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

This is an off-topic deal, but looks like we're being lenient, so here goes....

Spring of '75 a "friend" needed to sell his brother's '69 AMX, and I was dumb enough to buy it.
This was California Bay Area, Oakland, Livermore, and the like.

Never a street racer, I had been driving V-dubs out of necessity and was just beginning to get a bit aggressive with my Kenosha rocket ship by summer. I was in my early twenties, and still made it home to Livermore to hang with my kid brothers and see what the family was up to, and cruise around looking for any of my high school friends who hadn't left town for good yet.

There was a housing development on the way out of town surrounded by one of those high block walls, and the road along it was a big sweeper that you couldn't see either end of, two lanes each way with a planted center divider, maybe two miles long total, with a big stretch with no side access that ended at a T junction with the highway leading to the freeway that had a four-way stop.

I was cruising the last part of the sweeper on a lazy Sunday afternoon, headed back to my place in Oakland, in no particular hurry, when I glance in the rear-view and see this big Chrysler coming up fast on my left. As he got near I could see his girlfriend was with him, and she looked a little scared, but he had this shit-eating grin on his face like he was going to blow by me and make an impression.

I dropped the 'X into second and nailed it, held him, hit third and started pulling away, so he REALLY got on it and started to pull even again.

We were at about 60-65 by now in a thirty zone. I look ahead, while the idiot next to me is NOT paying attention to where he is going and glaring at me instead. In his lane we have a little Courier pickup going maybe twenty-five with a "geezer" probably younger than I am now driving, just minding his own business. I pointed frantically at the pick-up, while backing off big-time, and the Chrysler (one of those 70's coupes that came with the 440, I think) dodged the truck and disappeared around the bend.

A second or so later, there's this big cloud of tire smoke up over the top of the sound wall, and I motor toward the t junction to find the Coupe doing an unintended donut in the intersection, full 360, and then head SLOWLY up the highway back toward town. I decide to follow a bit, and the dude pulls over, his girl gets out and starts puking right there, while he's leaning against the roof trying to compose himself.

As I slid by them, the dude looks over and gives me this weak-ass wave.

I hung a U and headed home.

 

Short one--->
DEFIANT little smart @$$...(me)

Stopped at a 4 way red light in Chula Vista Ca... criteria mid 60's,
in a black 55 hardtop 301, hilborn, muncie, posi, now remember i said defiant...

The local popo just across the street, also stopped at the light facing me as i faced him,
and the *light changed* as i SIDEslid the clutch and filled up the intersection with smoke,
he rolled 1/2 way into the intersection, as i SMOKED right on by,
yes he had BIG EYES .

I pulled immediately into the corner gas station and got out EXACTLY as he pulled up next to me,
and i said SCREAMED actually *DID YOU SEE THAT* the dang clutch popped -n- the throttle stuck.!!!
i was standing right next to his car (faking a scared look, acting shaken from the experience)
and his 1st look was as if he BELIEVED ME, and then he KNEW better...
sheew i was only warned and set FREE.

I took up LEGAL drag racing as to get my Attitude to a safe place, off the street , but it took a few more
defiant acts like this, till i learned my lesson... more stories to follow stay tooned.

 

Well this is under the bad and ugly category, a wonder I'm still above ground. Repost from the Cool Story 60+ thread.

Summer of '69 Awful Ed and I closed the gas station at 10 and went to hang at Mcdonalds on Metcalf Ave. in Overland Park, KS. The back lot was where all the cool cars parked, we cruise in in my '66 Belvedere I and back in next to a 390 Mustang. Didn't recognize the car from anywhere but get to talking shit about whose faster, my 383 or his lump. Well, we couldn't agree on a race; I have a 4-speed with 3.90 gears, he's an automatic with highway open dif. Ed gets the bright idea to race from a dead stop to top end for as long as it took or run out of road, figuring the Mustang could run us down on the top end.

We decide to go to where the housing developments ended which was 103rd & Metcalf (Hiway 69 southbound). The road was four lanes divided highway and went down to two lanes about five miles out. Go on the third honk, left the Mustang like he was parked. I had just hit fourth when the car pulled hard to the right over the shoulder and down the embankment. As it went down the embankment it rolled onto the roof and stayed on it's top. The windshield had left and the header to the roof acted like a road grader blade shoveling dirt, mud, rocks and all kinda shit into the interior.

Awful and I end up on our backs in the back seat covered in shit wondering how we're going to get out. We kicked the back window out and crawled out under the trunk. When I stood up the road was a little higher than my head but in front of us was a culvert with concrete abutments about 10 feet away. Ed jumps into action and starts grabbing empties out of the car before the fuzz show up. Best we could tell is the right front tire went down.

After the insurance paid out I bought a new '69 Charger. Never did see that Mustang again.

 

I gave up street racing for good after spending too much time and $$ in traffic court trying to save my license, which in the end I did. In NY they have a 3-strike rule. 3 speeding tickets in 18 months and adios license.

I had an OT Bullit '68 Mustang GT fastback. Changed the 390 to a 351 and the 4-speed to an FMX automatic, but the car was light and still brutally fast. Ticket #2 came with racing a big block Chevelle on Sunrise Highway. Plenty of room in front of us, so off we go. I'm a little in the lead and realize i have a cop cruiser behind me, the Chevelle just takes off. He wrote me for 69 in a 55 which was pretty good considering how fast I was going.

We had Route 231 by us and that saw an amazing amount of racing. I was surprised at how lenient the cops actually were about letting it go on for so late. My dad's house was close to where the racing went down. So after we were done at the local bar, a few of us would grab lawn chairs, a case of beer and a few hand-rolled smokes and watch the races. We had great seats and would stay until the cops came or the racing was done. Spectators lined both sides of the street, which was a 4-lane divided highway, 2 lanes south & 2 lanes north. One night, one of the racers had something break on his car and it veered into a parked spectator car... the parked car erupts into a fireball. People running and screaming all over. We stayed for the police and fire trucks. As scary as it all looked, nobody was seriously hurt. That incident ended the racing on 231, the cops had zero tolerance for it from then on.

 

With over 62 years of driving, I have lots of street racing stories to tell, and if this thread lasts long enough, I'll try to relate a few more. This one is prolly the funniest, and I was a passenger, not the driver in this story. The time frame was late 50s/early 60s.
Lots of us here in my small town worked at the car plants then in Atlanta, 3 of them, all gone now thanks to imports. I, and many more, worked @ the Fisher Body/Chevy Lakewood plant on the evening shift.
The route home was US41/19, approx. 40mi., with almost 30 of it divided 4lane, non interstate, non limited access road Our quitting time was, depending on dept. for 8hr shift was either 12:36am or 1:00am, and we worked a lot of overtime when the cars were selling well. I was in the body costruction dept. getting off @ 12:36 but at the time car pooling with guys form all depts. so we didn't leave for 24 min. after the body shop got off. This 4 lane road had been open for only about 5 years, and about 20-25 miles of it detoured from the old 2 lane road, had no roadside development to speak of, and there was lots of 'top end" racing.
This particular night I was a pasenger in a '54 Buick Century, and we got into a race with a '57 Ford, and we were about 4-5 miles into the undeveloped stretch racing side by side WFO @ about 120 when we passed a station wagon off on the shoulder. It was some more of the guys from work who had left with the early leaving group, had a flat tire, had jacked up the old '50 Chevy wagon with a bumper jack and pulled the flat tire off and were preparing to install the spare when we both came racing by.
The blast of air from those 2 cars side by side @ 120 blew the old station wagon off the bumper jack, but luckily it didn't catch anybody as it came down!
We caught hell the next day @ work though, as they recognized the 2 cars and knew who was in them! LOL!!!

 

had a 69 GTO Judge in high school. 4 speed, and a 3.90 posi. had it until I was 22 or so. if my memory were better I could write a book about street racing. now that I am an old fart I would have understood if one of the many cops I encountered in my youth dragged me out of the car, beat my ass and lit the car on fire.

how about this one? two stupid fucks (one was me) on a 4 lane street in town, go from a 20 mile roll, probably got up to 70 or so when a car coming the other way gets into the turn lane, I hit the brakes to slow down while the other guy keeps going, the car makes a u-turn in front of us and the other guy rear ended him. I drove home with my tail between my legs and found out later it was decided that the u-turn guy was found to be at fault. no witnesses. nobody got hurt.

here's a more fun one. my buddy had a 1969 Mach 1. I'd guess my GTO would have run mid to high 13's, he actually ran a 15 something at Fremont. I bet we raced each other 25 times, every time I went up in smoke, then passed him like he was standing still. so this time I just decided to go easy and try not to spin the tires too much and this time I was out front from the get go. who would have thunk giving less gas would make you faster?

 

About 15 years ago I participated in my last red light to red light race on Whitehall Road and it was a spur of the moment deal like many other races in the past.

I was driving my 39 Ford convertible on a Saturday afternoon and pull up beside a Thunderbird Super Coupe,I look over and low & behold it's the the Anderson County Sheriff.

Gene Taylor was the youngest Sheriff we have ever had and the Thunderbird was confiscated in a huge drug sting,thus he took advantage of the spoils of the drug war.

I thought a little background would help with the story.

So,I look over at Sheriff Taylor and jokingly say,"Wanna run that piece of shit? and he said,"Sure".

We both nailed it but he beat me to the next light,he had a big grin on his face and said,"I'll bring the ticket to your shop next week." and turned to the right.

I never got a ticket. HRP

 

Danny, may be a good thing he won!

 

Probably so Dave, but I didn't let him win. HRP

 

This story is from 1960 or 1961. There were very few rods of any kind on the streets of northern New Jersey owing to the oppressive motor vehicle inspection rules but I was out in my stock bodied 29 RPU with warmed 283 and 4:10 rear. And I rarely got into a street bash. So one night I left our club barn with five guys in the bed and another next to me. We were headed to the burger joint hangout a few miles out of town. I came upon a light where a brand new Cadillac was sitting. Still had plastic on the seats, stickers on window etc. Guy had his wife with him. Car looked good. All windows down. He looked over at us and said something about once owning a Model-A and the lighy changed. He floored it and so did I. The guys in the bed were cheering me on. The guy in the Cadillac was incredulous. He kept looking over and I was still there. His wife was rolling on the seat laughing. Their brand new $5,000 Cadillac was getting beaten by seven guys in a Model-A Ford truck. I backed off at about 70 mph and the Cad never let up. I tell people he's probably still going.

 

One of my street racing stories takes place in 1964 in Auburn Washington. In the 60s there was a fair amount of street racing, especially in Seattle. Still we found good places to race east of Seattle. One such place was the Crain-Wabash rode east of Auburn off the Enumclaw highway. My little brother (three years younger) got me into a race with a guy that he knew. At that time I was driving a 55 Chevy 2-dr Htp with a 301" SBC. Car was pretty fast, ran consistant low 13s . They guy I was to race for $50.00 was a fairly stock, full fendered 1930 Model A coupe with a 283, 3-speed. I knew what my car would do and thought no way could a stock 283 could beat me. We lined up and were flagged off. We came out the hole pretty even. The Model A started to pull me, I couldn't believe it! The further we got to the end of the quarter mile the further ahead he got. He beat me by three open. we were supposed to go two out of three. I saw no point in that, paid up the $50.00, put my tail between my legs and got the hell out of there. Lesson learned, light weight can beat horsepower. Was pissed off at my brother for awhile for sucking me into that race, but soon got over it. ore careful in the fut

ure about who and what I raced.

 

Similar story to previous post, back in the day, used to rebuild alot of carbs for guys and do tuneups. Friend "Crazy Dave" brings a 2X4 setup to be rebuilt for a buddy of his, get it done and owner brings his new 66 Chevy 2, 350, 4 Speed car and asked me to install, So......, leaves car w/ me and Dave takes him home, later Dave comes back, had her done, AND Dave said, let's test drive it, my answer was, don't want to chance it, my license was suspended, driving very minimal and carefully, So.... against my better judgement we go for cruise, Surprise ! Crazy Dave starts banging gears and we blow past a cop sitting doing paperwork or whatever they do, Red lights on and the chase starts, city streets up to 100 MPH, now more than 1 chasing us, will admit, a bit scared, we get out and abandoned car at a big dump site and run like hell and with troops surrounding the place, somehow we got out and to a house of somebody he knew. Rest of story, cops show up at car owners home and take him to jail and in Court AM, cop ID's him as driver, him and Crazy Dave looked like brothers, gets a Huber-Law sentence, NOW I'm worried, But again all was good as he knew it was Crazy Dave. Funny thing, If anybody brought their car to me to work on, people stated, NO Crazy Dave test runs ! LOL, When this stuff pops in my head from the posts on the HAMB, it always reminds how LUCKY and fortunate my life has been back then and today.

 

Another story poped in, 16/17 and cruising w/ a buddy and his girlfriend, in back seat w/ my sweety, I never saw it coming, we were heading west and 2 guys took off drag racing going east, street had a mild curve, and the 2 racing never let up till too late, result, my buddy, crushed hip and bit his tongue off, always sounded like he was drinking from then on, his girl, broken shoulder, ribs, other misc, complete recovery, my girlfriend and I were thrown from car, she was not hurt much, scrapes, bruises, I, on the way out smashed my face on something, some cuts, lost teeth,concussion, we all survived and recovered. The driver of car that hit us head on ended up in a wheelchair and was prosecuted for manslaughter as his passenger/friend died. Ironically, only car accident I've been in was this event, AGAIN, I'm a LUCKY man

 

I've been lucky street racing, just got some tickets and broke some parts. Back around '72-77, my group partied harder than most, but when racing time came, we did it less the intoxicants. I was selling '65-67 Impala parts back then and business was good. One guy we knew had a horrible rep for driving/racing while polluted and he just wrapped up his '66 Chevy. So I give him a good price on a new nose and dropped it off in his driveway. A few weeks later I hear that he wrecked his Chevy AGAIN, totaled it this time. It slips from my mind, then one day I happen to go past his house maybe a month later, there he is out on the front lawn on a nice summer day... in a wheel chair, paralyzed. Never did hear the story on his crash.

 

It was 1976 and my brother was having his senior class picnic. So he asks to swap my '67 Impala SS with a warmed over 327 in it for his ratty GMC pickup. Yeah, why not...

At some point at his picnic, alcohol was involved and so is a bit of street racing. So he's running my Impala in a few of them. The cops show up and he splits, takes one cop on a run and loses him. Never says a peep to me. All of a sudden I'm getting stopped left and right for driving normal. I mention this in front of one of his friends and out comes the story. I wound up having to sell the car, it was Nassau blue and the front fenders were primed, so it stuck out. The guy I sold it to, he started getting stopped until the cops realized the car had changed hands.

 

Old story that everyone knows already, but hell I'll play.

my first real street race was 3/10 mile (measured).I was in a '55 Ford ranch wagon with a 292 inch Y block. The fella I hooked up with had a '56 Chevy post car with what he said was a 265. Both 3 speed cars. he trounced me off the line and on the big end.

Someone said that he was probably lying about what was under his hood.

Anyway long story short, I was whining about being beat at a friends house and his mom says to him, "take the Beaner out behind the barn and find him a fast motor." Out behind the barn sat a '57 T bird that had been wrapped around a pole, a 312 car. So the swap was pretty straight forward. Some friends came with a shifter and some other pieces. I went and found me a '56 Chevy. After I spanked him real good I told him that all I did was tune up a little bit and change the rocker covers and the shifter.


I have been useless ever since.

 

Hello,

In 1966, I was in Mountain View (Nor Cal) visiting some friends. After leaving their apartment, I was ready to turn onto the main drag toward the Bayshore Freeway back to San Jose. All of a sudden, here comes this Mustang fastback racing a small MGB that did not sound normal for a 4 cylinder. I could see and hear them down the street coming toward us. I was waiting at the stop light in the right turn lane. The intersection we were in was wide and the light was red for us. This MGB was ahead of the Mustang and decided at the last minute to turn right on the street where we were ready to make a right turn. Well, to make a long story short, he did not make the right turn as his speed was too great and he probably would have rolled right into us if he turned sharply. But, he did crash into us.

So, in an instant, he crashed into my driver’s door of the red El Camino. The impact threw me over to the right. My passenger hit her head on the dash and side window. (Remember, no padded dashes in 65) I was a little dizzy, but my passenger was really out of it. The MGB was stuck in my door and I had to crawl out of the passenger side. The police were there in an instant, making me believe this MGB and Mustang were being followed.

We were taken to the Stanford Medical Clinic for x-rays and check-ups. We were still a little dizzy, but no broken anything. The cars were towed away and the MGB driver was arrested. I saw the El Camino the next day and with a few yanks of the door, it was still drivable. So, the MGB’s insurance paid for all of the medical, fixing the car, and future medical expenses for both of us. It was a long drive back to Long Beach with a crushed door, broken window, and bent fender.

By the way, the Mustang was losing and ran away as soon as the crash happened. It all happened in an instant and we were like deer caught in the headlights. So, be careful out there…plus, this locale was not good for street racing, those idiots could have chosen many other empty streets near the big airfield nearby.

Jnaki

 

My first car was an faded competition orange ex-drag car that Dad and I drug home from a field. I sat on a milk crate and steered the '62 Nova hardtop home with vice grips clamped on the steering column rod. When it finally hit the road it was crazy fast: 400 sbc, built 350 turbo with a stall converter etc. etc. By the time I was 17, I was a veteran street racer. A year earlier on my 16th birthday my grandmother had given me a $100 bill in a card. After a year of nearly weekly racing, it was still in the glove compartment if you know what I mean.

One afternoon I pulled in to the old Sinclair station to get some gas. After filling up I went in to pay. I had noticed with some trepidation, the shiny new State Patrol Car sitting out front. As I entered the Trooper (long since passed) was talking with the very mouthy owner of the station about his new “Interceptor.” I handed a $5 bill to Earl who was giving the cop all kinds of trouble regarding the Crown Vic cop car.

All of a sudden, he interrupted the cop and said, “Why that Ford couldn’t get out its own way if you wanted it to!” Several of the spit and whittle loafers that always sat and gossiped at the station laughed out loud. The Trooper fired back a few select expletives. Then Earl popped up and said, “That new cop car of yours isn’t the fastest car in the State, hell it isn’t even the fastest on this parking lot.”

I had a feeling I knew where this was going and slowly started my way toward the door. But it was too late. I’ve got a $100 bill that says that little orange car at the pump out there would “walk” that Interceptor of yours. The Trooper looked out the large plate glass window at my car at the pumps. I will admit, it didn’t look like much.

“I wouldn’t even waste the gas on that thing let alone my time,” he sorted of laughed out of the side of his mouth.

“I would like to see that too,” piped up another one of the loafers, “I would put a $100 on it as well.”

The Trooper looked over at me still attempting to slide out the door. “You think that’s a good idea, boy?” he said.

Now as an adult, with all my synapsis supposedly connected, there are many things I know I could have or even should have said. But there was something in his tone that sort of rubbed me the wrong way as a brash young man.

“For me or you?” I replied.

There was an immediate uproar from the loafer’s corner and they all got to their feet. “That’s $200,” Earl said, “Unless you’re worried about the paint on that thing.”

“Paint?” the Trooper questioned.

“Yep, I think that little orange car is going to suck it right off!” cackled the station owner. The rest of the room joined him in goading laughter.

“I think you boys are just throwing your money away, but I don’t mind taking it,” the Trooper said as he tipped his hat and headed for his cruiser.

A few minutes later just a mile or so down “old” Highway 37 sat a 17 year old kid and six or seven 40 plus year old men all acting like 17 year olds. I knew this road well. This was “the road!” This is where you tested your car. This is where you street raced. This is where I grew up.

The State Patrol Car did a little burnout and stopped. I lit the tires like a pro-stock car and smoked them right by him and up the road a bit. I could see him trying to get his window up as I burned passed. Then I slowly backed into position and Earl came to my window.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked him, “What if he gives me a ticket?”

“Awe!” Earl groaned, “He is guilty as you are and there are a ton of witnesses.”

“So what am I supposed to do here,” I added as he started to back away from the car.

“Blow his ass off the road!” Earl said as he rounded my front fender and slapped my hood, “Blow his ass right off the #@%^ road!”

Earl stepped up about 10 feet from the cars in the middle of the old highway. He held up the greasy faded red shop rag that was normally hanging out of his back pocket. He looked at us both, I put the car on the converter and then he swung his arm down.

The Nova planted the rear tires, stretched the front shocks, and was gone! The tachometer read 5 grand in a heartbeat as I punched the ratchet shifter which launched the car into second. As usual, it pulled hard again, the torque from the 400 fighting to keep the nose a bit skyward. The car was screaming now but leveling out as it approached 5,000 rpm again. I took a quick look around and the Trooper was at least 3 car links back. I made the final punch at the Hurst Quick Silver ratchet knob and let the old girl hunt, as they say. At this point she was licensed to fly.

I held it to the floor well past the quarter mile marker, putting an exclamation point on the affair. Earl claimed the Ford got beat by 15 car links. Now I cannot confirm that but I WAS getting out of my car back at the gas station when the Trooper rolled through.

You know I miss those days but they are gone forever. The days were kids road in the back of pickups, high school coaches tried to kill you, a school principal wasn’t afraid to knock the soup out of someone and a State Trooper would drag race his car. Just try any of that today and see what happens!

 

Late 59' I was coming home a 12 o clock and setting at the red, a white 57' post pulls up in the fast lane

I get the street racers ' Rappa Rappa ' do you want to race it so I Rappa back green goes on and he got me by a car

Turns off and waves good by next day a work I see the same car next to my job, go over a lunch and see this tall blond dude go up and say hi

Well it turns out that was the guy I had raced and he was Kenny Safford , became good friends and would see each other at Bobs Big Boy then later when I was running my gasser and he was running the ' Sour Sisters ' top fueler

R.I.P. Kenny, Don

 

I have a few, but right now no time. This has brought back quite a few memories. I'll post when I have more time.

 

Love this shit!! Keep it comin.

 

I guess enough years have passed that I can tell this one. About 1958 or so I was cruising down Western ave in L.A in my '40 coupe. A guy comes beside me in a '47 or so sedan and wants to race. We punch it from a roll and are going pretty fast when he somehow clips a car going the opposite direction. As I look in my rear view mirror I see the '47 with its butt in the air and the rear end falling out. I pulled into my pal's wrecking yard (where I was headed) and hid my car among the wrecks. My passenger and I walked up to the scene of the wreck as though we were curious bystanders. No one got hurt and we never got nailed. Dumb luck.

 

Back in '66 while spending the last few nights of freedom from the Army, I and a friend who had just purchased a new 360 horse '66 Chevelle, decided to see how quick his new ride was. Me, I was driving the car in my avatar, a suedo gasser '55 Nomad, built 265" with overdrive......

We lined up in front of the local country watering hole headed for the next. Both dropped the hammer and I holeshot him by a bunch, and we both kept it on the boards, and about a mile down the road, there sat a cop, hidden from our view on a dark side street. He pulled out in chase, and my friend got scared and pulled over. Rodney got a ticket for 123 mph in a 55 zone.

The cop told him if he ever catches "that other guy" he won't drive again for ten years. I ran out of gas about 6 miles down the road and coasted to a stop. Rodney finally showed up and we finished our trip. Laughing all the way. Well, I was anyway......

 

all of these stories are brought into a visual with street racing in American Graffiti since cell phones were lacking back in the day

 

The scene by me went away except for high $$ races in the wee hours. My property backs up to a big enough highway that is perfect for these matches, which went off around 2-3 AM at almost any time of the year. Me and my wife would hear them unloading the cars and we'd watch.

Cars were close to a pro-stock, always trailered and it drew a big crowd. The traffic behind the racers was sparse, but they would have cars to slow it down as not to interfere with the racing. Some nights it was just a pair of cars, sometimes there were 2 sets of cars racing.

Unload, stage and go. The trailers followed and picked the cars up on the service road. Then the crowd dispersed, the whole dealie happened within a 10 minute window at the most. One time the law showed up DURING the staging, talk about a scramble. Looked like roaches reacting to a light being turned on.

Either they are now racing elsewhere or have taken it to the tracks, I haven't seen it in about 5 years.

 

Did a lot of street racing back in Detroit in the late 60's. The one I remember the most was with a 396 Chevelle and a GTO on Telegraph rd. Was putting together a pretty hot 63 Ford 406 2x4 4sp. when I got drafted. Finished it up in time to enjoy it a couple weeks before I had to go. One nite I was cruisin' Telegraph following behind the 396 & the GTO, watching them run from a couple lites thinking "I can beat them". Next lite I roll up next to them (Telegraph was 3 lanes) letting them know I wanna play. They both kinda snickered but after I beat them by a couple cars they weren't laughing so hard. They didn't want to play anymore.
Fast forward 20yrs I'm driving down Telegraph one Saturday nite in my good looking but tired 79 Ranchero w/an even more tired 351m c4. Just minding my own business a jacked
up car (Nova I think) pulls up next to me and starts revin'and goosin' it. Now older and more wise (?) I'm thinking "what's wrong with this guy". I just let him drive on. Later it dawned on me he wanted to race. Duh! Talk about feeling old. Good thing I didn't run him, he would have blown my doors off and the way my luck was running at the time I would have busted or something worse.

 

My brother had this ratty '64 GMC long bed with a 327/350 HP Chevy and the truck 4-speed. Think it had a 4.56 rear and 15" split rim truck tires. It was deceptive since it was 3600 lbs. I saw him dust off some pretty nice cars with it. And he'd dump the clutch in 1st gear sometimes. It sounded like the end of the world until he hit 2nd.

 

It was about 1985 in Canton Ohio and I was driving north up Cleveland Ave , which is a undivided four lane , from downtown in my 68 Vette 427/435hp tho it now had dual quads plus a few other mods instead of the original tri power and its about 230 in the AM . Cruising had been dead here for almost 10 years now but the wife and kids were out of town and I was restless so I went out for a late night "drive " . I rolled up to the light at 12th and up beside me rolls a T-bucket with a small block in it being driven by a young kid ( I was about 34 at the time ) . He made his intentions known and I decided what the hell , why not . When the light turned green he got about two cars on me but by the time I was about half way thru second I was going around him . So we pulled up to another light and he wants to go again , and of course I obliged him , and again with the same result . Now as well roll up to the light at 25th there's a citizen sitting there in the left lane and I pull up on the right and the bucket is now behind the citizen and im sitting there thinking I should get the hell off the avenue and disappear into the night when all of a sudden a cop car comes whipping around us with tires screeching and they pull up in front of me and they both jump out . It was like watching a scene from Starsky and Hutch !! One cop runs runs up to my door and screams at me to shut the car off ...RIGHT NOW !!! The other cop runs back to the kid in the bucket and of course the citizen drives off at the green . Now the cop leans down and says well buddy you won the race and let me fill you in on exactly what you won . Your going to get busted for street racing , your going to jail , a thousand dollar fine , your gonna lose your license for a year and your gonna need high risk insurance for the next 3 years after that . And then he told me something that sent shivers down my spine . You also get a free tow for the Vette . So I admited I was wrong but asked if I could just park the Vette and have some one come and get it , to which he replied no way Jose , you get the whole package , so just sit tight for awhile . Now I can hear the other cop raggin on the kid in the bucket , telling him his piece of shit doesnt even look road worthy and im praying he doesnt do something stupid and make this worse than it already is and then something really unexpected happens . The kid starts up the bucket and drives off !!! And im thinking , damn kid knew somebody and im gonna get left " paying the bill " all on my own . So they made me get in the cruiser and the one cop starts on about how im too old to be out here racing cause I probably got a wife and kids at home , then informs me im gonna get a break and they are going to give me a ticket for doing 110 in a 35 zone . He also warned me if he found me back up here again , he'd get me for racing and he'd get me for this one as well and added if you dont believe me , try me !! . Told me to take that " monster " home which is where I should be as well ..... now to the funny part of the story .... two weeks later I needed to show my drivers license for id and they looked at it and informed me my license needed renewed , it had expired 3 months ago !!! How these cops missed this , I have no clue to this day . Sometimes the ball just rolls your way I guess .

 

Okay, so this is not a race, exactly...

A friend of mine had a '64 Chevy II with a stock 283/Powerglide. He did all the teenager hot rod crap to it - big tires out back, skinnies up front, big cam, big converter, and a 9" rear end with 3.73s. This poor thing was weak on motor, but he used to drive it around with a full nitrous bottle and a 250 plate and THAT would make it come alive.

He had this "trick" he liked do where he would sit at a red light and put the car in Neutral, and run some nitrous through the engine. Real sharp, real crisp revs. Sounded good. I don't really know why he was doing this but he loved to do it.

One day I pulled up beside him at a red light and he decides to do his nitrous revving deal. Only thing is, he forgot to put it in Neutral first. The revs came up, the converter flashed, and that little Chevy II damn near did a wheelie into cross traffic. He jumped on the brakes, which didn't do a whole lot of good, as the little drums locked up those front tires instantly and it skid for a good twenty feet. And of course it stalled. All this time, people are honking and flying around him. He finally got it fired up, and backed up beside me with the biggest grin on his face. Good times...

 

This is interesting. I was looking for a car the summer after high school graduation, I has narrowed my choices to a 69 Mach I or a 68 GTO. I decided to buy the Mustang, my buddy then bought the Goat. A week or so later I pull up to an intersection and here is my buddy in the GTO. It's late, no one is around so of course I have to prove I made the right choice. We take off, he just sits there smoking the tires as I feather it off and I'm gone, 2,3 car leanths by the time I hit 3rd. and the red lights started flashing. Niether one of us saw the 2 police cars in the parking lot, we get pulled over. My buddy is behind me so the cops talk with him first. As he sits there trying to deny we were racing the cops chew him out but good and writes him a drag racing ticket, bad news. Told him to take off, now it's my turn. Cop comes up and says "suppose your going to say you weren't racing too" which I just replied, "you saw it, wasn't much of a race now was it". Kinda smiled and let me go. My older street racing brother had taught me you have better luck NOT trying to bs the cops, paid off that night.
Then there was the night I got stopped out at our local illegal drag strip, I was driving my twin brother's (twin being the key word, we looked so much alike we could switch on our dates) Ranchero. Talked my way out of a tickit by promising I'd never go out there again. Guess I should of mentioned this to my brother but how would I know he'd go out there the next night and so would the same cop!​