A buddy of mine, Ted, was in town visiting before I left a certain city in the Southwest, but his trip was coming to an end and I was taking him and his luggage to the airport. So there we were, cruising in the second to left lane on the freeway headed east with the cruise control set at a scant 68mph, the speed limit is 65 after all. I looked in my rear view, as I do quite frequently, and to my surprise, the scenery had changed. There was a shiny new red C7 Stingray rapidly approaching. He flew by us on our right like we were standing still, slowily merging into my lane ahead of me. I thought to myself "Damn, he must have been going at least 100, maybe more, does he want to play?" That's when I looked at Ted and asked "Should I?" He retorted "Well hell, I would if I was you" in a voice that could only be compared to that of Sam Elliot's. By the time he finished his sentence, I had already dropped into 4th, no need to get overzealous, and began to move the needles clockwise. I brought the machine up to about 120-130mph, merged into the far left lane, and held it there for a quick spell until I had passed the Corvette, making my presence known. I then tossed her into neutral, and let her settle down. I had just started to apply light pressure to the brakes at about 90 when the vette caught back up, matched my speed and looked over. We were doing about 70 now. The pilot of this fine automobile used hand signals to ask us if I wanted to run. With all the mechanical foreplay out of the way, I felt obligated to grant his request. I dropped the T56 into 3rd, and brought my speed to about 60mph, playing into the strenghth of the corvette's gearing, but that didn't matter. As etiquette dictates, when he was ready, I initiated a series of 3 evenly spaced honks. I was only on the second honk when I was interrupted. He shook his hand at me, signaling for me to take the hit. It was at this point when I had a bout of conscience, I couldn't just take this offer, it would make things too easy, and it would make any victory I might have seem cheap and unearned. I quickly devised a plan that would allow him to think that I took the hit, and have my fair race. I gave the car just a little bit of throttle angle to open up the exhaust and let him know I was accelerating. At that moment, I heard the symphony of his aftermarket exaust come alive as he pulled about half a car ahead of me. I quickly reacted, and let the boost instantly fill the intake manifold under the 2.3 liter twin screw that was tucked tightly under a crudely clearanced hood. He had no idea what hit him. In 3rd gear I came around him, and by the time I was ready to shift, I was a full car ahead. I put her into direct drive, and let all 18 lbs of cram into the cylinders. I watched the road and glanced at the gauges every so often, letting her sing. The tach climbed, 5 came and went, she swept past 6, and almost touched 7k when I stopped the pull at 150mph. At this point, I had a solid 3 to 4 car lengths on the Corvette. As I was gradually slowing down, the man in the Vette cought up and was wearing an amused look of disbelief. His mouth was slightly open as he let his jaw drop. The only thing I could imagine was going through his head was "Did that Mustang GT just pull on my C7 Corvette!?" I yelled out at him that his car was pretty fast, and gave him a thumbs up. He replied " No, that's fast!! I've never been pulled on like that!! I've never lost to a Mustang!! What do you have done!?" I'm not the type to lie, and to keep it simple, I yelled out "Cobra motor, bigger blower." His blank expression turned into a shit-eating grin and he gave me a thumbs up. We soon parted ways as my exit approached. I was more than happy to have met a good sport from the other side.
Thanks for reading, Ciao! :beer:
Thanks for reading, Ciao! :beer:
