blue moon (2)

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Radar Love ©

Ok it was a tie, so I flipped a coin and today it’s the car post and tomorrow the bank heist.

I remember when I was a kid; ummmmm was I ever a kid?
Let’s pretend I was once.
My friends and I loved fast cars. The faster the better, we were Speed Demons.
I was sitting in the cafeteria at school. This was when I put the bullshit aside and I went back to get my High School diploma, I was 31.
There were a couple of guys talking about the car race they had the night before and were saying they hit 200 at one point. “I have never gone that fast before” one said.
I piped up and said I hit 200 a lot of times when I street raced.
You hit 200 kph?
Oh, I replied I’m sorry I made a mistake, I meant 200 mph and took out my calculator and came up with 335 kph.
They started laughing and told me there were never cars that went that fast.
I wanted to smack them, but I decided to mind my own business after that.

I drove a 72 Dodge Dart with a bored out 340, that cost me $2000 to build. The transmission was another $1000 and I had a ratchet shifter for quick shifts. I ran the quarter mile in an average of 14 seconds, never under grrrrrrrrrr.
Mike drove a 69 Chevy Chevelle, with a 327 under the hood fully loaded.
Steve had a 67 Chevy Camero, with a 427 Corvette engine that was also drilled out and was a blur on the street.
Nick drove a 68 Dodge Charger with a 440 magnum stock engine that looked as sweet as it sounded.
These were just some of the cars the guys had and they all could go over 200 miles per hour and hold it. No Japanese cars here, as you can see.
We would race every night on Carling Avenue, and the cops were all over us. It was mayhem after midnight on a Friday night. The high speed chases through out the city were amazing.
We used to race on the airport driveway for pink slips, when there was a serious challenge.
None the less I got caught enough for me to reconsider the street racing. It might have been the $1800 ticket I got once too.How do I stop racing with the car I had.The second I started her up, and the engine roared, my andrenaline shot straight through the roof. Selling it was not an option. There had to be something I could do and keep the car.
My mechanic suggested we change the gear in the rear axle. I used to have a 4:11 gear ratio in the axle, so I changed it to a 2:88. This meant I couldn’t take off fast at the starting line and racing was dead without the start.
But there is a reaction for every action as I soon found out.

It was summer and my God Father had asked me to come up to Pembroke to visit him.
I had a friend who was from there also and asked for a ride to see his parents, since I was heading there. I said it was ok and I picked him up that Saturday morning.
He was a big man, over 400 pounds and closer to 500. His wieght was important for this day.
We took off and hit the highway. The road to Pembroke is relatively a straight line with a few corners. I could see the needle hit 120 mph and disappear. This was normal driving for me on the highway. The pedal to the floor and the tunes were ROCKIN.
We did the 100 kilometers in about 25 minutes.
I thought at the time, that we got there rather fast. I figured the distance must have been shorter than I thought and the signs were wrong.
I dropped off buddy at his parents place and told him to have a nice holiday. He was staying for a week.
I pulled into my God Father’s restaurant and went in. After the hugging and cordial shit was out of the way, he ordered me steak and eggs and sat down to talk.
About 30 minutes later, the parking lot filled up with OPP cruisers and they were all around my car.
I was quickly going through my head trying to figure out if I had done anything in the last couple of days to warrant this attention. I couldn't think of a thing.
As far as the car was concerned, it was expendable at that moment, meaning that’s not my car if anyone asks.
A couple of cops came in and asked for the owner of the Dodge Dart, I said nothing.
My God Father got up and went to talk to them to find out what was up. He knew it was my car.
He kept looking back at me with wide eyes every now and then. After a bit they all shook hands and the cops were gone and my car was still there. Yayyyyyyyy
This is the story as I got it from my God Father. I had blown past a radar post and was clocked at 305 kph.The police took off after me but the cops couldn’t catch up. They had called ahead but I was going so fast they couldn't get ahead of me. Remember I don't even know this is happeneing. There were cruisers and motor cycles chasing me and couldn’t catch up. They had an airplane following me until I got to Pembroke. It wasn’t hard after that to find me since it’s a small town. I had no idea about the police behind me.
I would have stopped, honest I would have.
The police knew my God Father, many of them lived there and had dinner in his restaurant with their families.They talked for awhile and told them to come back and to bring their families over for dinner on him. They agreed to forget the ticket, but they told him to tell me to slow down when I left town.
When I changed the rear axle I didn’t realized that I would get more speed on the lower end, it just took longer to reach it and with all the weight in the car I didn’t even notice it.
My GodFather was freaking at the 305 kph and made me take him outside to show him the car and the engine. I even took him for a spin.
We had a great weekend.
This is how small this town was at that time. I went to a tavern at 2 pm at 6 pm it turned into a strip club at 10 pm it became a disco. I never left my seat and went to 3 different clubs.
Two days later and I was hugging my God Father and saying goodbye and was heading home.
He told me that he was going to call my mother and see what time I got home, so that he would know if I was racing home or taking my time. He said it should take me an hour to get home.
30 minutes after I left he phoned my mother and I answered.

On a sad note, I sold the car after it had been parked for 4 years to some no good little punk with no respect for a work of mechanical art. He changed back the axle and drove my baby into a bridge 2 days after it got out of the shop...........................BASTARD !!!!

I've been in 4 high speed chases 2 of which I didn't know I was being chased. I should learn to keep the music down and look at my rear view mirror more.

Tell me about your favorite car?


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