Run Sheet
00/03/17
Last week a youngster told me about a 5.0 litre Mustang and called it "awesome" I could only laugh.
When I was twenty I did some really stupid stuff.
When I was twenty I bought a '74 Plymouth Fury. It was an ex-police car, man it was something. It was nondescript primer grey, it rode low and sweet, nothing flashy, but my god, would it go. People looking at it had no idea at all. It had a big-block 440 with dual 4-barrel Carter carbs under the hood. I guess it had been a freeway car as it wasn't any great shakes off the line, but jesus, I never found her top end. 140 was as fast as I ever had her, and she was still accelerating.
While I had her I guess I kept some of the major petroleum companies in business, she got almost no mileage, but when you're twenty, practicality should be the last concern.
My friend Hugh had a little Mazda. The two of us were pretty close, and he was one of my partners in idiocy.
Anyway,
One night we were lounging at the A&W on Fraser highway. At the time it sat at the edge of town, it was summer, it was late, we were bored, fearless and believed ourselves immortal. Rick Pillings was a mouthpiece, he was the kind of guy who would make fun of another's car, or clothes, or life. He was an insufferable know-it -all. We all wished he could be shown up for the loud-mouthed-schnook that he was.
"Hey Hugh" he said while we sat on the hood of the Mazda drinking Root Beer and wishing for a life to come along. "How fast will that little pisspot go?".
Hugh continued lounging under the mercury vapour lamps and said "Gee rick, I've never had her to the top end, so I couldn't rightly say"
Silence fell again, and we looked at the few headlights that passed on the highway, each of us wishing, privately wishing that a little bit of something would come along, if only just for awhile.
Every once in awhile an idea just jumps up and bites you on the ass. This was one of those instances. "I'll bet the Mazda's top end is about 120" I blurted out, the plan forming in my mind as I spoke, "And I'm willing to put 50 bucks on it. Either bet or shut up." Hugh looked at me like I had been hit on the head, but we were tight enough that he kept his mouth shut and let me go wherever I was going with it. Trusting fool that he was.
Rick nearly choked, "Holy SHIT! yeah, I'll for goddamn sure take your money!" he howled in glee. "Where and when!!"
It was nearly midnight, and it took some time to set things up.
It was agreed that we would do a speed run on the freeway. One of Ricks buddies would wait in the phone booth at the 200th Street onramp and phone ahead to the Tim Horton's payphone at the corner of Cassiar & Hastings, about 30 miles away. Roughly a half hour drive normally. By the agreed calculations, Hugh would have to make it in 15 to win the money.
We agreed that it would all take place in an hour at the onramp.
"What's the plan?" asked Hugh as we drove back to my place. Hugh's girlfriend was with us, she had never liked me much, I dunno why, but after this night she would like me even less. I just said "Trust me, wail down that onramp like a bat outta hell and it'll all work out"
Hugh dropped me off at home, and I set to work.
At the appointed time Hugh zipped by the phone booth and his little 4 cylinder shrieked in protest as he howled around the cloverleaf and onto the empty, late-night freeway. His girlfriend sat in the passenger seat getting bitchier by the minute. knowing that there was no way in hell this was going to work.
Hugh got his first clue that something
was up a mile down the freeway when highbeams flashed in his mirror and
a big, dark shape approached his car.
My grand Idea was pretty simple. an old tire was tied to the front of my
car. The big Plymouth eased up behind the little Mazda and gently nudged
it. Hugh looked up into his rear-view and waved, in went his clutch and
he shifted to neutral. As his rear bumper nestled with a bump into the
tire tied to my grille I pushed my right foot down.
My position offered me a unique vantage point. The glow of my headlights pushed against his trunk illuminated his girlfriend whipping around to see me there, grinning. As everything gelled in her mind, the look on her face was priceless. fear and fury mixed. She looked across the ten feet or so for a couple of heartbeats, her face spoke volumes to me
"You bastard, you're not really going to... oh shit.. you ARE!" was all relayed to me in a split-second as the howl rose and the secondaries kicked in.
The ride was pretty exciting if I do say so myself. There were a couple of very frightening moments as things, especially little Mazdas getting pushed by Plymouths, get a bit unstable at that speed.
13 Minutes, 18 seconds after we
entered the freeway I began to brake, the little Mazda sailed along happily,
its hundred-plus MPH momentum easily carried it to the corner as I parked
to let my car cool a bit and to cut the tire off the front. Ten minutes
later I walked into Horton's, ordered a hot chocolate, and held my hand
out to Rick Pillings. He paid up, snarling and swearing. Hugh's girlfriend
stayed in the car, silently, coldly furious.
How we lived through that night
I'll never know, God what a flock of idiots we were.
When you're Too young
Cars are never too fast
Music is never too loud
and it'll never
ever
be too late
~B