Sometimes, things are never what they seem…
“Dan? Dan? What just happened?” asked Sally, still stunned by the loss to the Black Car.
Dan was quiet and contemplative, unsure himself, and not even really hearing Sally at all. To top it all off, he still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that just beat him in the shortest time he had ever been beaten – at the launch. Dan’s Buick was no slouch and was well respected among the car racing community, as was Dan himself. But this “ANNIL8R” car was something else – and it sounded like it was turbo’d but he couldn’t tell for sure. What did strike him especially odd was how the exhaust got louder just sitting at the light waiting to go. Apparently, the driver had some sort of remotely adjustable dump tube (or would that be ‘tubes’ since the car had to be a V8 in Dan’s opinion) and while Dan had heard of such an apparatus (the old GTO Judge from the late ‘60’s or early ‘70’s had it – but he couldn’t remember precisely the year), he had not seen one on a car in this area. Either way, there was no question that this was not some ordinary car. Or for that matter, no ordinary driver…
If Dan only knew…
*************************
”What do think that guy in the Buick is saying now?” asked the passenger in ANNIL8R.
“Oh, if I know Dan, and trust me – I DO know Dan – he’s puzzled like hell and can’t believe he just lost. He won’t take it sitting down either – he’ll be back looking for us sooner or later and with something up his sleeve too. But what HE doesn’t know is that I didn’t even show him everything tonight. Just a little ‘taste… yes… just a ‘taste’!”
Both of them laughed out loud at the innuendo, the black car rolling on into the night before circling around the city and heading back in on Rt. 47. Not much traffic out that way, so it was easy to slip back into the warehouse via the remote control door opener.
As the door rose, an eerie neon glow crept out from beneath it to expand onto the hood of the Black Car, giving it a devilish, greenish glow that seemed as if it radiated deeply from within the paint. Pulling on into the wide bay, the driver let the motor idle a moment or two, listening to the faint whistle of the turbo’s through the still-open exhaust. The gloved hand reached down and opened the console door, revealing a knob that looked like an old-style choke cable. Pushing the knob back downward towards the bottom of the console lengthened the cable, the steel actuator at the other end operating a scissors type pair of cables that pulled two 3.5” plates atop a Kevlar gasketed opening, closing the open dumps. Immediately, the car sounded like any other DOHC Mod motor with a twin Dynomax exhaust – quiet but intimidating. Even the whistle was subdued much more and barely noticeable. Just the way it was supposed to be.
The young female passenger jumped out of her side, her black skirt sliding up her thigh as she stepped from the door. The creamy skin caught the driver’s eye and a grin followed quickly…
“You like?” she asked.
A simple nod affirmed the response.
“Well, come with me and we’ll see what we can do about another ‘kill’ for you tonight”, she grinned, her blouse already unbuttoned revealing her ample cleavage as she headed towards the couch…
It was going to be one of ‘those’ nights thought the driver, peeling off the black driving gloves, holding the fine leather accessories close to smell them. Leather was something very special and the woman sitting on the couch - who was now wearing only a naughty smile and the tight, VERY short black leather skirt - had learned that long ago.
Their eyes were locked as the driver walked closer, the woman on the couch now revealing even more by parting her knees ever so slightly…
Yes indeed, it was going to be one of ‘those’ kind of nights…
*******************
The dream repeated itself often but usually with some slight changes… it might involve flying over a blind hill and the road going away with the driver in the car falling to what looked like certain death. Or, the driver may be in semi-darkness, hearing something (someone?) stalking him, close enough to ‘feel’ something brush close but then disappear… or whispers. Whispers that sounded deep and foreboding, threatening and intending harm but never quite revealing the source.
It always, always centered around fear. The kind of fear that could grip your spine and freeze you motionless. The kind of fear that you can feel to the pit of your stomach, like when your spouse says ‘We need to talk…’. The kind of fear that comes from a telephone ringing at 8 minutes after 3 am and you just know that the call is not good news.
He knew that fear – every night. Yet, he didn’t really know what drove that fear. He hadn’t told HER about his dreams, not wanting to really frighten her with the details. Sometimes, the dreams were similar but different; gory, bloody dreams but never really seeing the victim (victims?) or the killer. He could feel that that ‘predator’ was out there somewhere… just waiting for him to become hyper-fearful before it struck, letting him know that fear, unlike other emotions, is usually well founded and not something to ignore…
It was going to happen. Sooner or later, it was definitely going to happen…
*****************
The driver was awake before the woman who was now lying naked on the couch wrapped in the afghan. ANNIL8R’s hood was up and the driver was busy with an adjustment to the wastegates on the twin Turbonetics T76’s. ANNIL8R had a special mission later tonight and everything needed to be in good working order. Killing the white TR was easy – the next victim might prove a little more difficult…
The woman beneath the afghan heard the sounds of sockets ratcheting and began to stir.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked dreamily, stretching her sinuous arms upward and tilting her head back, her hair mussed up and looking even more beautiful than the night before.
“There’s a time to sleep – and a time to work,” said the driver. “Now, it is time to work…”
She got up off the divan and stood there still stretching.
“Well, I’m gonna grab a shower. Maybe we can do breakfast after?”
“Sure…” muttered the driver, the leather clad hands making the final adjustments.
She walked over to the car and stood looking over the driver’s right shoulder, admiring the 4.6 DOHC masterpiece. The modular motor is indeed a beautiful creation, hand assembled and signed by the workers who did so. Twin overhead cams controlling the valves that allow the intake air and fuel charge to enter or expel the exhaust outward through the headers. Where before there was a supercharger, now a large polished plenum resided, it’s opening hiding from view the polished and gaping throttle body inside. Enormous ductwork allowed the intercooled air charge to route itself into the T/B while the exhaust did the work of spinning the impellers that sucked the air inward in the first place. All the internals were essentially bullet proof. An electric water pump kept things cool with the stock water pump being used as an idler, its impeller removed. Twin coil packs (one on each side) sent the spark down 10 mm wires and through the plugs, igniting the fuel/air mixture. The dyno confirmed what the eye wanted to believe – this motor made serious, serious power. Not just horsepower, but torque - mountains and mountains of torque. Horsepower sells car – but torque wins races, and this was a lesson the driver learned long ago.
Torque that could move a house off its foundation… or, that would change lives forever. Watching the woman smile and turn, heading into the shower a thought crossed the driver’s mind – maybe she needed someone to wash her back?
Most definitely…
*******************
“Well, what are you going to do tonight?” asked his friend Bill. Steve and Bill could usually be found together when the weather was good – and usually up to no good themselves. Oh, nothing serious – just a lot of street racing. Steve owned the only GNX in the area and had bought it new. He had bought the car from a dealer in Ohio and had it hauled to his hometown, nearly 900 miles from the dealership, paying cash for his dream ticket. He had shopped around a long time before he saw the GNX, even looking seriously at a GN and a WE4 but not really sure if that was what he wanted. He had owned two GN’s before, one an ’86 (with the cool chrome strip above the grill) and an ’84 hot-air, both cars essentially stock save for some bolt-on’s.
Back then, the market for the Turbo Buick guys wasn’t nearly as developed as it is now but still he had no problem with 95% of the 5.0 guys he ran with. The only ones that were any threat at all were the ones nearly unstreetable so he didn’t sweat them.
But the ‘X’ was different. He had pulled the motor and tranny nearly 6 years ago (it had less than 16,000 miles on it) and stored it in his heated garage ever since in a dehumidified and temperature controlled room that was separate from the rest of the garage. Even that room was a story itself – it had a lot of high horsepower stuff in it, including an original 426 hemi from a wrecked ’71 Challenger he bought from a buddy just to have the motor. Most every kind of high performance engine was in that room somewhere.
But what he put back into the ‘X’ was even neater – a fully built Stage II motor, most of the work done by Duttweiller’s shop. Putting nearly a thousand horsepower to the rear wheels yet essentially completely streetable, it was one of Ken’s greatest masterpieces. Utilizing a unique dual turbo setup, the ‘X’ was as easy to drive downtown or to a cruise in as any 11-second TR. However, if the 11 second TR were to line up at the track against the ‘X’, it would need at least a 2.5 second handicap – just to arrive at the finish line at the same time as the X.
“Let’s let the X stretch its legs tonight, Bill… whaddaysay? We haven’t had it out since the new tranny was put in down there at Rod’s shop other than to drive around a bit. Let’s go hunting tonight.”
Bill grinned widely.
“Have you heard about that black car over there close to Minora?” asked Bill. “Let’s head over there and see if we can find the guy.”
Steve thought for a moment. That DID sound awful tempting come to think of it. He had just talked to Dan a couple of days ago when Dan told him about the trouncing this “ANNIL8R” had put on his TR, inviting Steve to come see for himself.
“Ok, I’m game. Let’s head over there tonight. Maybe we can find the guy with that black car – a Mercury Dan said he thought it was – and see what’s what.”
Wiping off the filter wrench and placing it back on the pegboard, Bill chuckled. ANNIL8R? What kind of gay name is ANNIL8R, he thought to himself. Yeah, we’ll see about that come tonight…
We’ll just see about that, he chuckled. After tonight, the Merc guy (could it really be a Mercury? Who in God's name modded MERCURY'S these days?Sheesh! What is this world coming too?!) would need a new plate if THEY caught up with him – something like, say, uh - CORPSE.
Yeah, won’t THAT be funny? CORPSE
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha….
“Dan? Dan? What just happened?” asked Sally, still stunned by the loss to the Black Car.
Dan was quiet and contemplative, unsure himself, and not even really hearing Sally at all. To top it all off, he still wasn’t exactly sure what it was that just beat him in the shortest time he had ever been beaten – at the launch. Dan’s Buick was no slouch and was well respected among the car racing community, as was Dan himself. But this “ANNIL8R” car was something else – and it sounded like it was turbo’d but he couldn’t tell for sure. What did strike him especially odd was how the exhaust got louder just sitting at the light waiting to go. Apparently, the driver had some sort of remotely adjustable dump tube (or would that be ‘tubes’ since the car had to be a V8 in Dan’s opinion) and while Dan had heard of such an apparatus (the old GTO Judge from the late ‘60’s or early ‘70’s had it – but he couldn’t remember precisely the year), he had not seen one on a car in this area. Either way, there was no question that this was not some ordinary car. Or for that matter, no ordinary driver…
If Dan only knew…
*************************
”What do think that guy in the Buick is saying now?” asked the passenger in ANNIL8R.
“Oh, if I know Dan, and trust me – I DO know Dan – he’s puzzled like hell and can’t believe he just lost. He won’t take it sitting down either – he’ll be back looking for us sooner or later and with something up his sleeve too. But what HE doesn’t know is that I didn’t even show him everything tonight. Just a little ‘taste… yes… just a ‘taste’!”
Both of them laughed out loud at the innuendo, the black car rolling on into the night before circling around the city and heading back in on Rt. 47. Not much traffic out that way, so it was easy to slip back into the warehouse via the remote control door opener.
As the door rose, an eerie neon glow crept out from beneath it to expand onto the hood of the Black Car, giving it a devilish, greenish glow that seemed as if it radiated deeply from within the paint. Pulling on into the wide bay, the driver let the motor idle a moment or two, listening to the faint whistle of the turbo’s through the still-open exhaust. The gloved hand reached down and opened the console door, revealing a knob that looked like an old-style choke cable. Pushing the knob back downward towards the bottom of the console lengthened the cable, the steel actuator at the other end operating a scissors type pair of cables that pulled two 3.5” plates atop a Kevlar gasketed opening, closing the open dumps. Immediately, the car sounded like any other DOHC Mod motor with a twin Dynomax exhaust – quiet but intimidating. Even the whistle was subdued much more and barely noticeable. Just the way it was supposed to be.
The young female passenger jumped out of her side, her black skirt sliding up her thigh as she stepped from the door. The creamy skin caught the driver’s eye and a grin followed quickly…
“You like?” she asked.
A simple nod affirmed the response.
“Well, come with me and we’ll see what we can do about another ‘kill’ for you tonight”, she grinned, her blouse already unbuttoned revealing her ample cleavage as she headed towards the couch…
It was going to be one of ‘those’ nights thought the driver, peeling off the black driving gloves, holding the fine leather accessories close to smell them. Leather was something very special and the woman sitting on the couch - who was now wearing only a naughty smile and the tight, VERY short black leather skirt - had learned that long ago.
Their eyes were locked as the driver walked closer, the woman on the couch now revealing even more by parting her knees ever so slightly…
Yes indeed, it was going to be one of ‘those’ kind of nights…
*******************
The dream repeated itself often but usually with some slight changes… it might involve flying over a blind hill and the road going away with the driver in the car falling to what looked like certain death. Or, the driver may be in semi-darkness, hearing something (someone?) stalking him, close enough to ‘feel’ something brush close but then disappear… or whispers. Whispers that sounded deep and foreboding, threatening and intending harm but never quite revealing the source.
It always, always centered around fear. The kind of fear that could grip your spine and freeze you motionless. The kind of fear that you can feel to the pit of your stomach, like when your spouse says ‘We need to talk…’. The kind of fear that comes from a telephone ringing at 8 minutes after 3 am and you just know that the call is not good news.
He knew that fear – every night. Yet, he didn’t really know what drove that fear. He hadn’t told HER about his dreams, not wanting to really frighten her with the details. Sometimes, the dreams were similar but different; gory, bloody dreams but never really seeing the victim (victims?) or the killer. He could feel that that ‘predator’ was out there somewhere… just waiting for him to become hyper-fearful before it struck, letting him know that fear, unlike other emotions, is usually well founded and not something to ignore…
It was going to happen. Sooner or later, it was definitely going to happen…
*****************
The driver was awake before the woman who was now lying naked on the couch wrapped in the afghan. ANNIL8R’s hood was up and the driver was busy with an adjustment to the wastegates on the twin Turbonetics T76’s. ANNIL8R had a special mission later tonight and everything needed to be in good working order. Killing the white TR was easy – the next victim might prove a little more difficult…
The woman beneath the afghan heard the sounds of sockets ratcheting and began to stir.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked dreamily, stretching her sinuous arms upward and tilting her head back, her hair mussed up and looking even more beautiful than the night before.
“There’s a time to sleep – and a time to work,” said the driver. “Now, it is time to work…”
She got up off the divan and stood there still stretching.
“Well, I’m gonna grab a shower. Maybe we can do breakfast after?”
“Sure…” muttered the driver, the leather clad hands making the final adjustments.
She walked over to the car and stood looking over the driver’s right shoulder, admiring the 4.6 DOHC masterpiece. The modular motor is indeed a beautiful creation, hand assembled and signed by the workers who did so. Twin overhead cams controlling the valves that allow the intake air and fuel charge to enter or expel the exhaust outward through the headers. Where before there was a supercharger, now a large polished plenum resided, it’s opening hiding from view the polished and gaping throttle body inside. Enormous ductwork allowed the intercooled air charge to route itself into the T/B while the exhaust did the work of spinning the impellers that sucked the air inward in the first place. All the internals were essentially bullet proof. An electric water pump kept things cool with the stock water pump being used as an idler, its impeller removed. Twin coil packs (one on each side) sent the spark down 10 mm wires and through the plugs, igniting the fuel/air mixture. The dyno confirmed what the eye wanted to believe – this motor made serious, serious power. Not just horsepower, but torque - mountains and mountains of torque. Horsepower sells car – but torque wins races, and this was a lesson the driver learned long ago.
Torque that could move a house off its foundation… or, that would change lives forever. Watching the woman smile and turn, heading into the shower a thought crossed the driver’s mind – maybe she needed someone to wash her back?
Most definitely…
*******************
“Well, what are you going to do tonight?” asked his friend Bill. Steve and Bill could usually be found together when the weather was good – and usually up to no good themselves. Oh, nothing serious – just a lot of street racing. Steve owned the only GNX in the area and had bought it new. He had bought the car from a dealer in Ohio and had it hauled to his hometown, nearly 900 miles from the dealership, paying cash for his dream ticket. He had shopped around a long time before he saw the GNX, even looking seriously at a GN and a WE4 but not really sure if that was what he wanted. He had owned two GN’s before, one an ’86 (with the cool chrome strip above the grill) and an ’84 hot-air, both cars essentially stock save for some bolt-on’s.
Back then, the market for the Turbo Buick guys wasn’t nearly as developed as it is now but still he had no problem with 95% of the 5.0 guys he ran with. The only ones that were any threat at all were the ones nearly unstreetable so he didn’t sweat them.
But the ‘X’ was different. He had pulled the motor and tranny nearly 6 years ago (it had less than 16,000 miles on it) and stored it in his heated garage ever since in a dehumidified and temperature controlled room that was separate from the rest of the garage. Even that room was a story itself – it had a lot of high horsepower stuff in it, including an original 426 hemi from a wrecked ’71 Challenger he bought from a buddy just to have the motor. Most every kind of high performance engine was in that room somewhere.
But what he put back into the ‘X’ was even neater – a fully built Stage II motor, most of the work done by Duttweiller’s shop. Putting nearly a thousand horsepower to the rear wheels yet essentially completely streetable, it was one of Ken’s greatest masterpieces. Utilizing a unique dual turbo setup, the ‘X’ was as easy to drive downtown or to a cruise in as any 11-second TR. However, if the 11 second TR were to line up at the track against the ‘X’, it would need at least a 2.5 second handicap – just to arrive at the finish line at the same time as the X.
“Let’s let the X stretch its legs tonight, Bill… whaddaysay? We haven’t had it out since the new tranny was put in down there at Rod’s shop other than to drive around a bit. Let’s go hunting tonight.”
Bill grinned widely.
“Have you heard about that black car over there close to Minora?” asked Bill. “Let’s head over there and see if we can find the guy.”
Steve thought for a moment. That DID sound awful tempting come to think of it. He had just talked to Dan a couple of days ago when Dan told him about the trouncing this “ANNIL8R” had put on his TR, inviting Steve to come see for himself.
“Ok, I’m game. Let’s head over there tonight. Maybe we can find the guy with that black car – a Mercury Dan said he thought it was – and see what’s what.”
Wiping off the filter wrench and placing it back on the pegboard, Bill chuckled. ANNIL8R? What kind of gay name is ANNIL8R, he thought to himself. Yeah, we’ll see about that come tonight…
We’ll just see about that, he chuckled. After tonight, the Merc guy (could it really be a Mercury? Who in God's name modded MERCURY'S these days?Sheesh! What is this world coming too?!) would need a new plate if THEY caught up with him – something like, say, uh - CORPSE.
Yeah, won’t THAT be funny? CORPSE
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha….
Not too long I hope.
