the motor up against the converter. The Turbo hissed and the car began to strain against the transbrake, eager to loose itself of those forces holding the V6 back.

My finger was on the release and the boost was already over 10 psi. The Snake was now roaring beside us and I could hear it easily over the angry hiss of the GN… Like two fighters on a carrier deck, straining against the release to seek flight, both cars were now armed, locked, and loaded.

I could barely hear the horn of the Shelby – BEEP! - but we were ready. Then - the ambers begin to drop down…

The GN was now in its element. All it was ever built for, despite what many might think, was to do battle machine versus machine. Like so many that came before, it’s only true purpose ever was to beat and humiliate any other mechanical opponent to death. In 1987, it was the quickest production car made and it has always worn that badge with pride and honor.

And no matter what it may have looked like to anyone else, in spite of having two cylinders less than that black monster to our left, I knew we had a chance. And, a damned good one I felt.

Because this GN – just like its big freak brother Frankie back in the garage - wasn’t stock either… remember?

I was staring intently at the lights as was Kelly. Funny, but at that moment, all went silent… I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t notice anything… I was only waiting for the third amber to light.

And it did. And that’s when my hearing returned…

In a small fraction of a second, my brain sent a signal to my finger and the surly bonds of mechanical restriction were loosed as I heard the soft *CLICK* of the switch being activated.

BAM!!! The Transbrake loosened its hold and the monster V6 screamed violently upward in rpm. The Buick absolutely leaped off the line, pulling like a freight train, hard and fast… the nose lifted just a bit but the suspension did its job and the car was planted like a 100 year oak.

To our left, Molly had also dumped the twin disc clutch perfectly, the huge 345’s biting like a pit bull - Kelly later told me that she was certain the car nearly pulled the front tires off the pavement. She wasn’t sure only because the launch of the GN shoved her violently back into the seat and she couldn’t see the Shelby anymore!

Just like that, both cars were off like two hell hounds in the night.

BAM! The 1-2 shift hit violently, only a nano-second after I heard Molly grab second in a full power shift.

“Damn! That girl can DRIVE! And man, can she shift!” I heard Kelly yell… my mind barely had time to mentally agree. Yes. She definitely can.

By now we were nearly mid track and the 2-3 shift was imminent. I saw a solid 28 psi on the boost gauge a second time just as we slammed into 3rd, Molly’s black stallion bellowing in the night air with her shifts perfectly executed. I swear, it sounded like she was driving a built automatic – she was that good.

Does time seem to slow for you when you’re racing? Do you feel things shift to slow motion? They do for me, especially in a tight race… even if Kelly is with me and talking, it’s like listening to a 45 RPM record being played at 33 1/3, the voice sounds s-l-o-w. And, d-e-e-p…

The lights race by but it’s kind of a blur… everything under the hood and in my opponent’s lane seems to slow down.

We’re nearly at the 1100 foot mark and it’s still too close to call. BAM! We’re into 3rd and the boost gauge barely moves. I think to myself “Thank God I’ve got a drive shaft loop”… I’ll get odd thoughts like that sometimes…

I know Molly is now in 4th. We’re well over a hundred mph already. Kelly’s hand is on my arm, squeezing tightly as she leans forward in an attempt to see where the Ford is….

“Steve?” I hear her slowly/deeply say… ‘You aren’t going to believe this…” as we cross the finish…

I back out of the pedal, the blow off valve hissing like a demon…

“What did you say, Kel?” I had no idea who won. I just knew it was close. Damn close.

“I don’t think we beat her Steve. I think we lost…”

To be continued…

[k otik]

47

The exhaust cackled a bit as we slowed, the turn-off was about an 1/8th mile past the ‘finish’ line. That was when I noticed that the runway/drag strip was at least a half mile long. It was hard to tell exactly in the dark but apparently the twins’ daddy is flying more than just prop driven aircraft from this field. Molly had pulled in right behind me before we got to the turn off and was now following us back to front end.

I wasn’t sure where we would get the times and neither of us saw what the boards were displaying as we flew by them but it sure seemed like Kelly was pretty sure we came up short.

As we drove back to the front, Molly pulled alongside, rolled her window down and was giving us a huge smile and thumbs up. I wasn’t sure what that meant but then she waved a ‘follow me’ sort of gesture so we fell in behind them.

When we got back to the front where the control panel was, Molly stopped the Snake so we pulled along side and let the GN idle to cool down. I knew it was a solid run, probably a low 9 but it was hard to be sure. We launched hard and it felt like we had a solid 60-footer but I needed a time slip to get the data. The Scanmaster showed low KRs and solid O2s so I knew the tune was safe. I just wanted a slip…

We sat there and watched the girls get out of the big serpent (did I mention how jaw dropping Molly’s driving/shifting was? DAMN!) and walk up to the control panel. After she pressed a few keys on the panel, I saw some paper being disbursed – wow, these guys have it all!

Holly took the paper from the machine and looked over it with Molly as they slowly walked back to the cars. By this time, Kel and I were out of the GN, waiting to see what it was that they had in hand.

“Steve, this is amazing. Look…” She handed us the slips – The monster Super Snake ran a 9.296. The GN – ran a 9.288!

That was a difference of only .008 of a second. But the most amazing part to me wasn’t that the GN hung with the big Shelby – it was that Molly drove an uber-high HP manual transmission car to within .008 of the auto-equipped GN!

“Molly – I’ve got to tell you; your driving/shifting is incredible. Where did you learn to drive like that?” I was dead serious – I’ve never seen a better driver than Molly, no one. And I’ve seen and driven against the best in the business.

Both girls glanced at each other, their dark hair getting tossed by the gentle breeze, and then grinned.

“Shoot, Steve. Our daddy had us driving stick cars before we got our licenses. And Holly here is actually even better than I am – I probably should have let HER drive! We might have beat y’all! Hahaha!!”

“So, how old are you girls?” asked Kelly.

“Well, we’ll be 20 in a couple of months. Don’t that sound so old?” laughed Molly. They both giggled like 7th graders at that one. And man, did Kelly and I feel old when she said it! Oh, to be 20 years old again – and to be able to drive like THAT. Wow.

“Listen guys, I don’t know if you’ve heard about a little soiree we’ve got coming up this weekend? We’ve got a drag race coming up that ESPN and SPEED are covering and it is centered around factory freaks but we’re also going to – “

They both were laughing. “Oh, we know about it guys! We’re already entered!”

“You are? Great! Are you bringing the Shelby and your Z06 or GT-R?” I asked.

Holly glanced at Molly, a nervous smile on her face. “Should we show them?”

Molly thought for a moment, smiling at Kelly and me. “Why not? They’ll see our cars this weekend anyways. Steve? Kelly? Follow us, we have a couple of cars we’re sure you will find interesting…”

They got back in the Shelby and that was when I noticed for the first time the small sticker in the rear window. ‘KONG’.

As Kelly and I shut the doors of the GN, I asked her, “Did you see that KONG sticker in the Mustang’s rear window?”

“Oh Steve, I saw that back on Reynolds – I thought that was why you wanted to race them!” We both laughed at that one. I told you – Kelly has an eye for detail that never ceases to amaze me…

We drove back towards the war birds - noticing that there was a third one a ways back behind the Corsair but not sure what it was - and turned off onto another section of drive towards a dark two story building that had garage doors across the front – 8 of them. We hadn’t noticed this on the way in because it was off to the side.

As the Shelby turned towards the building, one of the garage doors came up and bright white light spilled out into the night and onto the pavement just outside the door. Also, several area flood lights came on, illuminating the front of the building and apron. Honestly, it was almost blinding.

The Shelby pulled on into the wide door – it had to be at least 10’ wide – and we pulled up and stopped just outside, shut down the GN and got out to walk in. Already, we could see what looked to be a garage that would rival any of the best new car dealers in the world, with several lifts and more tool chests than I had ever seen.

But that wasn’t the best part. The cars…

“Over there, that gray Vette? That’s Holly’s car.” Up on a rack was a Cyber Gray Z06.

“ Yeah, that one’s getting a Twin Turbo setup installed. And, that red Nissan over there is my GT-R, I love that car!” chimed in Holly as she pointed to the squatty Godzilla sitting silent and sinister two bays over.

I looked around and saw that the building had to be at least 40’ deep, maybe more. There were multiple walk through doors and stair ways with at least two different sets of elevators visible from where we were standing.

“See that car over there Steve? That one’s mine too” smiled Molly. I glanced in the direction she was pointing and noticed the small boxy look of a MOPAR with an unusual paint scheme. It was white in color but the front clip was flat black and the hood scoop was enormous. It had to be only one thing…

“Is that an honest to God Hemi Dart, Molly?”

“It sure is!” she beamed with pride. My daddy got that for me when I graduated school. We went out to Vegas to visit Uncle Carol and his new wife a couple of years ago and found this car at the Russo & Steel auction house. He surprised me with it! It is a handful to drive and it’s really not street legal but I still take it out once in a while just to have some fun.”

I walked over and peered in the Lexan windows. A Spartan interior was evident, the four speed shifter prominently visible next to the driver’s seat. Walking around front, I peered into the hood scoop and could see the tops of two mammoth 4-barrel carburetors, knowing they were sitting on top of probably the world’s most famous motor – the 426 ci Hemi.

“Wow Molly, Holly. You guys have some place here and the cars are awesome. This is really nice. Is this what you’re bringing Sunday?”

“Nope, neither one. Follow us through that walk through door over yonder and you’ll see what we’re bringing… I doubt you’ve ever heard of these two cars, much less seen them but you never know…”

We made our way to the far side of the service bay and Holly flipped two switches just outside a solid steel door. With a small ‘hiss’ a panel opened up with an illuminated key pad on which Holly tapped a series of numbers/letters which was immediately followed by a very loud click and some whirring noises behind (inside?) the massive dark gray door.

“Daddy got this door from a bank that went out of business. It’s probably over kill but we keep our really good stuff in here and not many people have ever seen the inside of this room.”

With a louder, deeper hum, the massive steel door swung open, with more light flooding – and hurting – our eyes as we tried to adjust. This service bay was a fraction in size of the one we just walked through but it was set up every bit as thorough, including four lifts and all the tools, air hose connections, exhaust ports – and a DYNO – that one could ever imagine. And not Harbor Freight stuff either – this was all high dollar pro-grade.

“Over there, those are what we’re bringing Sunday.” Molly pointed to two cars parked near the overhead doors with covers on them. With the black covers on, it was impossible to tell what they were.

Kelly leaned against me ‘Is that closest one a late-60’s car? The other one looks like it might be some sort of sports car, some sort of two seater?”

“I don’t know Kel but I think we’re about to find out.”

Molly walked to the nearest car, Holly to the far one. Both girls grabbed the rear part of the covers and grinned, knowing they were teasing us with delaying the reveal.

“Any ideas guys?” asked Molly, gently tugging the fabric...

“Not really – c’mon, you’re killing us here! What are they?”

“Ok, here ya go…” and with that, the covers were yanked off. To say we were stunned is the understatement of the year.

“Damn Kel, do you believe that? Is that what I think it is?”

“I have no idea what you’re thinking it is Steve but I’m guessing it has to be – I’ve never seen one of them before. And - look at that one that Holly is standing near – do you believe it?”

The HVAC kicked on and the sound of air moving was the only noise in the shop, well, other than the hum from the lights, well, and our pounding hearts.

Because we were staring at two cars that weren’t supposed to even exist.

But, like Frankie, somehow – if our eyes weren’t playing tricks – someone, saved them. And we were less than 20 feet away from both of them.

One was a GM, the other a Pontiac. The GM was the developmental mule for the C3 Corvette – it was the MAKO SHARK body that was seen as a concept car at car shows decades ago. But – this one was a coupe and it didn’t have the split window the ’63 eventually was built with.

“You’re right – I’ve never seen a coupe Mako concept car before…”

GM had publicly said the engine was anything from a base 327 to a massaged 409 but insiders said it was something far better – it was actually a Paxton blown, bored and stroked aluminum big-block 427/ZL1 forerunner mated to an experimental 3 speed Turbo-hydramatic that never made production.

The Vette/Shark was mesmerizing. It was painted a very deep blue fading to a lighter gray at the bottom side of the car. It had chrome side-piped exhaust; the lines of what would become the ’63 Stingray very evident but more aggressive, more pronounced.

We forgot about the second car for a moment and walked over to look at the Mako up close. By the time we got there, Molly had the hood up, revealing a motor that had a very wide set of orange valve covers and plumbing everywhere, the largest pieces of which went to/from the Paxton blower at the front of the motor.

I ran my hands over the lines of the car, mulling over the historical value this machine represented.

“How in the world did you guys get a hold of this car, Molly?”

“Daddy bought (she held up both hands and did the gesture implying quotation marks with the word ‘bought’) it years ago. He used to be a big GM exec and worked closely with Mr. Mitchell back in the day. When the order came down to destroy this mule, Daddy got it out the back door somehow and it’s been with him ever since. It couldn’t be titled because there was never an MSO for it but Daddy didn’t care, it’s one of one. Amazingly, Mr. Mitchell never told anyone, even though daddy said he used to stop by our old house a couple of times a year just to look at and sit in this car. One time, Daddy said he even brought Mr. Shinoda with him. I guess it meant a lot to both of them...”

“Check this one out y’all” said Holly as she swung her arm over towards the other car. I bet you’ve never seen one of these before either, have you?”

I followed Kelly around the Mako and over near the Pontiac. At first glance, it looked like a late ‘60’s GTO but it also had a look similar to a ‘69 Firebird having quad headlights. But, it was too big to be a Firebrid mule, it had to be something used for GTO development.

“What the heck is that Holly?” asked Kelly. I knew Kelly would be interested – she has always had a sweet spot for the GTOs.

“Well, Kelly, it’s actually the car used to develop the ’70 Judge but it’s based on the ‘68/’69 body style. I’m not sure how they made this up this way but it’s really weird to look at, isn’t it?”

We both nodded but still admired the lines.

“So what’s under this one’s hood?” I asked.

“Oh, just a little 455 with a few tweaks using their Ram Air IV technology. And, two big Holley 4 barrels. Check this out…”

She lifted the hood and we peered into the cavernous engine bay, noting the rubber seal above the air cleaner that mated to a section of the hood for cold air intake.

“This hood never made production but if you look closely, it’s similar to what’s on the ’70 GTO but this one has scoops like the ‘69’s had but wider. I actually like it better than either hood they used.”

“What’s the transmission?” I asked. “It’s actually a Muncie Rock Crusher but with specially hardened internals. The clutch is actually a power assisted model that never made production but it helps some. It’s really pretty easy to clutch and shift, given the technology back then.” Explained Holly.

“Any idea what these are rated, power wise?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve had them on the dyno but for now, let’s just say they were really under rated. The most amazing number isn’t the horsepower though – both of these engines make enough torque to pull a train!”

Just then, we heard a noise behind us, a slight cough and some approaching foot steps. With our backs to the door and facing the girls, we saw their faces light up with huge smiles before we turned to look.

“Daddy, you’re still up! Look who we met tonight!”

Kelly and I turned to meet the girls’ father, wondering just who this guy could be. But, when we saw his face, to say we were shocked would be an understatement.

He looked a little older, the hair a little more gray, the eyes a little darker set since we had last seen him. But there was no mistaking who he was, especially when he spoke...

"Hi Steve, good evening, Kelly... It's been a while, hasn't it?"

To be continued…

[honduh_head]

haha oh man this story keeps getting better. i'm glad i finally got caught up

[failedabortion]

^dick I thought there was an update with the thread bump :-(

[honduh_head]

sorrryyyyyy

[k otik]

^dick I thought there was an update with the thread bump :-(


Same here and after I saw no update I started looking on TurboBuick.com to see if there was one we didn't know about but the user Raven hasn't posted anything since late January.:frown:

[failedabortion]

Anyone signed up on turbobuick? To lazy to sign up and ask him if there are any updates...
http://www.turbobuick.com/forums/members/raven.314/

[Rufus]

It's still a TL;DR for me

[[C3R] Corey]

Man oh man I forgot about this. I need to re-read them and catch back up.

[bseries1320]

It's still a TL;DR for me

Freal doe

[hatchkid91]

good story wish there was an updated on it

[crxhfb16]

whys is this not sticky;d?

[apSquidFace]

I dont care if the story is good... this thread is rediculous. It took me like 5 minutes just to scroll through the first page.

[MIRANDA88]

Why isn't this a book? Is there a download link or something.

[[C3R] Corey]

Is this completely updated? lol

[JDM-Juice]

What's going on with this, I read it seriously like 3 year's ago. It should be a book by now

[honduh_head]

I dont care if the story is good... this thread is rediculous. It took me like 5 minutes just to scroll through the first page.

you're supposed to read it, not scroll through it. :smackself:

[honduh_head]

I messaged Raven to see if he did anymore. We'll see what he says!

[CodeJDM]

God damn. lol I will be completely honest with you, I started reading this shit at 9:30ish am. lol My work day is officially over and I haven't even finished this. I love it though, it honestly killed time lol

[[C3R] Corey]

I messaged Raven to see if he did anymore. We'll see what he says!

Nice brad hopefully he has more this story is pretty epic. He needs to see about getting these published.

[failedabortion]

Still waiting since he resurfaced on tb and said hes working on finishing it this year:idiot::idiot: