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Mini-Ed Story Time (with a question I've always wondered and hope someone can answer
for me here):
As many years as I've been playing with these critters, I know a LOT of you guys are far more
knowledgeable than I at such things as how gears make cars behave...
Here we go:
There was an instance one time, in the wee hours back in the early 80's....that I simply can't explain.
I hope someone can here now.
The scene:
My friend in his all original Challenger T/A and me in my '68 Super Bee (that was decidedly NOT all
original), headed up the highway to a NeHOA meet in Syracuse NY in springtime.
My Bee had a 440, quite tame and worn, short of the usual headers, Holley and a bit of a purpleshaft
in it, 18 spline and 3.91 SG 8 3/4 rear - and some rather loud-assed cherry bombs.
The car was obnoxious (like I liked 'em in those days) but far from a speed demon - it was just an
old car really.
Anyways - back to that night:
We'd both been driving several hours since northern VA that night, trying to beat traffic through urban places
and such (we'd figured out nighttime travel was best to get to big shows) - and we're
both getting a bit antsy, in need stopping for leg-stretching and of course - gas.
Then, after hours of drowsy driving and in the middle of somewhere south of Syracuse, ol' Tom decides
it's time to get a bit silly....
In my road haze, I suddenly hear that T/A open up about the time he buzzes by me at about 90.
That admittedly wakes me up a bit from the road hypno I was under - so in kind, I decide to return the favor
and blast by him at 100 or so.
(Man, the crap we used to pull on public roads in our youth, I swear...)
Of course, he answers with a 110 pass of his own and I'm thinking "my car tops out at 115 and I'm
a long way - both distance and money-wise - from home here."
Ah, the heck with it... (sort of like todays' phrase of "hold my beer") ... I tell my passenger buddy to hang on,
that something, good or bad, is about to happen.
I then proceed to pass Tom, the Bee floored, and the car dutifully does its' 115 and says "that's all I got"...
My buddy Tom also knows that's all the Bee has, so he figures he'll roll by at 120 and that'll be that.
That would have normally been the end of it....but noooo:
Tom then gives me one of those smug ****-eating grins as he goes by...
Oh, hell no he didn't! Yeah, yeah he did, the little ****...
Well, that did it. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction, not this time.
Irked at his cockiness, I decided to push things a bit, potential carnage be damned.
So....I run the car back up to its' "limit" and it starts doing that weird vibration it did at top speed
(never knew what that was, guessing driveshaft balance or some such?) and it hit its' usual "wall"...
except this time, 115 wasn't going to be good enough.
Hell, I even lifted momentarily, then slammed the pedal right back down with emphasis, barking at the Bee
to go faster and probably bending throttle stuff in the process.
She shook, she resisted, she got quiet a moment - then suddenly, she practically lept forward with some sort
of other-worldly added vigor and took off!
My mind, shocked at first at what was going on, frantically scanned gauges...
Speedo clicked past 120...125....130....135...140. Holy ****!
It was really weird - like we'd entered another dimension or something...
All the vibration was gone; the thing felt like something freed up in the driveline and she got all
smooth and URGENT...and all this was happening on a strange deserted interstate far from home
at 5am!
With a panicked glance at the Super Tach II, which I could only catch a glimpse of (but I think it
said "north of 6 grand - you're gonna BLOW THIS THING UP!" or something to that effect...), it
took a second for me to digest what was going on.
Keep in mind, that old car had never been anywhere NEAR such speeds. Heck, it ate oil at a quart
per tank in those days. I'm saying, it was a tired old 440....
but that raggedy old 440 had lept into some sort of time warp and as quickly as it had happened, I was out
of the throttle and steering white-knuckled, trying like hell to keep her straight with worn suspension and
air shocks and all that.
"Woah, big girl....please woah.....for the love of GOD, PLEASE woah...."
Quite entertaining, trying to pilot that ancient thing back down....
After a bit, adrenalin began to settle in both myself and the car - and the next exit thankfully had an open gas
station with suddenly VERY important restrooms.
I managed to exit, then get the car stopped at the deserted pumps and got it started filling up the now-empty tank.
When Tom finally comes rolling in, slowly - his eyes big as saucers - he's incredulous at what he's just witnessed.
I just hold up my index finger as if to say "gimme a minute" and practically run to the bathroom.
Later, sitting on the curb of the gas station and guzzling some cola (probably Jolt cola in those days?), I was able to discuss
what had occurred with Tom - but I couldn't quite explain it.
I didn't believe what the speedo and tach had told me, but he shook his head and said "you were definitely well over 130
because I couldn't keep up after that - what did you do to that thing?"
Not a dang thing, Tom. Honest....
"Damndest thing I've ever seen...." he says...and I never did that again, instead babying and taking the best care of the car
I could, sort of hoping it didn't punish me for what I'd done to it as well as rewarding it.
Now....that story told, I've never been able to explain what happened that night.
How in the hell did that old 440 spin that fast and not grenade? Hell, how did the admittedly geriatric original chassis car
not shake to pieces? How the heck did it do all that with 3.91 gears and no overdrive?
Beats hell out of me....but I tell you what:
I still remember it vividly to this day, 40+ years later.
Oh, I suppose I could give you a pic of the two cars in question, so here:
Tom's still got his T/A. I foolishly sold the Bee sometime later to buy another, more original one....
Wish like hell I could get it back, of course. No idea where the car is (or even if it still exists).
Well, there ya go. Experts, let me have it!
for me here):
As many years as I've been playing with these critters, I know a LOT of you guys are far more
knowledgeable than I at such things as how gears make cars behave...
Here we go:
There was an instance one time, in the wee hours back in the early 80's....that I simply can't explain.
I hope someone can here now.
The scene:
My friend in his all original Challenger T/A and me in my '68 Super Bee (that was decidedly NOT all
original), headed up the highway to a NeHOA meet in Syracuse NY in springtime.
My Bee had a 440, quite tame and worn, short of the usual headers, Holley and a bit of a purpleshaft
in it, 18 spline and 3.91 SG 8 3/4 rear - and some rather loud-assed cherry bombs.
The car was obnoxious (like I liked 'em in those days) but far from a speed demon - it was just an
old car really.
Anyways - back to that night:
We'd both been driving several hours since northern VA that night, trying to beat traffic through urban places
and such (we'd figured out nighttime travel was best to get to big shows) - and we're
both getting a bit antsy, in need stopping for leg-stretching and of course - gas.
Then, after hours of drowsy driving and in the middle of somewhere south of Syracuse, ol' Tom decides
it's time to get a bit silly....
In my road haze, I suddenly hear that T/A open up about the time he buzzes by me at about 90.
That admittedly wakes me up a bit from the road hypno I was under - so in kind, I decide to return the favor
and blast by him at 100 or so.
(Man, the crap we used to pull on public roads in our youth, I swear...)
Of course, he answers with a 110 pass of his own and I'm thinking "my car tops out at 115 and I'm
a long way - both distance and money-wise - from home here."
Ah, the heck with it... (sort of like todays' phrase of "hold my beer") ... I tell my passenger buddy to hang on,
that something, good or bad, is about to happen.
I then proceed to pass Tom, the Bee floored, and the car dutifully does its' 115 and says "that's all I got"...
My buddy Tom also knows that's all the Bee has, so he figures he'll roll by at 120 and that'll be that.
That would have normally been the end of it....but noooo:
Tom then gives me one of those smug ****-eating grins as he goes by...
Oh, hell no he didn't! Yeah, yeah he did, the little ****...
Well, that did it. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction, not this time.
Irked at his cockiness, I decided to push things a bit, potential carnage be damned.
So....I run the car back up to its' "limit" and it starts doing that weird vibration it did at top speed
(never knew what that was, guessing driveshaft balance or some such?) and it hit its' usual "wall"...
except this time, 115 wasn't going to be good enough.
Hell, I even lifted momentarily, then slammed the pedal right back down with emphasis, barking at the Bee
to go faster and probably bending throttle stuff in the process.
She shook, she resisted, she got quiet a moment - then suddenly, she practically lept forward with some sort
of other-worldly added vigor and took off!
My mind, shocked at first at what was going on, frantically scanned gauges...
Speedo clicked past 120...125....130....135...140. Holy ****!
It was really weird - like we'd entered another dimension or something...
All the vibration was gone; the thing felt like something freed up in the driveline and she got all
smooth and URGENT...and all this was happening on a strange deserted interstate far from home
at 5am!
With a panicked glance at the Super Tach II, which I could only catch a glimpse of (but I think it
said "north of 6 grand - you're gonna BLOW THIS THING UP!" or something to that effect...), it
took a second for me to digest what was going on.
Keep in mind, that old car had never been anywhere NEAR such speeds. Heck, it ate oil at a quart
per tank in those days. I'm saying, it was a tired old 440....
but that raggedy old 440 had lept into some sort of time warp and as quickly as it had happened, I was out
of the throttle and steering white-knuckled, trying like hell to keep her straight with worn suspension and
air shocks and all that.
"Woah, big girl....please woah.....for the love of GOD, PLEASE woah...."
Quite entertaining, trying to pilot that ancient thing back down....
After a bit, adrenalin began to settle in both myself and the car - and the next exit thankfully had an open gas
station with suddenly VERY important restrooms.
I managed to exit, then get the car stopped at the deserted pumps and got it started filling up the now-empty tank.
When Tom finally comes rolling in, slowly - his eyes big as saucers - he's incredulous at what he's just witnessed.
I just hold up my index finger as if to say "gimme a minute" and practically run to the bathroom.
Later, sitting on the curb of the gas station and guzzling some cola (probably Jolt cola in those days?), I was able to discuss
what had occurred with Tom - but I couldn't quite explain it.
I didn't believe what the speedo and tach had told me, but he shook his head and said "you were definitely well over 130
because I couldn't keep up after that - what did you do to that thing?"
Not a dang thing, Tom. Honest....
"Damndest thing I've ever seen...." he says...and I never did that again, instead babying and taking the best care of the car
I could, sort of hoping it didn't punish me for what I'd done to it as well as rewarding it.
Now....that story told, I've never been able to explain what happened that night.
How in the hell did that old 440 spin that fast and not grenade? Hell, how did the admittedly geriatric original chassis car
not shake to pieces? How the heck did it do all that with 3.91 gears and no overdrive?
Beats hell out of me....but I tell you what:
I still remember it vividly to this day, 40+ years later.
Oh, I suppose I could give you a pic of the two cars in question, so here:
Tom's still got his T/A. I foolishly sold the Bee sometime later to buy another, more original one....
Wish like hell I could get it back, of course. No idea where the car is (or even if it still exists).
Well, there ya go. Experts, let me have it!
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