Nightsounds Part 14
“The Long Kiss Goodbye”
Dan’s fingers lightly drummed the console cover nervously and without him even thinking. It wasn’t that he worried about racing the Civic – rather he was more concerned with Sally’s quietness. He had only been married for less than 12 hours and now, she sat stone faced while he drove out of town, the headlights of the cars following sometimes reflecting in his mirror and illuminated the interior of the WE4. Which only showed Sally’s set jaw all the clearer…
She finally spoke.
“Dan, it’s not that I don’t want you to race or anything like that. But really – there IS something else I would rather be doing right now than heading out to race some rice mobile that you KNOW doesn’t have a chance.”
More silence. Dan knew precisely what she meant.
“I know honey. But this won’t take long and when it’s over, we’ll have a few extra bucks to blow so it will be worth it.” Dan half smiled, reaching over to touch Sally’s hand but not getting any response in return.
“Hmmm…” he thought, “ better let this go for a while.”
Finally, the dark red Civic slowed and turned down a dark road, weaving past a “Road Closed” sign on a path obviously well used. The path then opened up to a pretty much pristine 2-mile patch of abandoned 4-lane blacktop. The construction was stopped when state funds ran out and the federal boys refused to give the state anymore. The road was then set aside to be completed sometime in the future – over three years had passed and still no “future” date had been set. Which of course, was all the better for some of the local street racers.
Dan followed the Civic to a white line painted across the middle two lanes and pulled up on the right side of the import. The excited witnesses scurried down either side of the two, picking parking spots and turning their cars in, as was the norm to use their headlights as illumination on the ‘track’. The last car in was a ’68 Chevelle that no one paid any attention to. Its driver had chosen to stay back about 20 yards from the ‘start’ line, had pulled to the same side Dan was on and shut off his headlights, leaving the parking lamps on. The rumble from beneath its hood was ominous and throbbing, yet subdued. More than one person stopped to look in the direction of the Chevy, then just as quickly turned away. Everyone was out of their cars now, heading up to the front of the two racers where money was being counted and then held, signals being agreed upon, and more than a little trash talking being done by Roberto and his partner Pez.
Dan said nothing but his mind was now in race-mode, all thoughts about this night of Sally’s discontent being lost and washed over by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. If there was one thing Dan did well, it was focus. He not only wanted to beat these punks, he wanted to embarrass them.
Embarrass them a lot…
After agreeing to race in 15 minutes, which would allow the motors to cool somewhat, Dan reached inside the open driver’s window down along the kick panel and pulled hood release, which allowed more engine noise to escape. Walking back to the front of the car, he slid his hand beneath hood, released the safety catch and then pushed the hood on up to the fully open position. Using his flashlight, he then pulled the vacuum hose off the fuel pressure regulator and using the small crescent wrench and Allen wrench, he upped the static fuel pressure. After seeing the desired increase on the fuel pressure gauge, he then came back to the driver’s door, reached in and shut off the motor. Reaching in on back seat to retrieve a pair of gloves, he went back to the front of the car where Sally was now standing, arms crossed, and pulled the clip off of the adjustable waste gate control rod. Making the desired number of turns, he replaced the clip after wrestling the rod back onto the linkage, sure of the accuracy having done this enough before to know how much additional boost he could run with 103 octane fuel in the tank.
Sally spoke again as Dan stood upright in front of the engine compartment, various sounds of cooling metal being heard in the still night air. Behind them could be heard the voices of Pez and Roberto, sometimes in Spanish, as they went about the necessary pre-race adjustments to the V-Tec and its induction and fogger system. The bottle warmer was already on, pressure looked good… things were about to happen. Pez was adjusting the air pressure in the rears and having already checked the fronts for the proper pressure, the Civic was pretty much set.
An unusual characteristic of the Honda that Dan noticed at that moment, not seeing while at Woody’s was the huge exhaust pipe exiting in front of the passenger side rear tire. And no wing. If one were to just glance at the car, they would pretty much see that it had a very stock appearance – well, other than the huge exhaust pipe and the darkened window tint. The stance was definitely more aggressive and a tasteful ground effects package had been installed, including a much more radical front fascia with new driving/fog lights. Yet, it looked pretty stock. Dan hadn’t noticed much of an exhaust note so he wasn’t sure just how to gauge the competition. He just knew that he knew…
A leggy brunette who knew Sally from work that was riding with the guy in the Torino was holding the money, her boyfriend a good candidate for an NFL linebacker position due to his imposing build. Nobody was going to argue with him. He was also going to be the one to start the race, using Dan’s flashlight for a pseudo-Christmas tree, both participants agreeing to leave on the third blink of the Craftsman light.
Dan was leaning against the driver’s fender and Sally came around to his side, slowly nuzzling up next to him. She was still fuming over even being here in the first place, having more amorous ideas in mind, but she was being won over by the excitement. It wasn’t about the money to her at this point – she just wanted to see that cocky Latino have to eat his words. And something about the shifty eyes of his buddy – was that ‘Pez”? – that she definitely didn’t like. Maybe it was the way he was always pulling his hugely oversized and baggy pants back up, never missing a chance to grab himself while leering at her if he caught her eye. Nope – these two were definitely trouble.
Listening to the Pioneer in-dash CD playing “Life in the Fast Lane”, an old Eagles tune, the driver in the Chevelle lit another cigarette, having just snuffed out one minutes before. He watched intently as Dan and Sally were talking, feeling the pulses of each piston firing in the big block beneath the SS’s hood. He knew about Roberto and Pez – how they had only recently been paroled from a prison sentence brought about from a life of crime. Oh yeah… he knew Roberto all to well, having testified against him after seeing him and two others (one being Pez) nearly beat someone to death on a street corner. Had it not been for him pulling up and jumping out with his tire iron, the poor guy would have been dead in minutes. He was lucky enough to get the license plate and having seen the inverted cross tattoo on the one guy’s neck gave the cops enough to go on and get an arrest – eventually.
But his interest really was more in Sally. He licked his dry, cracked lips while seeing her flip her hair in the cool night air. He had been watching her a long time now, waiting for just the right time. He just couldn’t believe his good fortune in seeing her pull into Woody’s tonight. Oh yeah… tonight. Tonight will definitely be THE night…
He reached over and dropped the mammoth glove compartment door open, it’s tiny bulb glowing brightly in dark car. Wrapped in a shop towel, he could see the outline of the pistol and he knew it was loaded. It always was loaded… just waiting for the right moment…
And it wouldn’t be much longer. She was shut the hood as Dan slid into the seat of the Buick and then walked around to stand at the window.
“Good luck, honey” she winked at him. “Make me proud.”
Dan just smiled and nodded as he cinched up his helmet he kept on the rear floor of the car for moments just like this. He reached up and patted her hand on the door his eyes noticing her ample cleavage exposed from her leaning over and the shirt falling open, nothing on beneath it. Definitely some fine, fine eye candy he thought for just a moment.
“I’ll see ya in about 11 seconds – with some money for a trip to Victoria’s Secret”, he grinned. “And, you may want to button up – looks like you’re cold.”
She looked down. “Oh! I guess it IS a little chilly out here…” and she grinned devilishly back at him, turning and walking to the lane near where a Camaro had parked flooding the starting area with its headlights.
Jason walked to the front of the cars as Roberto was cinching up the five-point. Both drivers sat quietly, the motors still off.
“Start ‘em up, boys – I’ll give you about a minute to settle out and then watch the light, ok?” Jason explained as both drivers nodded. Immediately, clicks could be heard as keys turned in ignitions, rotating around to energize the starter solenoids in both cars, the LC2 firing just a second before the V-Tec. Still, to the rear of both cars, the rumble of the big-block Chevelle could be heard/felt, its driver not even noticing the starting procedure. His eyes were on Sally. Soon, it would be time…
“Bwa-BAAAA!… Bwa-BAAAA!” the V-Tec sounded angry, its exhaust note now very noticeable due to Pez opening the dump tube just as Dan had done. The race was less than 30 seconds away…
Dan reached over and checked the Scanmaster II, ensuring it was displaying the O2’s and KR. He knew the Lubrant Street/Strip chip he had in was good for what was about to happen, but he also knew that he gave the Boost Control Rod an extra half turn more than he usually did, not sure if he needed it or not. He was definitely going to be on the edge.
The steering wheel of the Buick felt warm in his hands, his eyes alternately scanning the boost gauge on the A-Pillar, the hood mounted fuel/oil pressure gauges, and temp gauge. The V-6 seemed impatient. He rolled up the power window with his thumb, his eyes not leaving the instruments. The A/C was off, the TC Switch thrown, his left foot solidly on the brake pedal, waiting for the moment to begin bringing up the boost.
From outside the car, Sally watched and listened, oblivious to everything else… even the Chevelle idling a mere 25 feet away. She saw the body of the Civic yaw slightly with each time Roberto revved its motor. No, that obviously wasn’t not just an out-of-chassis V-6 in there. She saw him purge the NOS system with vertical plumes of vapor exiting from just in front of the wipers, somewhere out of the cowl. And, she heard the metallic click of a transbrake she thought. Since when did they start making a transbrake for a Honda Tranny, she wondered?
Jason brought the flashlight up to eye level for the drivers and turned it on. Immediately, things began to happen quickly. Dan pulled the T-bar shifter to D and pressing hard against the brake pedal, he began to bring up the rpms in the Buick. The torque made the car raise itself against the brakes holding it back and a whistle (shriek?) that at first was barely audible then grew to an eerie howl, was heard.
In the left lane, Roberto was bringing up the rpms of the Honda up against the transbrake – the tranny actually a completely reworked and highly modified unit custom built for this application. And although the V-6 beneath its hood had a V-Tech shield above it’s intake area, it wasn’t even close to stock. Stroked, bored, balanced, blueprinted, with forged internals, huge mains, a dry sump system, and delivering nearly 480 horsepower to the rear wheels via a Currie Enterprises Ford 9” third-member, the motor was doing its best to brake the transbrake loose of its hold it had on the rapidly rising torque. But it held…
Jason blinked the light the first time.
Dan’s eyes watched the boost gauge intently now. 2psi… 3psi…4psi… the shriek of the turbo now heard above everything else, the motor twisting against the motor mounts, the rear of the car trying to torque itself up over the tires planted firmly against the cool tarmac. Neither driver did a burnout, both agreeing to run as they sat other than air pressure adjustments.
Roberto flipped open the laptop on the passenger seat, it’s display showing the fuel map and diagnostic system for the engine, the light an eerie greenish/blue glow that matched the neon light system he had flipped on just a second before. He energized the multi-stage NOS system switches; arming the backup/kill switches which would protect the motor from being sprayed if an over-rev occurred or if anything less than full throttle and preset fuel pressure values were not met. It was actually a modded TNT Nitrous system, one of the best of the best.
<Blink 2>
4psi… 5psi… Dan’s eyes watched the increase coming up just as he wanted, the flashlight squarely in his peripheral vision.
Roberto grinned. Regardless his lifestyle, he knew how to street race. And he knew this car well….
One blink to go…
To be continued…
I had to end it here due to length limitations. I’ll post the rest later this evening.
Raven
“The Long Kiss Goodbye”
Dan’s fingers lightly drummed the console cover nervously and without him even thinking. It wasn’t that he worried about racing the Civic – rather he was more concerned with Sally’s quietness. He had only been married for less than 12 hours and now, she sat stone faced while he drove out of town, the headlights of the cars following sometimes reflecting in his mirror and illuminated the interior of the WE4. Which only showed Sally’s set jaw all the clearer…
She finally spoke.
“Dan, it’s not that I don’t want you to race or anything like that. But really – there IS something else I would rather be doing right now than heading out to race some rice mobile that you KNOW doesn’t have a chance.”
More silence. Dan knew precisely what she meant.
“I know honey. But this won’t take long and when it’s over, we’ll have a few extra bucks to blow so it will be worth it.” Dan half smiled, reaching over to touch Sally’s hand but not getting any response in return.
“Hmmm…” he thought, “ better let this go for a while.”
Finally, the dark red Civic slowed and turned down a dark road, weaving past a “Road Closed” sign on a path obviously well used. The path then opened up to a pretty much pristine 2-mile patch of abandoned 4-lane blacktop. The construction was stopped when state funds ran out and the federal boys refused to give the state anymore. The road was then set aside to be completed sometime in the future – over three years had passed and still no “future” date had been set. Which of course, was all the better for some of the local street racers.
Dan followed the Civic to a white line painted across the middle two lanes and pulled up on the right side of the import. The excited witnesses scurried down either side of the two, picking parking spots and turning their cars in, as was the norm to use their headlights as illumination on the ‘track’. The last car in was a ’68 Chevelle that no one paid any attention to. Its driver had chosen to stay back about 20 yards from the ‘start’ line, had pulled to the same side Dan was on and shut off his headlights, leaving the parking lamps on. The rumble from beneath its hood was ominous and throbbing, yet subdued. More than one person stopped to look in the direction of the Chevy, then just as quickly turned away. Everyone was out of their cars now, heading up to the front of the two racers where money was being counted and then held, signals being agreed upon, and more than a little trash talking being done by Roberto and his partner Pez.
Dan said nothing but his mind was now in race-mode, all thoughts about this night of Sally’s discontent being lost and washed over by the adrenaline coursing through his veins. If there was one thing Dan did well, it was focus. He not only wanted to beat these punks, he wanted to embarrass them.
Embarrass them a lot…
After agreeing to race in 15 minutes, which would allow the motors to cool somewhat, Dan reached inside the open driver’s window down along the kick panel and pulled hood release, which allowed more engine noise to escape. Walking back to the front of the car, he slid his hand beneath hood, released the safety catch and then pushed the hood on up to the fully open position. Using his flashlight, he then pulled the vacuum hose off the fuel pressure regulator and using the small crescent wrench and Allen wrench, he upped the static fuel pressure. After seeing the desired increase on the fuel pressure gauge, he then came back to the driver’s door, reached in and shut off the motor. Reaching in on back seat to retrieve a pair of gloves, he went back to the front of the car where Sally was now standing, arms crossed, and pulled the clip off of the adjustable waste gate control rod. Making the desired number of turns, he replaced the clip after wrestling the rod back onto the linkage, sure of the accuracy having done this enough before to know how much additional boost he could run with 103 octane fuel in the tank.
Sally spoke again as Dan stood upright in front of the engine compartment, various sounds of cooling metal being heard in the still night air. Behind them could be heard the voices of Pez and Roberto, sometimes in Spanish, as they went about the necessary pre-race adjustments to the V-Tec and its induction and fogger system. The bottle warmer was already on, pressure looked good… things were about to happen. Pez was adjusting the air pressure in the rears and having already checked the fronts for the proper pressure, the Civic was pretty much set.
An unusual characteristic of the Honda that Dan noticed at that moment, not seeing while at Woody’s was the huge exhaust pipe exiting in front of the passenger side rear tire. And no wing. If one were to just glance at the car, they would pretty much see that it had a very stock appearance – well, other than the huge exhaust pipe and the darkened window tint. The stance was definitely more aggressive and a tasteful ground effects package had been installed, including a much more radical front fascia with new driving/fog lights. Yet, it looked pretty stock. Dan hadn’t noticed much of an exhaust note so he wasn’t sure just how to gauge the competition. He just knew that he knew…
A leggy brunette who knew Sally from work that was riding with the guy in the Torino was holding the money, her boyfriend a good candidate for an NFL linebacker position due to his imposing build. Nobody was going to argue with him. He was also going to be the one to start the race, using Dan’s flashlight for a pseudo-Christmas tree, both participants agreeing to leave on the third blink of the Craftsman light.
Dan was leaning against the driver’s fender and Sally came around to his side, slowly nuzzling up next to him. She was still fuming over even being here in the first place, having more amorous ideas in mind, but she was being won over by the excitement. It wasn’t about the money to her at this point – she just wanted to see that cocky Latino have to eat his words. And something about the shifty eyes of his buddy – was that ‘Pez”? – that she definitely didn’t like. Maybe it was the way he was always pulling his hugely oversized and baggy pants back up, never missing a chance to grab himself while leering at her if he caught her eye. Nope – these two were definitely trouble.
Listening to the Pioneer in-dash CD playing “Life in the Fast Lane”, an old Eagles tune, the driver in the Chevelle lit another cigarette, having just snuffed out one minutes before. He watched intently as Dan and Sally were talking, feeling the pulses of each piston firing in the big block beneath the SS’s hood. He knew about Roberto and Pez – how they had only recently been paroled from a prison sentence brought about from a life of crime. Oh yeah… he knew Roberto all to well, having testified against him after seeing him and two others (one being Pez) nearly beat someone to death on a street corner. Had it not been for him pulling up and jumping out with his tire iron, the poor guy would have been dead in minutes. He was lucky enough to get the license plate and having seen the inverted cross tattoo on the one guy’s neck gave the cops enough to go on and get an arrest – eventually.
But his interest really was more in Sally. He licked his dry, cracked lips while seeing her flip her hair in the cool night air. He had been watching her a long time now, waiting for just the right time. He just couldn’t believe his good fortune in seeing her pull into Woody’s tonight. Oh yeah… tonight. Tonight will definitely be THE night…
He reached over and dropped the mammoth glove compartment door open, it’s tiny bulb glowing brightly in dark car. Wrapped in a shop towel, he could see the outline of the pistol and he knew it was loaded. It always was loaded… just waiting for the right moment…
And it wouldn’t be much longer. She was shut the hood as Dan slid into the seat of the Buick and then walked around to stand at the window.
“Good luck, honey” she winked at him. “Make me proud.”
Dan just smiled and nodded as he cinched up his helmet he kept on the rear floor of the car for moments just like this. He reached up and patted her hand on the door his eyes noticing her ample cleavage exposed from her leaning over and the shirt falling open, nothing on beneath it. Definitely some fine, fine eye candy he thought for just a moment.
“I’ll see ya in about 11 seconds – with some money for a trip to Victoria’s Secret”, he grinned. “And, you may want to button up – looks like you’re cold.”
She looked down. “Oh! I guess it IS a little chilly out here…” and she grinned devilishly back at him, turning and walking to the lane near where a Camaro had parked flooding the starting area with its headlights.
Jason walked to the front of the cars as Roberto was cinching up the five-point. Both drivers sat quietly, the motors still off.
“Start ‘em up, boys – I’ll give you about a minute to settle out and then watch the light, ok?” Jason explained as both drivers nodded. Immediately, clicks could be heard as keys turned in ignitions, rotating around to energize the starter solenoids in both cars, the LC2 firing just a second before the V-Tec. Still, to the rear of both cars, the rumble of the big-block Chevelle could be heard/felt, its driver not even noticing the starting procedure. His eyes were on Sally. Soon, it would be time…
“Bwa-BAAAA!… Bwa-BAAAA!” the V-Tec sounded angry, its exhaust note now very noticeable due to Pez opening the dump tube just as Dan had done. The race was less than 30 seconds away…
Dan reached over and checked the Scanmaster II, ensuring it was displaying the O2’s and KR. He knew the Lubrant Street/Strip chip he had in was good for what was about to happen, but he also knew that he gave the Boost Control Rod an extra half turn more than he usually did, not sure if he needed it or not. He was definitely going to be on the edge.
The steering wheel of the Buick felt warm in his hands, his eyes alternately scanning the boost gauge on the A-Pillar, the hood mounted fuel/oil pressure gauges, and temp gauge. The V-6 seemed impatient. He rolled up the power window with his thumb, his eyes not leaving the instruments. The A/C was off, the TC Switch thrown, his left foot solidly on the brake pedal, waiting for the moment to begin bringing up the boost.
From outside the car, Sally watched and listened, oblivious to everything else… even the Chevelle idling a mere 25 feet away. She saw the body of the Civic yaw slightly with each time Roberto revved its motor. No, that obviously wasn’t not just an out-of-chassis V-6 in there. She saw him purge the NOS system with vertical plumes of vapor exiting from just in front of the wipers, somewhere out of the cowl. And, she heard the metallic click of a transbrake she thought. Since when did they start making a transbrake for a Honda Tranny, she wondered?
Jason brought the flashlight up to eye level for the drivers and turned it on. Immediately, things began to happen quickly. Dan pulled the T-bar shifter to D and pressing hard against the brake pedal, he began to bring up the rpms in the Buick. The torque made the car raise itself against the brakes holding it back and a whistle (shriek?) that at first was barely audible then grew to an eerie howl, was heard.
In the left lane, Roberto was bringing up the rpms of the Honda up against the transbrake – the tranny actually a completely reworked and highly modified unit custom built for this application. And although the V-6 beneath its hood had a V-Tech shield above it’s intake area, it wasn’t even close to stock. Stroked, bored, balanced, blueprinted, with forged internals, huge mains, a dry sump system, and delivering nearly 480 horsepower to the rear wheels via a Currie Enterprises Ford 9” third-member, the motor was doing its best to brake the transbrake loose of its hold it had on the rapidly rising torque. But it held…
Jason blinked the light the first time.
Dan’s eyes watched the boost gauge intently now. 2psi… 3psi…4psi… the shriek of the turbo now heard above everything else, the motor twisting against the motor mounts, the rear of the car trying to torque itself up over the tires planted firmly against the cool tarmac. Neither driver did a burnout, both agreeing to run as they sat other than air pressure adjustments.
Roberto flipped open the laptop on the passenger seat, it’s display showing the fuel map and diagnostic system for the engine, the light an eerie greenish/blue glow that matched the neon light system he had flipped on just a second before. He energized the multi-stage NOS system switches; arming the backup/kill switches which would protect the motor from being sprayed if an over-rev occurred or if anything less than full throttle and preset fuel pressure values were not met. It was actually a modded TNT Nitrous system, one of the best of the best.
<Blink 2>
4psi… 5psi… Dan’s eyes watched the increase coming up just as he wanted, the flashlight squarely in his peripheral vision.
Roberto grinned. Regardless his lifestyle, he knew how to street race. And he knew this car well….
One blink to go…
To be continued…
I had to end it here due to length limitations. I’ll post the rest later this evening.
Raven
