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OK, this actually happened awhile ago but, I'm just getting around to posting it now ...
I had just spent the day washing and waxing the '56 Belair and she was looking great and ready to go out and play. So, when the evening came around my wife and I decided to go out for some dinner, I decided, well convinced my wife that we should take the Chevy.
She really doesn't like the car because it makes too much noise, it shakes and vibrates at stop lights and everybody looks and gawks at it all of the time.
We were minding our own business cruising down the street and came up to the first of a series of stoplights leading towards the edge of town and the restaraunt we were planning to go to. While stopped at the light a mid-90's Mustang pulls up next to us at the light. He starts looking over, revving his engine .... etc. a couple of power brake tire spins .... acting like the punk kid he was ...
My wife says "why is he acting like an ASS" So, I explained that he wants to race.
The the light turns green ... I ease into the throttle very easily and the stall converter slips away from the line nice and slow ... meanwhile in the 5.0slo stang he's throttle hopping tire spinning trying to get me to take the bait.
I cruise 25mph to the next light. I look over at my wife ans tell her "We're not going to race we are just cruising to dinner" She seems a little calmer after I tell her that.
We arrive at the next light only to find it is red and punkboy is there revving his flowmaster exhausted 5.0 again. So, my wife, being the good sport she is, turns up the radio and we ignore slostang again when the light turns green.
The street is a series of stoplights fro about 2 miles so wouldn't you know it but, there he is again trying to get me to race him.
At this point you should know a little more detail of the situation. He has 2 of his buddies with him a rather loud exhaust (sounds like flowmasters and an "H" pipe) on his pretty tame looking Mustang which he undoubtedly believes can set the land speed record of all time.
My Belair on the other hand, was built by myself with the help of some very knowledgable friends to be a drag car some 12-13 years ago. About 8 years ago I decided to make it a street rod. I detuned the engine to make it more streetable and basically left the drive train intact from it's beginnings it has been a torque monster producing a dyno proven 609rhwp with full exhaust and race gas. All of that power is fed through a 4000rpm stall converter into a custom built 350thd automatic tranny which leads to a 10 bolt chevy rearend sporting an Auburn carrier with a detroit locker gear set. Supporting the car is strictly race bread under pinnings. Competition engineering 4-link and the matching wheelie bars hanging out the rear between the dual 4" exhaust pipes. Also very visable in the back of the car is a fuel cell, battery cut-off, chute mount, and one of the largest fuel pumps I could find. This is noticably not an average street car.
After about 4 or 5 stoplight encounters with Mr. Mustang my wife says "at the next light why don't you just leave him"
When I arrive at the next light next to the soon to be embarrassed Mustang I reach over and hook up my wifes harness and then I latch mine in and I'm ready. My wife is looking really nervous by this time (she doesn't know what she has given the "OK" to). The light we are at is the last light before the road opens up to a nice, straight 4 lane for about 3/4 mile
I give my throaty 406 cubic inch gas guzzling beauty a tap of the throttle and she lets me know she is ready for some fun with a loud, window rattling, rumble. My friend in the Mustang next me notices that "I'm not going quietly into the night" but, waiting for him to put up or shut up. He revs his car up which for some reason doesn't sound nearly as impressive now. All I do is smile over at him and he points down the road I follow suit ....
Waiting for the green light to flip. I bring the engine up to 3500rpm with the line lock on, glance over and the kid is looking nervous because he can't even hear his own engine any longer.
The light changes and I drop the throttle, She hits 4000rpm almost instantly and the line lock releases and the converter locks up my wife and I are slammed into the seats so hard the only way I can describe it is "I now know what a Randy Johnson 98 mph fastball feels like when Mark Macguire hits it for a Grand Slam". The front tires slowly climb upward to the point where the road is no longer visable. Leaning hard on the wheelie bars I stay in the throttle using all of my strength to hold the pedal to the floor. The g-force starts to ease abit. I can now see the road again and I find myself with a white knuckle grip on the wheel while the tach is rapidly approaching the "either shift or blow up" point. 7200rpm arrives with much fanfare as the tranny hits second gear and the tires mark the occation with a gleeful screech for a split second and we're pinned to the seats again. The Barry Grant carb is feeding this monster and we are accerating at a rate equivelent to the decline of the Taliban regime. We reach 110mph and I look over to my lovely wife who is now whiter than my knuckles by this time and lift off of the throttle. I put the car into neutral and coast to the next light. When I stop for the light, even though it is not red, my who is trying to regain some color and her breathing asks "why did you stop for a green light?" I tell her I'm waiting for the other guy .... she says "well, he's still way back there but, he is on the way ... the light finally turns red.
When the Mustang pulls up to the light he and his friends are in awe at the raw power display they just saw but, his buddies are giving the driver a pretty hard time... My wife who is a very quiet and reserved small woman looks aver and says "You are a very annoying driver and your car is SLOW" The laughter coming from the other car was unbelievably loud that kid driving was about to cry I think. I would have loved to heard what happened at school on that following Monday on a side note my wife will not even sit in the Belair anymore ... oh well .. it's her loss
Luke Pavlick 
Items in the mirror appear ... TO BE LOSING
I want to die peacefully in my sleep ... just like Gramps
not screaming and terrified like the
people in his car at the time |
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