I thought this would be a good place for everyone to tell their favorite street race story. Mine is as follows.
A long, long time ago, in a land far away, when I still had hair, I proudly owned my very own 70 Cuda'. I spent all winter saving my money, working over a 440 , complete with hemi-grind purpleshaft, CH4B Intake, 850 Dbl Pumper, Headers, 3500 Stall, 727 with a Cheetah reverse manual valve body and a set of 4.56s. This car was rough, it was rusty, and had the LOUDEST set of old burnt out glass packs you ever heard, and it would haul *** . A set of hard N-50 15 Remingtons did their best to keep from smoking, but to no avail. Springtime was near, and I was itching to go race. As I drove one weekend, I noticed the ol 440 seemed to be running out of poop, and then BLAM!!!!! My engine had expired! Crap! The single bolt cam bolt had stretched and broken, allowing a valve to kiss a piston, causing the piston to shatter into many, tiny pieces. My fine engine was scrap. My cousin helped me tow it to his house, and there it sat for a month.
It was mid July when we were partying at my cuzz's house when it happened, Javelin Jay, the local AMC freak had his 390 AMX going, and was making fun of my ol Cuda. I really wished my 440 hadn't crapped out, because I knew I could take ol Javelin Jay, he had no hood, a crossram and a four speed, and a fancy paint job. We had to do something. We did.
We bought the neighbors 66 Coronet for 25 bucks, it had a polysphere 318, my cousin and I split the price, 12.50 each. This car was crap, but it did run, and it had good sheetmetal. We drove it to Gore's Junkyard and asked if he had any good bigblock Mopars he would trade the whole car for, he said he would trade it for the 383 in an old station wagon out back. This was no ordinary wagon, this was a 1970 Dodge sport wagon, complete with hood bulges, and a 383 Mag. We pulled the engine in 20 minutes, and hauled her off to the old tree we pulled engines with. We started changing it out at Noon, and had it ready to start at 9:00 PM. My cousin Steven manned the starter, and cranked away, it wouldn't fire, we kept trying, finally the old motor cranked up, and smoked like hell. Steven wound it up so tight, it floated the valves. We were in business.
How did it run? like a striped-assed ape, it wasn't as brutally powerful as the 440, but she was quicker, because it would hook, and the 440 wouldn't.
It was time for a showdown, time to find Javelin Jay. We cruised into Lincoln Center on a Saturday Night, there he was , with a crowd of people around him, everyone admiring the fancy paint his mommy had paid for. We rolled the Cuda past them, and he yelled to take that piece of crap home, that's when I lit them up, and rolled through Lincoln center sideways, with the hides boiling. Rust flew from my crapped out exhaust onto the crowd. Javelin Jay was incensed with anger, and he bragged that he was going to blow my doors off. The race was on!
We rolled out quietly outside of town on Tellman Rd. Jay does a big burn out, and it looks impressive, my Cuda drips oil from the leaky valve covers onto the headers and stinks to high heaven. Jeff, my other cousin, flags the race, Jay revs his motor, he dumps the clutch, and I just mash it to the floor, we jump him 2 cars immediately, and begin to pull away, when I go to shift to second, I miss second gear! The slapstick wasn't meant to be shifted backwards, and it's easy to miss a gear, we go directly into drive, and Jay pulls even, it's a dead heat. We were ahead slightly, but Jay argues about where the end of the quarter was, so we go again, this time, the old 383 twists clean to 6200 RPM, I shift to second, and the tires scream as I'm sucked back into my ratty highback bucket seat, exhaust fills the ****pit, we're flying now--not sure how fast, the gear change screwed up the speedo, it shows 130 or something, and I haven't even shifted to drive, we go into drive, and Old Javelin Jay is a small object in my rear view mirror. Yessssss, dusted by a 25.00 engine. The 383 lasted 2 more weeks before we blew it up, but what fun.
A long, long time ago, in a land far away, when I still had hair, I proudly owned my very own 70 Cuda'. I spent all winter saving my money, working over a 440 , complete with hemi-grind purpleshaft, CH4B Intake, 850 Dbl Pumper, Headers, 3500 Stall, 727 with a Cheetah reverse manual valve body and a set of 4.56s. This car was rough, it was rusty, and had the LOUDEST set of old burnt out glass packs you ever heard, and it would haul *** . A set of hard N-50 15 Remingtons did their best to keep from smoking, but to no avail. Springtime was near, and I was itching to go race. As I drove one weekend, I noticed the ol 440 seemed to be running out of poop, and then BLAM!!!!! My engine had expired! Crap! The single bolt cam bolt had stretched and broken, allowing a valve to kiss a piston, causing the piston to shatter into many, tiny pieces. My fine engine was scrap. My cousin helped me tow it to his house, and there it sat for a month.
It was mid July when we were partying at my cuzz's house when it happened, Javelin Jay, the local AMC freak had his 390 AMX going, and was making fun of my ol Cuda. I really wished my 440 hadn't crapped out, because I knew I could take ol Javelin Jay, he had no hood, a crossram and a four speed, and a fancy paint job. We had to do something. We did.
We bought the neighbors 66 Coronet for 25 bucks, it had a polysphere 318, my cousin and I split the price, 12.50 each. This car was crap, but it did run, and it had good sheetmetal. We drove it to Gore's Junkyard and asked if he had any good bigblock Mopars he would trade the whole car for, he said he would trade it for the 383 in an old station wagon out back. This was no ordinary wagon, this was a 1970 Dodge sport wagon, complete with hood bulges, and a 383 Mag. We pulled the engine in 20 minutes, and hauled her off to the old tree we pulled engines with. We started changing it out at Noon, and had it ready to start at 9:00 PM. My cousin Steven manned the starter, and cranked away, it wouldn't fire, we kept trying, finally the old motor cranked up, and smoked like hell. Steven wound it up so tight, it floated the valves. We were in business.
How did it run? like a striped-assed ape, it wasn't as brutally powerful as the 440, but she was quicker, because it would hook, and the 440 wouldn't.
It was time for a showdown, time to find Javelin Jay. We cruised into Lincoln Center on a Saturday Night, there he was , with a crowd of people around him, everyone admiring the fancy paint his mommy had paid for. We rolled the Cuda past them, and he yelled to take that piece of crap home, that's when I lit them up, and rolled through Lincoln center sideways, with the hides boiling. Rust flew from my crapped out exhaust onto the crowd. Javelin Jay was incensed with anger, and he bragged that he was going to blow my doors off. The race was on!
We rolled out quietly outside of town on Tellman Rd. Jay does a big burn out, and it looks impressive, my Cuda drips oil from the leaky valve covers onto the headers and stinks to high heaven. Jeff, my other cousin, flags the race, Jay revs his motor, he dumps the clutch, and I just mash it to the floor, we jump him 2 cars immediately, and begin to pull away, when I go to shift to second, I miss second gear! The slapstick wasn't meant to be shifted backwards, and it's easy to miss a gear, we go directly into drive, and Jay pulls even, it's a dead heat. We were ahead slightly, but Jay argues about where the end of the quarter was, so we go again, this time, the old 383 twists clean to 6200 RPM, I shift to second, and the tires scream as I'm sucked back into my ratty highback bucket seat, exhaust fills the ****pit, we're flying now--not sure how fast, the gear change screwed up the speedo, it shows 130 or something, and I haven't even shifted to drive, we go into drive, and Old Javelin Jay is a small object in my rear view mirror. Yessssss, dusted by a 25.00 engine. The 383 lasted 2 more weeks before we blew it up, but what fun.