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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Okay, so I've only ever been "with" a 'vette on the road running tall on one occasion previously, and nothing serious at that… just winding them up a bit, not "all out". Yellow C5 with a few goodies it would appear, but I'd suspect even if STOCK he was a pretty stout ride all-the-same. MY car was MUCH less machine than it is NOW… still on the hybrid CT and bolt-ons with the HKS soup I STILL fiddle with. Anyway, we rolled to near my max with the 4.11:1 gears and then he just began to walk off in the mid-to-upper triple digits! Wow!
Anyway... a little further up the highway, he slowed a bit and we came alongside and a nod and then I split off as my exit came up. Road was EMPTY on our side on a desolate interstate on a perfect afternoon. No harm done, and an appreciation for where I stood. Certainly NOT a "big gun"… ...YET!

FADE FORWARD to SATURDAY NITE one cool evening last fall… (Orange car this time... me with a bigger spool!)

So, I had been PLAYING with an LS1 Firehawk and fresh off both a NEW appreciation for the platform, and also a STRONG THROBBING residual RUSH from my newfound thrill of my OWN "respectable" place in the pecking order of my small region of provincial experience... now wheeling a 67mm trim at that! I'm particularly content just CRUISING off of non-boosted torque down low... a deep, deceptive mumble from the conservatively toned HKS Super Drager vent running my belly like a nonchalant serpent on a meandering lurker-hunt along the evening streets in the dim dusk-to-moonlight transition of the falling night sky….
…in the spirit of Phil Collins… there was SOMETHING in the AIR TONIGHT!

Cool, crisp, night air funnels up into the cusp of my Briggs and Stratton push-mower deflector derived CAI (Crisp Air Intake) box-channel under-lip scoop up into the mushroom funnel slurp of astro-turf green flame laminated protection on my HKS stack where it is honked down in a steady draw like an inmate sucking down his last cigarette before CELL-BLOCK role call through the velocity-stacked inlet feeding my sevenem furnace with the life inseminating chemistry of our atmosphere's O2 just before it meets it's combustion destiny in a toroidal torture vortex the likes of all God's creation being inhaled by Puff the Magic Dragon on the SUCK-UP just before condensing into a compressed combination of stoichiometric mix that metamorphasizes into a microcosm of the proverbial "big bang" theory’s expansion principle forcing a Newtonian pay-back of iterative regeneration force that escalates under the watchful eye of an over-engineered relief port that shares the horses with the waste in an aftermath off the divorced downpipe that can only be compared to my vehicular version of an Al Goreian household magnitude of carbon footprint emission that no EPA respecting plebe should be able to rationalize… as I pilot my sleeper crispclowncar down the strip only miles from home... and a nice, cold beer…

...alas... just TRY to take my forward propulsion rolling fuel conversion pump away from me on the grounds of clean atmosphere, environmental vicissitude recovered and good health for all upstanding tree-huggers of the world! Just color me OUTLAW for a minute… while I relish in my self-edifying auto-indulgence for a LITTLE while… I promise to recycle an extra aluminum can or two and separate my plastics from the rest of the trash… NEXT time I put the garbage out. 7 M-kay?


Back to the ORANGE ‘vette. It was dark as I rolled toward home... Teddy Roosevelt's mantra "speak softly and carry a big stick" ringing in my ears... the voice of reason and moderation awarded the self-aware who needn't bother blowing their own narcissistic horn... and I see this metallic orange late model ‘vette through my peripheral vision to my left through the four lane intersection I was crossing, just before realizing he was turning left INTO my direction of travel, and we had little obstruction in the immediate dual-lane we had available up ahead! I believe there was a LARGE Corvette flag in black on the hood, but it was too dim and at some distance going past that I only got a glance, so I'm not even sure of the year, but it was C5 or C6 at any rate. So sure enough, he comes in around behind me wide, as I am in the inside lane Eastbound and he starts rolling up with his arachnid-hid-eyes rising slightly under the grunt of a throttle-jab-squirt to come up even... just as I am down to a near stop roll at the next AND LAST light heading out under an overhead interstate where the exchange puts us on a rural route that runs double both ways for about a mile and a half before narrowing to two-lane traffic in the distance! At first I am pensive as to whether he is actually going to goose the motor at all… but I'm already down in first and can tell now that he's not planning to stop but STAGE for the light as it flickers denoting an imminent change from RED to “GO!” and we get EVEN UP at a snail-paced roll as we come off of our binders and let the cars come under INSTANT THROTTLE-MASH in the SHORTEST MOMENT of my driving anticipation experience! Like an ARM DROP from RICH on PINKS, we BOTH had SMACKED THE FLOOR with the "A-PEDAL" as his big eight ERUPTS into a header-thick-automotive-muscle-JUNGLE-ROAR while I WHACK the limiter and RAMMM MY BOX-O-ROCKS "R-1-5-4" into a synchro-stressing-second without lifting on the gas! Tires SCREECHING as they SCRAWL for traction and haunches COMPRESS while my hood-nose rises up even with the horizon and I'm jacking third off the limiter when my synchros growl again for an instant and the gear flanks mesh and the rear suspension loads a good ninety-nine percent of my weight onto my LIPP SuperSport Stainless traction heels… enough to grab solid pavement and thrust me into an ensuing power slide-snap-lunge-fish-tail-to-straight slingshot rush that puts me a nose out over the Kentucky Bluegrass made muscle and we are BOTH whole-honk-hell-bent with the focus of a child wielding an oversize magnifying glass terminating ants on the sidewalk under the sun's unrelenting solar-emission wrath harnessed in a crucifixion moment of earth shattering-life blinding assault!

...then I grab a fast fourth...

Since I've managed to SLAP the limiter again with third and BOUNCE it right into fourth with the deft precision of a surgeon stitching a nip-n-tuck facial on a Hollywood Heroine’s likeness, I'm wholly onto the full spool with the slight slip on the Dual Friction Centerforce, enough to rocket the gear-snap with a precision I've rarely entertained nor needed (honest, I don't race much...) but the effect was a handy psyche full of afterthought that surely still haunts the driver of that fine piece of machinery from the "General's" fateful flagship that night. It was VERY short-lived, however, as quickly as we made it the contest it had become, a turn-in vehicle ahead from the South into his outer lane forced him to lift almost as soon as I was in the sweet spot of fourth, one gear short of velocity bliss as I know we both would have savored... and he let up just enough to pop over behind me, then reverted to a coast… off of our prior pace, I too let the car have it's fifth and a free-roll off to a less frantic pace and a good jouncing roll to the firm attention of the TEMS with the HKS/KYB kit as my chest finally responded to mother nature again and I involuntarily grabbed another breath to keep me from going into a coma for lack of OXYGEN since launching off the light. Cruising away as the 'vette made his turn-off shortly after we were back down to two-lane up the way... I flickered my brake lights from ahead in respect and adieu until we could have the fine pleasure of mixing it up again sometime, somewhere... perhaps if only in a parking lot at Wal-Mart, a banter date that would surely warrant some lively exchange and perhaps a better coordinated run again just for the heck of it!

If any of you were riding shotgun, I'm sure you'd have posted the account about the same.

...shortly after... I rolled into my country drive and stepped in the door, cracked open that beer... and sat back to savor the spoils of Supra-sensations sublime until the adrenaline tapered off into the night... and I was mortal once again in the arms of my good friend... Sandman.

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