I have always been a gearhead. I got it honest from my father. I can remember my dad sharing stories of all the cars he used to own and how fast they were. Stories of this GTO, or this camaro or corvette pulling the wheels on the street. As a boy I remember his tales of street racing like they were epic battles between him and the bad guys, my father always being the hero. He never told me he won them all. When he would admit his defeats on the street, his would always share why he lost and how amazing the winning car was.
As a young man I got the go fast bug early on, it is chronic and will be an ailment I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. My wallet could not finance my go fast dreams, and dad insisted I buy my first car on my own. Said I would appreciate it more, which I did not really understand at the time. I finally saved up enough to get my first ride: a Chevrolet Chevette. I thought I was improving it by putting tint, louvers, rims and wheels, pinstriping and a CB radio. If a ricer existed in the 80's I guess I was it.
One day my Dad came home while I was doing a burnout in the driveway in front of some friends. Yes it can be done, just put the spare tire on there and pop the clutch, nice smokey show. I thought I was in deep doo-doo, but he simply walked up to the driver's side window and said "Do you really wan't to make this thing fast?" I just nodded my head up and down.
Over the course of that winter we put a 327 SBC in that little car and an M-22 gearbox. I later learned that was the proverbial "Rock Crusher" transmission I had heard about as a kid. I can still remember how scary fast that car was. I never took it to the track, but know that it dusted every car in my hometown I lined up against.
I never got a chance to race my father in that car. I ended up hitting a deer in it and parting it out.
I left home at 18 and always had practical cars, things that made sense. I had some sports cars but nothing I would ever consider racing my Dad in. I never really had the money for building a purpose driven car. Family came along and priorities changed as I got older. Pretty much how my life went until two years ago.
I came across a nice 1987 Buick GN that had already had a few mods done to it. Nothing major, but it needed a rebuild. I had always wanted one, and had a little extra cash in the bank, if there really is such a thing. I decided to buy it. After I got it, I called Pops up and told him I had a car that would give him a good run for his money. He simply stated, "Son, I'll spank you like 6 years old again" I got a chuckle out of that, but told him I would let him know when it was ready.
Well I got the engine rebuilt and got the car running last fall. Our schedules never worked out, until just a couple weeks ago. We had been talking about this race for quite some time. Our whole family knew about it, my friends, his friends alot of hooplah was being built up about it. My wife even had some people asking her when the race was gonna be? She just shook her head and told them how silly she thought the whole thing was.
My car:
109 30 over
stock crank std/std
forged pistons
218/218 roller cam
GN1 heads
GN1 intake
70 mm TB and plenum
Precision FMIC
67 turbo
MT ET Streets 28"
Dad's car:
1989 Camaro Iroc-Z
350-60 over
150 shot nitrous
Long tube headers
TPI Foil
Rebuilt to the gills as he puts it. Cams/ Head work
Aftermarket Chip
Reprogrammed?
It isn't a monster but it hooks very well on the street. Slicks
There is alot more done to the car that I can't recall.
I knew this was gonna be a one sided event, but I was still nervous about the whole thing. We decided to do without having an "event" set up and kept the race to ourselves. We didn't wan't anything videotaped.
I went to my Dad's the day of the race and we agreed the loser would have to wash the winner's car. There is a long straight stretch on my Dad's road we lined up on. It is a spot we both know well and he used to race on quite a bit as a youngster. The length we agreed to was around a 1/4 mile, not measured by any precision equipment but I think it's just over 1320. The finish line was marked by the end of a fence row.
My heart was beating soo fast, my hands were shaking, seemed like everything was happening so fast and the race hadn't even started yet. I don't ever remember being so nervous before a race.
I wanted to beat my Dad. I don't know if it was to prove my worth as a gear head in his eyes. To say "Hey I told you I have a fast car". To get the recognition that I know what I am doing with this box with 4 wheels. Whatever you wan't to call it, I know I didn't wan't to get embarrassed.
At the same time a little part of me didn't wan't to beat him either. My dad is getting into his 60's now. He is about to retire and he is already complaining about it. I didn't wan't to make him feel like the Gear Head chapter of his life was coming to a close. A true dillemma. I couldn't back out either as he was pestering me about it, asking when we were gonna race almost every time we talked. One more chance for him to show me that wisdom and treachery will always beat youth and strength.
We prepped the spot with a few burnouts. I jumped out to check tire pressure, everything was good. His car sounded stronger than I ever remember it, much louder too. I figuired the old man still had a few tricks up his sleeve. I didn't know what he had done to the car and decided not to hold back as it sounded just plain rowdy now.
We line up and decided to go on the 3rd honk. I told him I needed to build boost first and would nod when I was ready for him to honk.
I pushed the brake pedal as far down as I can and start to build boost. Not sure at what point I gave him the nod but I think it was around 1-2 pounds. This is a "green" road and won't hold that much at the launch. I heard the first honk, thinking "Oh s**t, here we go!". 2nd honk, "I wonder if he is gonna space them out or hit it early". 3rd Honk....
He got me, he honked early. He was already moving by the time I even started to lift my foot off the brake. He jumped to an early lead right out of the hole. Seems he didn't even spin the tires at all and was 1-2 car lengths ahead before I started any forward progress at all.
My DR's hooked surprisingly well. I was expecting a little wheel spin at first, but they held so I floored it. I got a little tirespin at the top of first gear, but not enough to lift. At the 1-2 shift he was 2 car lengths ahead.
2nd came on strong and I started to reel him in. Just when I think I am gonna catch him and beat him soundly. I hear the nitrous hit. He hadn't even been on the spray yet! Oh I am screwed! At the end of second gear I am at his rear bumper.
We pretty much stayed even until after the 2-3 shift. Once third caught I could tell the torque convertor was locked. I creep up, inch by inch. I don't think I will have enough to beat him. The fence row only lasts 300 feet or so, at the beginning of the fence I was at his door.
I knew it was gonna be close, my leg suddenly hurts from pushing down on the gas pedal so hard. My teeth were clenched, I look down at the speedo it is pegged, I see my knuckles are as white as can be. I look up to see the boost gauge at 25 psi and that turbo is just singing to me. The end of the fence row approaches so quickly, the other fence posts are all a blur except for the last one. I can't take my eyes off of it. It is coming up on my left and I can still see my knock gauge in the green. My car was holding straight, had to be revving at over 6000 rpm. I am not sure if I wasn't holding my breath. I car hear that 350?? screaming, has to be way over 6500 rpms.
As I am about 20 feet or so from the last fencepost I look over to my right to see where the front end of that blue camaro is. I don't see it? As I twisted my head further back to see it, I passed the last fence post. I start to breath again, heart pounding against the inside of my chest. Waiting for my pulse to slow, while I slow this black buick down. Seemed like at least 5-8 seconds of good brake pressure before the needle started moving back down again. I ended up winning by a half car.
My Dad got in behind me and we drove to the end of the road, 2 miles or so to a gas station where the road ends, back in town. I keep looking for some sort of a reaction out of him in the rearview mirror, but I can't help but smile. It was more like a huge grin.
We stop at the gas station and I am out before he can even cut it off. I approached his door with a big smile on my face. I didn't know what to expect from him, but his smile was bigger. I can't post everything he said but I think you get the idea.
G** Da** son!, that thing is fast.
You passed me like I dropped an anchor.
I can not believe that is a 6 cylinder.
Son of * ***** I don't mind losing to a car that fast.
I didn't make him wash my car, but I couldn't get over how proud he was of me and my car. Every time I am around him now and I have the car, he makes me take him for a ride. I have aked him if he wants to drive several times but he always refuses. Anytime his friends are around and I am there, he is always telling them how fast my car is.
All in all it was great to race him, he took the defeat much better than I thought he would. BTW he swapped out that meager 350 for a 406.
Sorry for the long post but it was a very memorable experience for me. Hope you enjoyed it too.
As a young man I got the go fast bug early on, it is chronic and will be an ailment I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. My wallet could not finance my go fast dreams, and dad insisted I buy my first car on my own. Said I would appreciate it more, which I did not really understand at the time. I finally saved up enough to get my first ride: a Chevrolet Chevette. I thought I was improving it by putting tint, louvers, rims and wheels, pinstriping and a CB radio. If a ricer existed in the 80's I guess I was it.
One day my Dad came home while I was doing a burnout in the driveway in front of some friends. Yes it can be done, just put the spare tire on there and pop the clutch, nice smokey show. I thought I was in deep doo-doo, but he simply walked up to the driver's side window and said "Do you really wan't to make this thing fast?" I just nodded my head up and down.
Over the course of that winter we put a 327 SBC in that little car and an M-22 gearbox. I later learned that was the proverbial "Rock Crusher" transmission I had heard about as a kid. I can still remember how scary fast that car was. I never took it to the track, but know that it dusted every car in my hometown I lined up against.
I never got a chance to race my father in that car. I ended up hitting a deer in it and parting it out.
I left home at 18 and always had practical cars, things that made sense. I had some sports cars but nothing I would ever consider racing my Dad in. I never really had the money for building a purpose driven car. Family came along and priorities changed as I got older. Pretty much how my life went until two years ago.
I came across a nice 1987 Buick GN that had already had a few mods done to it. Nothing major, but it needed a rebuild. I had always wanted one, and had a little extra cash in the bank, if there really is such a thing. I decided to buy it. After I got it, I called Pops up and told him I had a car that would give him a good run for his money. He simply stated, "Son, I'll spank you like 6 years old again" I got a chuckle out of that, but told him I would let him know when it was ready.
Well I got the engine rebuilt and got the car running last fall. Our schedules never worked out, until just a couple weeks ago. We had been talking about this race for quite some time. Our whole family knew about it, my friends, his friends alot of hooplah was being built up about it. My wife even had some people asking her when the race was gonna be? She just shook her head and told them how silly she thought the whole thing was.
My car:
109 30 over
stock crank std/std
forged pistons
218/218 roller cam
GN1 heads
GN1 intake
70 mm TB and plenum
Precision FMIC
67 turbo
MT ET Streets 28"
Dad's car:
1989 Camaro Iroc-Z
350-60 over
150 shot nitrous
Long tube headers
TPI Foil
Rebuilt to the gills as he puts it. Cams/ Head work
Aftermarket Chip
Reprogrammed?
It isn't a monster but it hooks very well on the street. Slicks
There is alot more done to the car that I can't recall.
I knew this was gonna be a one sided event, but I was still nervous about the whole thing. We decided to do without having an "event" set up and kept the race to ourselves. We didn't wan't anything videotaped.
I went to my Dad's the day of the race and we agreed the loser would have to wash the winner's car. There is a long straight stretch on my Dad's road we lined up on. It is a spot we both know well and he used to race on quite a bit as a youngster. The length we agreed to was around a 1/4 mile, not measured by any precision equipment but I think it's just over 1320. The finish line was marked by the end of a fence row.
My heart was beating soo fast, my hands were shaking, seemed like everything was happening so fast and the race hadn't even started yet. I don't ever remember being so nervous before a race.
I wanted to beat my Dad. I don't know if it was to prove my worth as a gear head in his eyes. To say "Hey I told you I have a fast car". To get the recognition that I know what I am doing with this box with 4 wheels. Whatever you wan't to call it, I know I didn't wan't to get embarrassed.
At the same time a little part of me didn't wan't to beat him either. My dad is getting into his 60's now. He is about to retire and he is already complaining about it. I didn't wan't to make him feel like the Gear Head chapter of his life was coming to a close. A true dillemma. I couldn't back out either as he was pestering me about it, asking when we were gonna race almost every time we talked. One more chance for him to show me that wisdom and treachery will always beat youth and strength.
We prepped the spot with a few burnouts. I jumped out to check tire pressure, everything was good. His car sounded stronger than I ever remember it, much louder too. I figuired the old man still had a few tricks up his sleeve. I didn't know what he had done to the car and decided not to hold back as it sounded just plain rowdy now.
We line up and decided to go on the 3rd honk. I told him I needed to build boost first and would nod when I was ready for him to honk.
I pushed the brake pedal as far down as I can and start to build boost. Not sure at what point I gave him the nod but I think it was around 1-2 pounds. This is a "green" road and won't hold that much at the launch. I heard the first honk, thinking "Oh s**t, here we go!". 2nd honk, "I wonder if he is gonna space them out or hit it early". 3rd Honk....
He got me, he honked early. He was already moving by the time I even started to lift my foot off the brake. He jumped to an early lead right out of the hole. Seems he didn't even spin the tires at all and was 1-2 car lengths ahead before I started any forward progress at all.
My DR's hooked surprisingly well. I was expecting a little wheel spin at first, but they held so I floored it. I got a little tirespin at the top of first gear, but not enough to lift. At the 1-2 shift he was 2 car lengths ahead.
2nd came on strong and I started to reel him in. Just when I think I am gonna catch him and beat him soundly. I hear the nitrous hit. He hadn't even been on the spray yet! Oh I am screwed! At the end of second gear I am at his rear bumper.
We pretty much stayed even until after the 2-3 shift. Once third caught I could tell the torque convertor was locked. I creep up, inch by inch. I don't think I will have enough to beat him. The fence row only lasts 300 feet or so, at the beginning of the fence I was at his door.
I knew it was gonna be close, my leg suddenly hurts from pushing down on the gas pedal so hard. My teeth were clenched, I look down at the speedo it is pegged, I see my knuckles are as white as can be. I look up to see the boost gauge at 25 psi and that turbo is just singing to me. The end of the fence row approaches so quickly, the other fence posts are all a blur except for the last one. I can't take my eyes off of it. It is coming up on my left and I can still see my knock gauge in the green. My car was holding straight, had to be revving at over 6000 rpm. I am not sure if I wasn't holding my breath. I car hear that 350?? screaming, has to be way over 6500 rpms.
As I am about 20 feet or so from the last fencepost I look over to my right to see where the front end of that blue camaro is. I don't see it? As I twisted my head further back to see it, I passed the last fence post. I start to breath again, heart pounding against the inside of my chest. Waiting for my pulse to slow, while I slow this black buick down. Seemed like at least 5-8 seconds of good brake pressure before the needle started moving back down again. I ended up winning by a half car.
My Dad got in behind me and we drove to the end of the road, 2 miles or so to a gas station where the road ends, back in town. I keep looking for some sort of a reaction out of him in the rearview mirror, but I can't help but smile. It was more like a huge grin.
We stop at the gas station and I am out before he can even cut it off. I approached his door with a big smile on my face. I didn't know what to expect from him, but his smile was bigger. I can't post everything he said but I think you get the idea.
G** Da** son!, that thing is fast.
You passed me like I dropped an anchor.
I can not believe that is a 6 cylinder.
Son of * ***** I don't mind losing to a car that fast.
I didn't make him wash my car, but I couldn't get over how proud he was of me and my car. Every time I am around him now and I have the car, he makes me take him for a ride. I have aked him if he wants to drive several times but he always refuses. Anytime his friends are around and I am there, he is always telling them how fast my car is.
All in all it was great to race him, he took the defeat much better than I thought he would. BTW he swapped out that meager 350 for a 406.
Sorry for the long post but it was a very memorable experience for me. Hope you enjoyed it too.
