For lack of blog material,
(exact car/color)am posting a memory from long ago. As some of you may recall, I spent my student loan $ on a '63 Vette, split window coupe, (sold it for $1800, worth about $75,000 today). Anyway, one night, Denny Westergren, who had a '60 Vette, and I, decided to race 'em, for a tank of gas. Since both of us were going for max payoff, he ran out of gas while we were revving 'em up at the starting line. After getting a couple gallons of gas, (while unknowingly being watched by a cop) we fired 'em up, and smoked 'em out. The cop was waiting for us, and pulled out in the middle of road, with his lights flashing. Being the upstanding young men we were, he swerved to the left and I went around him on the right and we both turned (in opposite directions) at the first intersection. Well, the cop could only follow one of us, and I was the lucky one. I figured there weren't that many "63 Vettes in town, so I hid it out, in the neighbor's garage for the next week, or so. While there, my neighbor, Vince Zink, decided his '60 Ford, with a 390 in it, must be faster than my 327. SO, we decided to race 'em. Bottom line, I blew him off the road and finally got my tank of gas (about $5.00). A final thought. Kearney, NE had a main street with bricks, instead of concrete, and if you had a hot rod, you could easily smoke the tires. A favorite thing to do, among us retards, was to sit at a red light, wait for a pedestrian, then put in the clutch, gun it, and pop the clutch. You'd just sit and smoke the tires, but not move, IF you hit the brake and clutch again, just right, while the poor walker just about had a heart attack. I can't believe I used to do stuff like that, but I did....
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