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Hot Rods Street Racing Story time~ the good,the bad and the ugly.

Discussion in 'The Hokey Ass Message Board' started by HOTRODPRIMER, Jul 30, 2016.

  1. I'm sure most of you have at one time or another played red light to red light who's got the quickest car or decided in a drive-in parking lot to met up on a deserted stretch of road on the out skirts of town to settle it once and for all who is the king of the hill.

    Back in the 60's I owned a pretty quick 63 1/2 Falcon Sprint and I was quilty of trying to out run all comers,I won some that I shouldn't have (the good) and lost some I should have (the bad).

    The one that hurt the most (the ugly) was the night I was on my way to a play a gig and had my big bass amp & speaker cabinet filling up the entire back seat of the Falcon.

    As I was sitting at the red light and a SC/Rambler-Hurst coupe rumbled up beside me and revved his engine,in my time that was reason enough to side step the clutch.

    The light changed and I dropped the hammer,I blew his doors off,at least for a moment I thought I did,then I noticed the faint red reflection on the white headliner just above the speaker cabinet and realized the red glow was being emitted from the bubble gum machine on the Police car that was directly behind me and the guy that I thought I was racing never budged when the light changed.

    I did learn a valuable & expensive lesson that night - Never,ever try to race someone if you can't see out your rear-view mirror,I didn't mention (stupid) in the title but we crossed that bridge also. HRP
     
    Last edited: Dec 1, 2016
  2. LM14
    Joined: Dec 18, 2009
    Posts: 1,934

    LM14
    Member
    from Iowa

    It's just as well, no Falcon Sprint was going to beat an S/C Rambler anyway..............
     
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  3. Mr48chev
    Joined: Dec 28, 2007
    Posts: 27,544

    Mr48chev
    ALLIANCE MEMBER

    LOL, Reminds me of back in 1966 when we would cruise the loop in Renton Washington and the street past the high school was six lanes wide and one way. More than once we would pull up beside one of our buddies and over a couple of lanes away would be an out of town car looking to show the locals what he had. We would go so far as to have one guy jump out and make sure the cars were lined up and then when the light turned the car a couple of lanes over would usually take off like a bat out of hell to blow our doors off as we putt putted down the street and past the cop who had been sitting in the high school parking lot driveway.

    In the mid 70's we had organized street races on a road outside of McGregor Tx and one night I was on the line faced off with another guy when the town constable came flying out and told us to get the hell out of there because the state patrol and sheriffs deputies were coming. We scattered in ten directions and that was pretty much the end of racing there. The constable was an older gent who was usually pretty good to several of us because he knew we had his back if he needed it.
     
  4. Mike VV
    Joined: Sep 28, 2010
    Posts: 2,066

    Mike VV
    Member
    from SoCal

    Good...and a bit funny -

    MANY years back, my Mom had a 72 Monte Carlo. I did the mechanical work and my brother did the body and interior for a nice looking beast.
    She complained for a long time that the 350 didn't have the power she wanted.
    So...when the 350 finally got too sick to do anything with, we pieced a 454 together with Edelbrock cam and manifold. A Turbo 400 trans. , and a posi unit was also installed in the original 10 bolt rear end. I've been doing head work for some time, so I have a bit of a clue what to do for a little better port flow of the round port heads. Dual exhaust, the works. My brother said that, "that was too much for mom"..!

    Anyway, a year or so later, my brother called to tell me he had seen Mom...street racing, during the daylight..!
    He was sitting across a four lane street, when he saw Mom take off hard with a mid 70's Fire Bird lagging slightly behind..! They got past the opposite corner and he lost visual sight of them.

    I called my Mom and asked her if she had anything to tell me...she said "not that she could think of"..! I asked about her and a Fire Bird at the given intersection...silence... Just like the little kid stealing cookies form the kitchen cupboard...a blank stare.
    She then proceeded to tell me the whole story of the guy in the Fire Bird egging her on, she "thought" she could beat him after messing with each other at two previous intersections...and she did..!

    Mike
     

  5. Got clocked by the police doing 125 mph in my OT 69 nova, blown 327. I was racing a 69 vette, and won. Then the fun was over! Big fine, loss of license for a while.:( I was 17 years old, so no jail that night.
     
  6. We will never know but that bird of prey did devour a GTO a few weeks later. :D HRP
     
    Last edited: Jul 30, 2016
  7. jnaki
    Joined: Jan 1, 2015
    Posts: 4,901

    jnaki

    Hello,
    I posted this classic place in Orange County inside the So Cal History thread, but here are some added facts. This road was part of the Seal Beach Ammunition Depot back in 1944 for the war effort. The whole development was made to look like a residential area from the sky. But, it was a storage facility of all forms of ammunition for loading and unloading on ships that docked near the ocean.

    Later, it expanded its military involvement in US history. But, the highlight for those Orange County locals was the creation of the very long 1.5 mile flat stretch of road for night time activities. Plus, on both sides was the deserted ammunition bunkers and empty roads. No one to disturb and call the police. It was a place perfect for this activity. The usable stretch was marked off at least .5 mile in from the busy street, Bolsa Chica/Valley View Street to the east and almost the same amount from busy Seal Beach Blvd on the west.

    The cool thing was it is so developed on either end now, but back then, it was just a bunch of fields. The middle, well, i am sure everyone can use this place to make a speed run or two safely. In our times, 58-64, it was the place for a lot of midnight activity. We never saw flashing lights. But, if they ever came from both ends, we would all be in the Orange County Jail waiting for the bail bondsmen.

    The location is an extension of Second Street from Long Beach to the west and continues on eastward as Westminster Ave. It is well known and heavily traveled today. But, the Orange County guys might still be using it even with the development to the east and west. Along the strip, still empty on both sides...So... a little LB/OC history from California.

    Thanks,
    Jnaki
     
    Last edited: Dec 19, 2019
  8. Back in '63 I was visiting my family in L.A. I was driving my shiny new Galaxie 427 (3.50 gears). We were cruising Hollywood blvd. and a '62 T-bird pulls up beside us at the light and the passenger yells "Fords don't go". Funny! A tuna boat T-bird! I decide to educate him. Unfortunately, I have 6 people in my car. Don't know what he had in the bird, but he blew my doors off. The educator got educated that night.
     
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  9. jnaki
    Joined: Jan 1, 2015
    Posts: 4,901

    jnaki

    Hey Chuck,
    That 62 Tbird did not have those swoopy head rests and was painted red, was it? We used to go up to Hollywood in a friend's red Tbird that had those additional head rests for that sporty look from the factory. Those 6 people in your car may have been too much weight even for a 427. ha!

    Jnaki
     
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  10. Hey Junji,
    No, it was turquoise blue. Yeah, 3.50 gears and 1000# of meat don't make a good combination for street racing.
     
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  11. I pulled up beside this ratty looking Duster with exhaust leaks galore. My buddy starts on him about running my 69 442. Light goes green. I hole-shotted him like Jenkins or Sox. I hit second and that Mopar blew past me like I was parked. Left turn on the next street and went home. That was brutal.
     
  12. Jalopy Joker
    Joined: Sep 3, 2006
    Posts: 25,277

    Jalopy Joker
    Member

    yep, Highschool had a '56 GMC with the factory Pontiac V8 (336?) and factory 4 speed Hydramatic - late evening pull up to stop sign on a quiet road and a Hot Rod pulls up next to me and revs his motor - only one car visible behind us - we both punch it and the red lights go on behind us - other guy pulled over & Cop followed him - I just kept my foot into it and quickly turned down a side street and killed lights & parked for about an hour - lucked out. your lesson of checking rearview mirrors before racing on the street is a good one to share.
     
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  13. wheeldog57
    Joined: Dec 6, 2013
    Posts: 1,868

    wheeldog57
    Member

    The Lynn marsh road north of Boston. The history of street racing there goes back a long way. They still race weekend nites. The good: many quick cars. The bad: cops from 3 towns just waiting for us. The ugly: cars going in the marsh

    Sent from my SM-G900V using The H.A.M.B. mobile app
     
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  14. KeithA31
    Joined: Aug 7, 2014
    Posts: 32

    KeithA31

    Those were fun times, had a '64 Biscane with a built 327,4 speed, 4/56 gears in the late 60s. Cruised Schwarz's to Schwarz's in Kalamazoo,MI, fun times if not somewhat crazy, route took you thru downtown 4 lane one way streets, occasionally 4 wide from light to light


    Sent from my iPad using The H.A.M.B. mobile app
     
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  15. porkchop4464
    Joined: Jan 20, 2009
    Posts: 802

    porkchop4464
    Member

    This is a true story I reworked in June, It is a little long but all true.

    "Drag Race"

    It was really out of spite and anger that I first started looking for the car that would shut Drew’s mouth. Friends since middle school, he and I started fighting about a month or so after I was introduced to Tom’s cousin, Christine, who lived just a few towns over.

    Drew’s old man owned a successful body and fender shop in Clifton, NJ; and for Drew’s seventeenth birthday the two found this beautiful 1966 Chevelle. While the car didn’t have matching numbers, for an SS clone, it was set up tight and quite worthy of its reproduction 396 fender flags.

    The body was charcoal black with a rich purple flake, and Drew had somehow managed to get his hands on a set of Corvette rally rims; and I mean the true, seven inch, short cap, Corvette rallies with period-correct Redline Michelins. Man! That car really was lean and clean.

    As will happen in high school, cliques quickly formed around the many words and challenges that raced through the hallways. And it was an early June afternoon, after hearing Drew shoot his mouth off about rocket speed, that I began the search for my car.

    During those pre-Internet days, every motor-head knew that the car sales bible was the Want Ad Press. So, with some effort, by mid-June I had found what I was looking for. The car was a white, 1968, two-door Chevelle, owned by a mechanic in East Hanover who had run short on patience and garage space. With a peeling rag roof, missing body chrome, and quarter panels that you could see through, she was far from easy on the eyes. In fact, when I finally got it in the driveway, I can still see my mom walking out on the front porch, shaking her head, and telling me that I had been taken.

    While the 1700 dollar price tag exhausted every cent to my name, and some kids from school snickered as they passed my driveway, I had a little more faith in my purchase. You see, I knew it wasn’t the outside of that old whore that really mattered. Her true beauty was all internal.

    The front cradle hugged a very healthy 396 with eleven-to-one pistons, rectangle-port heads, a Torker manifold, Mallory ignition, a Holley 750 double-pumper, and a really nasty high duration cam with solid lifters (which took me over two weeks to learn how to adjust). The car had one flimsy fiberglass bucket seat, a six point roll cage, Hurst Line Locks, and a Quick Silver slap-shifter which never quite worked correctly. Bolted to the torque-hungry big block, was a Turbo 400 trans with a B&M shift kit and a 2500 rpm stall converter. All of this made way to the asphalt through a Twelve Bolt, solid-spool, 488 posi! Man! I cry when I think of all the parts that slipped through my fingers in those days. As for the car, there was no doubt; I had my work cut out for me.
    So…

    One night, with graduation and bad blood spattered all about the June sky, this damn kid rolls up behind me as I’m filling my tank at the local Exxon.
    He jumps out of his car and starts walking around mine. He keeps yammerin’ on about how big and awkward the later year Chevelles are. While I ignore most of it, he just won’t shut up with the weight and size nonsense.

    “Well,” I finally speak up. “If she’s so big and nasty, let's just go out there and see!” I was now pointing to Change Bridge Road.

    He looked me over calmly and then glanced down at the hood of his car smiling. With a pause, he waved me off. Blood pressure rising, I pulled my car alongside the plate glass window of the Exxon office.

    I waited and watched as my once-friend faked tremendous interest in a conversation with Ron Belington, the kid pumping gas that night. It should be noted; however, that just a few months back, as a joke during second lunch, Drew smashed all of Ron’s Tator-Totes and got ketchup on his new Metallica shirt. So, while the new-found friendship seemed a little odd, there was very little at that time that surprised me.

    After handing Ronny the money and getting his change, Drew glanced over his hood a few more times and realized it was time to go. You just can’t take more than five minutes to check your oil. Slamming his hood, he hopped in the car, turned the key and made way for the exit.

    I was on his bumper before he reached the road.

    I am not about to play Cool Hand Luke here. I am not going to suggest that I was smooth and relaxed. In fact, twenty-five years later, I can still remember how badly my hands were shaking as we rolled onto Change Bridge Road.

    I must have studied that crappy shifter about seven times in ten seconds. I knew that whatever went down in the next minute or so would be talked about at school and all through graduation practice – maybe even longer.

    With the taillights of that 66 cutting into the dark of evening and the shimmer on polished black paint with each passing street lamp, my heart beat started to feel a little unsafe.

    Then, it happened… I saw his tires break loose and a shutter run through the right quarter panel. He stood on it –and she got up and went.
    I thought I was ready. I mean, I really did think that I was ready; but it was all so damn fast. There was no time to be cool –no time to relax. There was just flat fear. And worse than all that, when I yanked that rickety excuse of a shifter down into Low and mashed the hammer, the 396 made a loud pop through the carb and decided to just sit in endless hesitation.

    There are moments in your life when seconds can last for days and minutes, years. My heart dropped as I thought of the big mistake I had just made. I instantly began to calculate the conversations and attacks in school the next day.

    And then it happened. The steel traps to hell’s furnace opened, and my body, as if kicked by a mule, was slammed back into that fiberglass seat. All there was to do then –was hold on for dear life and keep her straight and on the road.
    I never passed him. I never passed him because Change Bridge Road is a single lane double yellow and I feared not being able to walk him fast enough on the outside. I knew, all too well, given the chance, he would surely hang me into oncoming traffic with a smile.

    But on that night, when I had to back out of my pedal, not two, not three, but four times total within a quarter mile, the value of my seventeen-hundred-dollar purchase quickly came in focus.
    He knew it, and I knew he knew it, because as we approached my street, just a half mile ahead, he kept right on going. Truth is, it is a good thing he didn’t turn in, because no sooner had I made the first hundred feet down Miller’s Lane did smoke start billowing out my right front fender well. I killed the engine and coasted down a block to my mom’s gravel driveway. I miss that stone driveway and the sound it made when you turned into it, even more so than the stupid car.
    A valve cover gasket! I actually blew out a valve cover gasket! How does that even happen? Oil and smoke everywhere!

    Later, I would learn that a blown valve cover gasket is caused by a blown head gasket, which then pushes oil in the water and vice-versa (this is not good). I am not sure if it was my heavy foot or the six grand pulls that I placed on the shoulders of that poor engine that night; but I can say that either way it was all worth the pain of pulling the top-end apart for the first time that same weekend.
    The same night, the second I ran through the door, I called my new best friend, Tom. Of course, the next day at school, he and I weren't quiet about what had happened. The stories varied depending on which camp you were in. Some congratulated me and said that I proved that beauty isn’t everything. Most kids on Drew’s side said that I flat out lied. Interestingly enough, Drew had very little to say about the evening.

    About five years ago, I had dinner with an old friend who had remained neutral through the whole thing. We and our wives headed up to Gasho in Woodbury, NY. It’s one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook in front of you and all. Anyway, we get to talking about high school and what not, and he explained that years after, when he asked Drew what actually happened that evening, there was very little to be said. But one interesting thing he did recall from the conversation was how Drew explained that his old man warned him not to beat on the car before he left the garage that evening.

    Well. I guess that’s one way to call flush; but I was there. I saw that damn car stand up and dig in. I saw him slamming those shifts.

    That kid was in it for all that he and that damn car were worth.
     
  16. Rice n Beans Garage
    Joined: Dec 17, 2006
    Posts: 1,496

    Rice n Beans Garage
    Member

    We have an old thread: L.A. Street Racing Archive. Pleas check it out.
     
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  17. wicarnut
    Joined: Oct 29, 2009
    Posts: 4,270

    wicarnut
    Member

    Here's one I have not told, 68 or so helped brother-inlaw build a killer SBC for his 63 split window Corvette. Ran pretty quick, took it out one night for a cruise/street racing when he was entertaining a young lady at his place, won a street race with it and the Police chased me, got out of their sight and got free and before I got the car back to his place, police came and arrested him, lucky that turned out right, took him to jail/holding cell till am to go before a judge. His defence was, somebody must have stole the car as it was not at his house(rental) and the young lady was his witness that he was w/ her. Judge dismissed case and chewed out arresting officer for wasting his time and apologized to brother-inlaw. In later years spent time w/him (garage therapy) as he was checking out w/ terminal cancer and he enjoyed repeating this story of how pissed he was at me for quite awhile,we laughed about and remembered the stupid shit we did as kids, he was a good man, car guy through and through, makes me think how lucky I was and what a blessed life I've had, still have, won a first in class trophy for my 51 Merc and my wife got a first in class trophy w/ her 51 Buick today, good times, family, friend's is what it's about. Appreciate the HAMB/Members for bringing these memories up and enjoy reading other members stories.
     
    Last edited: Jul 30, 2016
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  18. henryj1951
    Joined: Sep 23, 2012
    Posts: 2,304

    henryj1951
    Member
    from USA

    wish we could ADD shenanigans...
    i might have a few SanDiego street
    ones...? ie; like ditching the cops...lol
    :cool:
     
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  19. I'll have to get Brenda to relate the story of borrowing my Falcon and racing a '55 Chevy on Marchbanks ave.

    This is the street directly in front of the high school. [​IMG] HRP
     
    Last edited: Jul 30, 2016
  20. Johnboy34
    Joined: Jul 12, 2011
    Posts: 1,285

    Johnboy34
    Member
    from Seattle,Wa

    How my friend beat a 70 Hemi Cuda (in 1970) with his 37 Chevy Coupe! If that sparked your interest, well ride along for a minute.Back in High School days, friend buys x drag car. It's a 37 coupe with no motor or trans, all set up for a Nailhead and 4 speed, full Stuart-Warner gauges and Cragars. Having normal low funds he finds and buys a clapped out 56 Buick for the motor, but it has an automatic, Dynaflow I think. I helped him swap it in the coupe and get it going, now this is just a High School car remember. Oh yea, back to the race part..;).. A few weeks later, Friday night, we're headed for a Kegger ( I know, you probably went to a few yourself:D). We're on I-5 heading south from s188th street, just past 200th a new 70 Hemi Cuda comes along side, stays with us for a bit. Ok now the fun part, I tell Kenny to stomp on it so we could see this Hemi get with it.....and so he does... Remember I said automatic, we had also made the floor shifter ourselves, I'll say primitive at best. Well he went to drop it in low when he stomped on it and between the funky shifter and shift pattern, remember reverse was at the bottom not low o_O, so yep you guessed it. Now having accidentally dropped this old thing into reverse at around 60, the rear tires barked in agony :eek:, shoved it back to drive and yelled F@@#%. Stomped on it again and that new Hemi, well he just got behind us :). We took the next exit at highway 516 and pulled over on the ramp, This guy was still behind us :confused:. When he got out I hollered at him and says; why didn't you get on it?. He answers back ; I'm not going to race anybody that break the tires loose at 60 mph! Then gets back in his car and leaves. We laughed so hard while on our knees looking under the car to see if oil was poring out. So if one of you were driving that Cuda, Now you know the rest of the story! :p
     
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  21. well...the worst I had was against - unknowingly on his part - my dear departed friend - lost him before we were 25....we were 18 and he had snagged a 65 Mustang convertible stocker....most knew my Stude but I had got a little 1965 Cuda and worked her over and low and behold I'm out in my hood on a test run - on a road I still drive on....and just over the tracks I come up on Stevie in his stang....it's about a half or more straight road down to a curve....as I pulled up beside to say hello - he floored that stang...geez - I pulled a bumper at least on him and was so proud but - he stayed in it and spun down at the curve just in front of me....and I got past - I made the block to see if he was okay and tell it was me....he was okay - I could see from a distance....but the red lights were coming so I waited until the next day....his stang was okay except for the seat....
     
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  22. ladyhrp
    Joined: Mar 16, 2007
    Posts: 189

    ladyhrp
    Member

    wasn't just any Falcon sprint.
     
  23. ladyhrp
    Joined: Mar 16, 2007
    Posts: 189

    ladyhrp
    Member

    I have always been a car gal, my daddy and my granddaddy both taught me to love cars. My daddy said if I was going to drive I needed to know how to take care of my car, but it was Danny that showed me the love of speed. Running through the gears and watching the speedometer hit 100 was better than any drug for lifting the spirit and calming the nerves.
    My junior year in high school I had classes with a girl who just kept bragging about her "guys" 55 chevy, and how he was teaching her to drive it. It was a nice car and it had some serious power, but it was not that special, but she just keep on, and on, and on.... She drove it to school one morning and she just pushed my last button. I told her my "guys" car was faster, it also had some serious power.
    At lunch that day I left school and took my mustang to Danny ( he was at work) and I drove the falcon back to school. I could have probably beat her in my car but it wouldn't have had the same effect. I pulled through the parking lot and back down on to the main road in front of the school. She saw me and followed me. We lined up and she missed a gear. POOR BABY she wanted best 2 out of 3. We lined up again and I took her by over 2 car lengths. That conversation was over.
    We pulled back into the parking lot and went on to class. ten minutes or so and we were called to the office. Highway Patrol Officer was there. He said he knew it was us but he did not witness it so he couldn't do anything but he would be watching us real close from then on.
    Before I got the car back to Danny he already new what had happened. He tried to be mad but the truth was he was both proud and impressed that had learned how to handle the car and mouthy females.
    When I got home Mama was waiting on me. The school had called. She had 2 questions,"are you going to pull a stunt like that again, and do I need to tell your daddy?" No Mam! As I turned to walked away she asked if I out ran her? Yes Mam! I still love the feeling of seeing a speedometer peg out.

    [​IMG]
     
    Last edited: Jul 31, 2016
  24. Awesome story, Brenda, I love it.:D
     
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  25. DDDenny
    Joined: Feb 6, 2015
    Posts: 13,808

    DDDenny
    Member
    from oregon

    Yes, great story.
     
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  26. Sporty45
    Joined: Jun 1, 2015
    Posts: 847

    Sporty45
    Member
    from NH Boonies

    Ahhh, I know that road well. I worked at GE right at the end of that road for 36 years! Motorcycles go fast on it, too :p
     
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  27. chessterd5
    Joined: May 26, 2013
    Posts: 502

    chessterd5
    Member
    from u.s.a.

    The good: a 1953 Chevy pickup truck body dropped on a sliced & diced 1975 Cadillac suspension, frame, & driveline.
    The bad: a 500 caddy big block & a th400 tranny... & a 149 in a 55.
    The ugly: tickets, tickets, tickets...
     
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  28. Looks like my story almost turned into a book but here it is......


    I hate to admit it but I did more than my share of street racing back in the day but one of the stories that always comes up during BS sessions over a couple of beers involved my 61 Vette. The background story starts when I was in the army serving in good old Vietnam in 1968. A friend of mine would always send me the latest hot rod magazines from the states and I would have a great time reading them dreaming of the day when I would be able to go home and start playing with cars again. Before I got drafted I bought the aforementioned 61 Vette from a friend of mine giving him some cash and a 55 Chevy hard top that was in need of refurbishing. I drove the Vette for a couple of months before Uncle Sam sent me a letter and It then went into storage in my father's garage and off I went on my new adventure. One of the magazines featured a early Corvette that had a big block Chevy crammed into it and that really got the wheels turning. Not being able to spend any of my army pay where I was stationed I was having all of the money sent home and after seeing that article I knew where it was going when I got home. The day finally came when I hit the shores of the good old USA again and not long after I went to the local Chevy dealers parts department to place an order for a all new engine. I told the parts manager I wanted to order a complete 427 L88. He hit his parts books and found that a complete engine was not yet available and that all of the parts would have to be ordered separately. After a lot of whining on my part he finally agreed to look everything up during the course of the week and place all of the orders as soon as he could. Over the next few weeks everything arrived and the build started. Everything was pretty straight forward except for the headers which at the time were not yet offer for that conversion. I ended up buying a bunch of tail pipes with assorted bends and welded up a pretty nice set of headers if I do say so myself. The car was a bear right off the bat and I soon found that I could blow the rear gears pretty much any time I tried to launch even with the various aftermarket gears that I tried. I soon got tired of laying under the car every other day so I finally resigned myself to avoiding holeshots and was just happy to know that I owned a pretty fast car but always declined any challenges from the local speed kings were always trying to get me to prove it. . Now to get back to the street racing story...As most small towns in our area we had a designated road where we would go to settle disputes about who had the faster car. These events were most always at night and depending on what cars that were running they sometimes drew quite the crowd. This was the case one Friday night when two of the fastest cars in town headed off for a showdown. We were all at the local burger joint and word got around that there was going to be a showdown up on Norfolk road at 10:00 PM. A buddy and I headed up to watch the action and we couldn't believe how many cars were lining the road below the starting line. I parked about 30 cars back and we got out and made our way to the line. The two contenders soon pulled up to the line and started doing burnouts. One was a 69 Barracuda with a 440 and the other was a 69 Camaro Z28 both with engines that were far from stock. The flag was dropped and the Barracuda was soon crowned the fastest car in town. All of my buddies tried to convince me to challenge the Cuda to a run but as usual I declined saying that the only thing that I would prove was that I could blow the rear gears. After a big race like this it was customary for some of the other guys who had come to watch the race to play around to see who was fastest and this would usually last until we figured that we'd better break up before the cops got wise to us. While this was going on a friend of mine who own a 68 Vette which was equipped with a small block and automatic so his wife could drive it came over to and asked me to go to the line with him and just "drive it out of the hole" against his 68 just to see how well his car might do against the 61 top end. After much prodding I finally said oh what the hell, just for fun. I made my way to the line and the 68 pulled up alongside and my focus was turned to the guy who was supposed to flag this mock race when I soon realized that the 68 was backing up and soon to be replaced by the bright orange 440 Cuda...Damn it. I had been duped. Well I guess there was no backing out now. I had two choices ,I could try to come out of the hole hard and risk blowing the rear or cool it and hope I could make up ground top end. I chose the latter and before I knew it he was ahead of me by 15 cars I drove of the line as best I could without stressing the rear too much and then started to get on it hard but tires just lit up so I started to feather the gas and it started to bite pretty good and before I knew it I was pulling even with the Cuda and blew by him like he was standing still. I couldn't believe it...This Vette was really fast. I was watching his headlights in the rear view mirror and they soon just dropped , he had given up and just let off the gas. I had just beaten the fastest car in town like he was standing still...Holly crap. That race soon became the talk of the town and as I said earlier , still comes up in conversations to this day. I finally did get my rear end problem solved by installing a 57 Olds reworked assembly but after that night as the stories grew about how fast the car was ,no one wanted to race "that 61 Vette with the big block" but I still manage to do my share of street racing in some of my other cars.... Ahh the memories!

    [​IMG]
     
  29. Great story Moose,"the talk of the town" that's cool. HRP
     
  30. Back in the early 80's we bought a 68 Ford truck that had an unfinished 428 and C-6 swap. It wasn't running, front end was smashed and no drive shaft so we go it cheap. Once we got it home and did a gasket clean up (still in the truck) we realized that the engine was far better than expected. We found some head work, roller rockers, an aftermarket cam, forged pistons and an alloy intake (painted blue). We put a 850 dp on it and a Mallory Hi-Fire ignition in it and it fired up. The trans was fresh with a hi-stall converter and a shift kit. The surprises kept coming with a fresh posi and 4.10 gears in the back. In the end we found a doner truck for the front end and drive shaft. The parts truck even had 390 long tube headers and huge truck mufflers... and with all that we put it on the road. Sleepers rule !!

    One night we were heading home from the Portage Avenue cruise when we picked up a 4 speed Nova with a warmed over 350. After a double bounce and the hit we dusted his butt. The guy followed us home and wanted to see what was in the truck. We told him no way - hood opens for $100. A rematch the next weekend scored us another win and $50. Then we dusted a hot little Maverick Grabber for the same amount. That was a lot of money back then.

    We took the truck to the local strip and ran traction limited low 14s before we spit the driveshaft out of it. We drove the truck to the track and one of us had to find a ride back to town (90 minutes) to find something that could tow the beast. The track threatened to tow the truck if we left it behind so I stayed with it. I didn't expect I would be there all night. 9am Monday morning the track owner was banging on my window. He was good about it and was lauguing at the seat cover pattern in my face. At exactly the same time my friend rolled in with his Dad's Ford Ranch wagon. We rope towed the truck home where it sat for a year before we parted it out.

    The following summer we ran into the guy who bought the engine and trans. He had put it in a 67 Fairlane and was terrorizing the streets. He told us the 428 had been stroked to 450 (ish) and he said he found 11-1 forged pistons, some serious head work. He swapped in a bigger cam that really woke it up. This thing was likely making a legit 500+ hp back in the mid 80's...
     
    volvobrynk, themoose and HOTRODPRIMER like this.

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