Moparmatt72
Well-Known Member
I got this along time ago, it was published in I believe Mopar Mag, or Mopar Muscle, but its by Henry Keshena Seestedt:
Starter whines, engine roars, Feel the horses through the floor. Choppy idle, racing cam, Pounding ground, it's no sedan. Helmet on, pull strap tight, Rev the engine, feel the might. Seat belt on, shoulder too, Moving forward into view.
Rev again, clear the carb, See Official, punch your card. Slowly stop, in line you wait, Rev once more, check all eight. Move into the lane with haste, Heart beats faster, about to race.
Brake real hard, in first gear, Foot to floor, show no fear. Spin the tires, make them smoke, This is essential, and no joke. Heated tires, to get the traction, This is why you take this action. Spin them faster, release the brake. Car shoots forward, noise it makes. Stop it hard, it felt just right. Now inch toward the staging light. Inch up slow, you barely creep, Go too far, you'll stage too deep.
On the other side, in the other lane, Your opponent's playin' the same oF game. Now he moves up and you're both ready. So you take a breath to keep you steady.
Shift in first, rev up-two grand, Back end rises, for the race at hand Yellows come down 1, 2, 3, Fourth light green on the Christmas tree. Leave too soon and it's been said, The light you see, be the dreaded red. Big red light, you pay the cost, 'Cause that means foul, already lost. Wait for green, too much time, And you will lose on reaction time. So on third yellow, start your move, Hit the gas, you're in the groove.
Green light on, you start to spin Spin too much, you want to win. You back off, the tires grip, Back on the gas, you let'em rip.
The other lane, the one you race, Is way in front to set the pace. 'Cause just before, to start the action, You both left, he got the traction. You come on, pass at 60 feet, Roars like thunder, shift at 53.
He comes back, passes at halftrack, But you move forward, close the gap. You move ahead, he's still strong, You shift again, then you're gone. As you beat him 'cross the finish line Get your slip, it says twelve-nine.
Feel so crazy, feel so good,
Big block Chrysler, 'neath this hood.
Henry Keshena Seestedt
Starter whines, engine roars, Feel the horses through the floor. Choppy idle, racing cam, Pounding ground, it's no sedan. Helmet on, pull strap tight, Rev the engine, feel the might. Seat belt on, shoulder too, Moving forward into view.
Rev again, clear the carb, See Official, punch your card. Slowly stop, in line you wait, Rev once more, check all eight. Move into the lane with haste, Heart beats faster, about to race.
Brake real hard, in first gear, Foot to floor, show no fear. Spin the tires, make them smoke, This is essential, and no joke. Heated tires, to get the traction, This is why you take this action. Spin them faster, release the brake. Car shoots forward, noise it makes. Stop it hard, it felt just right. Now inch toward the staging light. Inch up slow, you barely creep, Go too far, you'll stage too deep.
On the other side, in the other lane, Your opponent's playin' the same oF game. Now he moves up and you're both ready. So you take a breath to keep you steady.
Shift in first, rev up-two grand, Back end rises, for the race at hand Yellows come down 1, 2, 3, Fourth light green on the Christmas tree. Leave too soon and it's been said, The light you see, be the dreaded red. Big red light, you pay the cost, 'Cause that means foul, already lost. Wait for green, too much time, And you will lose on reaction time. So on third yellow, start your move, Hit the gas, you're in the groove.
Green light on, you start to spin Spin too much, you want to win. You back off, the tires grip, Back on the gas, you let'em rip.
The other lane, the one you race, Is way in front to set the pace. 'Cause just before, to start the action, You both left, he got the traction. You come on, pass at 60 feet, Roars like thunder, shift at 53.
He comes back, passes at halftrack, But you move forward, close the gap. You move ahead, he's still strong, You shift again, then you're gone. As you beat him 'cross the finish line Get your slip, it says twelve-nine.
Feel so crazy, feel so good,
Big block Chrysler, 'neath this hood.
Henry Keshena Seestedt
