This is a follow-up story, I suppose to my other one about being challenged to a drag race over this past weekend.
First of all, let me say that I've never felt the need to race anyone in a car. I think it is very dangerous - especially since you never know what or when a car is likely to do - like blow a tire or whatever. So - to those who are thinking of chastizing me for my antics... lighten up. okay?
This happened waaaaay back last century - when I was about 21. I had my first car, a 1957 Chevy - the model with the fins. It was a purplish color - with light green doors. When I bought it, a fella had jacked up the rear leaf springs with a 'lift kit', which made it look 'bad'... but it was't all that 'hot'... (evidenced by the lack of JW gals that would ride in it). It had a 283 V-8 engine in it - and an automatic tranny. Not really racing material.
Anyway... at the time, I was working a job, part-time weekends at a radio station that went from 6pm to midnight. I would get off work, and drive home after midnight. The traffic was usually light to non-existant at this time of the morning.
One time - driving home, there was this really souped-up car (don't remember whut kind - it don't matter), that wanted to drag race me, and so he did the engine rev, and ran through three gears to pass me on this residential street where the speed limit was posted at about 30 or 35mph. Well, he didn't get too far, as he had to stop at the next traffic light.
Me? I knew the neighborhood, and knew the lights. I was puttering along at the limit of 30 or so, and was holding back, watching the side-lights, and they went from green to yellow - then red. My light turned green, and I had timed it so that I didn't even slow down, and easily cruised past the fella who had to stop at the red.
I heard him...
First gear... brrrrrrrrrp... second gear... brrrrrrrrp... third gear... brrrrrrrrp... whoosh! as he zipped past me... and then had to slow down to a stop at the next red light.
Me? puttt puttt puttt 30 mph - timing the light... as I slipped past him again.
Him? First gear... brrrrrrp... second gear... brrrrrrrp... third gear... brrrrrrp... whoosh! as he flew past me again... and then had to slow down to stop at the next red light.
Me? It was late, and I was driving home. I had once again timed the light, and went through it as it went green, right past this hot rodder.
By this time, I was getting close to home. The fella had finally figured out what I was doing (some folks ain't that bright), and had figured that if he held off, and not zipped past me like I was standing still, he might just make the next light - green.
So, he held back, big throaty sounding engine - right alongside me - as we came up on the next light - that was red... then changed to green. He then shifted into third and whizzed on by me... as I turned into the driveway of my mom's house - where I lived.
I heard his engine as he zoomed off into the distance... sure of his victory.
Me? I was too tired. I just wanted to get to bed. I wasn't really racing him anyway... but sure had fun with him.