All the regular 'fast' guys were busy working on their cars last night in preparation for All Ford Day at Bandimere on Sunday. NONE of the regular street racers were out. It was nothing but a clown convention. However, my cousin is in town from Pennsylvania for the week and I wanted to at least show him a little street racing action.
We were driving out to the local racing spot when a crotch rocket came flying around my car at over 100 mph. I knew there would be at least one good race for me. I pulled up and there was a few people hanging out, the fastest of them being a near stock '03 Stang GT.
The guy on the CR was off his bike and taking his helmet off. I walked over and ask him if he was going to run.
He asked, "Who wants to run me?"
I said, "Me."
"Well, what do you drive?"
I pointed at my Cobra, which was parked right behind him.
"What's done to it?"
"Oh, just a few things."
"A few things, huh? Okay, I'll run ya."
So I cleaned the tires off with a light burnout and we lined up. I armed the nitrous, held it at 2500, and the flagger dropped his arms. The car stumbled, bogged, and then woke up and I was off. I hit second and pulled right around the bike and continued to pull slowly until 125 when I shut down. I put about 4 car lengths on him in the 1/4. When we got back he got off his bike and I noticed his hands were visibly shaking. He walked over and said, "Well... I've never had that happen before." I complimented him on his bike (which was some Kawasaki 600, late '90s if I had to guess. We talked about what was done to my car and he didn't seem to believe me. He was really surprised to have been beaten by a car, even though he claimed he just moved here from California and used to street race there regularly. :shrug:
Anyway, by this time one of my buddies in his '71 Camaro showed up (468 big block with an 8-71). His car has been running a lot better since he put the new tranny and rear end in, so he wanted to run me off the spray just for kicks. I was talking to him when a loud, overwhelming buzzing sound could be heard coming up the hill. There was anywhere from 20-30 crotch rockets of all makes and models all travelling in a group (the movie Fast & the Furious came to mind). Most of them were wearing full 'race' suits with no helmets. :nonono: It was turning into a good night.
I walked over to the group and recognized a kid I knew. I asked him if any of the bikers wanted to run a car. He knows a little about my Cobra, and said that he had nothing for me ('99 R6), but that some of the other guys would probably race me. He pointed out a stock '04 R1 and a modded '04 Kawasaki 600RR. He said he didn't know most of them, they were just riding around. At this point the kid on the Kawi overheard us talking and came over. He seemed pretty ****y and asked what I drove. I pointed at the snake and he kind of rolled his eyes.
He asked, "How fast is it?"
I said, "Pretty quick."
"Well, how quick is pretty quick?"
"Pretty quick."
"Pretty quick or really quick?"
"Pretty quick."
I told him we should run just for the hell of it and he agreed to, but said he was going to go show off first. So he hopped on his bike and proceded to ride a wheelie through a crowd of people at 60+ without warning. I yelled for everyone to get out of the way hoping no one would get hit. I just stood there shaking my head as he performed his little stunt a couple more times before stopping in front of my car. I asked him if he was ready yet and he said, "Yeah." So I jumped in the Cobra, cleaned off the tires again, and lined up. This time I armed the nitrous, but revved it to 3000. The flagger raised his hands and then... the bike dude just took off. So I dropped the clutch as soon as I saw him move and the car started spinning hard. I short shifted second and regained traction and started pulling. By third gear he had gone from being a car length ahead to a car length behind and I pulled ever so slowly to a buck twenty. End result was Cobra by about 2-3 cars.
I returned to the 'lanes' and he was yelling at me to line up again. So I did the same routine, but this time held it at 2500. I let the clutch out fast without dropping it and the car dead hooked and I was gone. He gave up before half track. I figured he had an excuse and would want to go again, but I feared that my tires were getting too warm. I was going to go anyway, but my buddy pulled up in his Camaro before I got the chance. It was a pretty undramatic race as the Camaro short shifted every gear and ended up about even with the bike.
I checked the air in the tires while they were running and then walked over the rice bike crowd to see if anyone else was going to bite. As I got close I could hear them talking crap about my car. I heared things like:
"Yeah, but he's got a blower man."
"But it's a factory blower."
"It's still a blower!"
"He's on slicks, too man. That's not fair."
"You're modded too, though, man."
It went on until they all noticed that I was standing right behind them. Then things just kind of got silent. One kid walked over and asked if I had nitrous. I told them I did and that it was only a 50 shot. Then the shit talking resumed.
"See man, he has nitrous too!"
"Yeah, that Camaro had torque, but no speed like the Cobra. Nitrous is a killer, man."
Etc., etc., etc.
The kid on the modded 600 that I raced came over and started spouting off excuse after excuse. I cut him off and asked if he or any of his buddies wanted to go, then. He said, "No man. It's getting kind of cold out. We're gonna take off." And just like that they all jumped on their bikes and the beehive rode off into the night.
I then raced my brother's friend on his newer CBR600 just for fun. He wanted to see how quick his bike was compared to my car because he knows what I run at the track. He is a damn good rider and even though I hooked good, he kept it within one car length of me.
I was getting ready to run the '71 Camaro when my brother's friend in a near stock LT1 Firebird raced a 3000GT and broke his driveshaft, torque arm, and shock mounts. There were parts all over the road and everyone left after his car broke. We loaded it on a trailer and pulled it to my brother's house and that was the end of the night.
The guy in the Camaro told me he was going to change blower pulleys and do some more tuning on the carbs and he would race me tonight on nitrous. So, I've got that to look forward to.
Moral of my long ass story? There is no more satisfaction than smoking some ****y assholes on crotch rockets in a bolt on Mustang. It was a good night. :-D
We were driving out to the local racing spot when a crotch rocket came flying around my car at over 100 mph. I knew there would be at least one good race for me. I pulled up and there was a few people hanging out, the fastest of them being a near stock '03 Stang GT.
The guy on the CR was off his bike and taking his helmet off. I walked over and ask him if he was going to run. He asked, "Who wants to run me?"
I said, "Me."
"Well, what do you drive?"
I pointed at my Cobra, which was parked right behind him.
"What's done to it?"
"Oh, just a few things."
"A few things, huh? Okay, I'll run ya."
So I cleaned the tires off with a light burnout and we lined up. I armed the nitrous, held it at 2500, and the flagger dropped his arms. The car stumbled, bogged, and then woke up and I was off. I hit second and pulled right around the bike and continued to pull slowly until 125 when I shut down. I put about 4 car lengths on him in the 1/4. When we got back he got off his bike and I noticed his hands were visibly shaking. He walked over and said, "Well... I've never had that happen before." I complimented him on his bike (which was some Kawasaki 600, late '90s if I had to guess. We talked about what was done to my car and he didn't seem to believe me. He was really surprised to have been beaten by a car, even though he claimed he just moved here from California and used to street race there regularly. :shrug:
Anyway, by this time one of my buddies in his '71 Camaro showed up (468 big block with an 8-71). His car has been running a lot better since he put the new tranny and rear end in, so he wanted to run me off the spray just for kicks. I was talking to him when a loud, overwhelming buzzing sound could be heard coming up the hill. There was anywhere from 20-30 crotch rockets of all makes and models all travelling in a group (the movie Fast & the Furious came to mind). Most of them were wearing full 'race' suits with no helmets. :nonono: It was turning into a good night.
I walked over to the group and recognized a kid I knew. I asked him if any of the bikers wanted to run a car. He knows a little about my Cobra, and said that he had nothing for me ('99 R6), but that some of the other guys would probably race me. He pointed out a stock '04 R1 and a modded '04 Kawasaki 600RR. He said he didn't know most of them, they were just riding around. At this point the kid on the Kawi overheard us talking and came over. He seemed pretty ****y and asked what I drove. I pointed at the snake and he kind of rolled his eyes.
He asked, "How fast is it?"
I said, "Pretty quick."
"Well, how quick is pretty quick?"
"Pretty quick."
"Pretty quick or really quick?"
"Pretty quick."
I told him we should run just for the hell of it and he agreed to, but said he was going to go show off first. So he hopped on his bike and proceded to ride a wheelie through a crowd of people at 60+ without warning. I yelled for everyone to get out of the way hoping no one would get hit. I just stood there shaking my head as he performed his little stunt a couple more times before stopping in front of my car. I asked him if he was ready yet and he said, "Yeah." So I jumped in the Cobra, cleaned off the tires again, and lined up. This time I armed the nitrous, but revved it to 3000. The flagger raised his hands and then... the bike dude just took off. So I dropped the clutch as soon as I saw him move and the car started spinning hard. I short shifted second and regained traction and started pulling. By third gear he had gone from being a car length ahead to a car length behind and I pulled ever so slowly to a buck twenty. End result was Cobra by about 2-3 cars.
I returned to the 'lanes' and he was yelling at me to line up again. So I did the same routine, but this time held it at 2500. I let the clutch out fast without dropping it and the car dead hooked and I was gone. He gave up before half track. I figured he had an excuse and would want to go again, but I feared that my tires were getting too warm. I was going to go anyway, but my buddy pulled up in his Camaro before I got the chance. It was a pretty undramatic race as the Camaro short shifted every gear and ended up about even with the bike.
I checked the air in the tires while they were running and then walked over the rice bike crowd to see if anyone else was going to bite. As I got close I could hear them talking crap about my car. I heared things like:
"Yeah, but he's got a blower man."
"But it's a factory blower."
"It's still a blower!"
"He's on slicks, too man. That's not fair."
"You're modded too, though, man."
It went on until they all noticed that I was standing right behind them. Then things just kind of got silent. One kid walked over and asked if I had nitrous. I told them I did and that it was only a 50 shot. Then the shit talking resumed.
"See man, he has nitrous too!"
"Yeah, that Camaro had torque, but no speed like the Cobra. Nitrous is a killer, man."
Etc., etc., etc.
The kid on the modded 600 that I raced came over and started spouting off excuse after excuse. I cut him off and asked if he or any of his buddies wanted to go, then. He said, "No man. It's getting kind of cold out. We're gonna take off." And just like that they all jumped on their bikes and the beehive rode off into the night.
I then raced my brother's friend on his newer CBR600 just for fun. He wanted to see how quick his bike was compared to my car because he knows what I run at the track. He is a damn good rider and even though I hooked good, he kept it within one car length of me.
I was getting ready to run the '71 Camaro when my brother's friend in a near stock LT1 Firebird raced a 3000GT and broke his driveshaft, torque arm, and shock mounts. There were parts all over the road and everyone left after his car broke. We loaded it on a trailer and pulled it to my brother's house and that was the end of the night.
The guy in the Camaro told me he was going to change blower pulleys and do some more tuning on the carbs and he would race me tonight on nitrous. So, I've got that to look forward to.
Moral of my long ass story? There is no more satisfaction than smoking some ****y assholes on crotch rockets in a bolt on Mustang. It was a good night. :-D
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