Back in 1977 I think I swindle my big brother out of the 1966 Chevy II that he built. It had a Chevy big block 350 jammed in it with a 4 speed Muncie transmission, hushtrush mufflers up under the chassis, bucket seats up front, a Hurst Shifter and some really cool shag carpet on the floor board. Remember boys and girls, this was 1977.
One of these days I’ll have to ask my big bro to explain to me how I ended up with his car. I think I paid him $600 bucks for it, or maybe, I was supposed to.
The car was baby blue and all of the chrome was in great shape. It had big Cragar wheels on the back and thin wheels up front. This car would scream down the road. At one point we put a 6 pack on top of the engine. This is 3 2-barrell carburetors on a special intake manifold. Damn, that car would fly.
Anyway, I had I a blast in this car. There are at least five good stories that I am willing to share about this car. One is the night I raced some dude in a big bad pickup truck.
I pulled up to a stop sign in Dickerson Maryland, probably around 2 or 3 in the morning and likely after one of my trips to Frederick where you could find a lot of good cold beer and some fun.
This dude in the pickup truck pulled up on the left side of my car at the stop sign. He had his girl friend right next to him on the bench seat and I could see he was hoping to impress her with his big bad truck. He yelled something about being big and bad and how my baby blue car looked like a sissy car. I ignored him for about 10 seconds before I looked over at him. His girl friend was pointing at my car and laughing with him about how small it was compared to his big truck. I asked him if he knew what kind of motor they put in 66 Chevy IIs. He laughed and said about all you could get in one of them sissy cars would be a 6 cylinder with a 1 barrel carburetor and a 3 speed transmission. I laughed at him and then I punched the gas and let go of the clutch.
I know I left about 15 feet of rubber on the road before I hit second gear and then onto 3rd and 4th gear and up to about 90 miles an hour pretty quickly. Fortunately for me I knew the road I was on and it was pretty straight all the way to the next town. It went had plenty of hills on it, but no sharp turns so I felt good doing 90 at night.
After driving about a quarter of a mile in 4th gear, I backed off the gas.
By then the truck was right on my rear bumper. The truck was jacked up and this put his head lights right in my rear view mirror and eyes. For a moment it blinded me and I crossed the center line right about the time the truck shifted to the left so that he could try to pass me. I almost ran him off the road before I recovered and pulled back to the right.
I dropped back into 3rd gear, punched the gas and quickly passed the truck again as I headed up the hill into the next town.
I pulled up the hill and to the next stop sign. Within a few seconds the truck pulled up beside me and the dude got out of the truck cussing up a storm. At first I thought that he was pissed off that the Sissy car beat him and embarrassed him in front of his girl friend, but no, he was fired up that I nearly ran him off the road. Even though it was dark, I could see his face was blood red and he had veins popping out of his neck. Not a good sight. Somewhat scary, if you know what I mean.
He walked toward me cussing me up one side and down another and wanted me to get out of my car so that he could kick my butt. I decided to stay in the car.
However, I failed to wind up the window and the dude walked up to my car and smashed me in the eye thru the window. Now, I’ve been hit before, but I did not see that one coming. He cold-cocked me just like you see in the movies, except I did not have a stuntman sitting in for me.
Back then I weighed about 150 pounds, soaking wet and carrying a case of beer. But, that night I had my fair share of beer and I just raced my car down a country road at about 90 mph. The adrenalin was pumping.
The guy started to walk away as I popped the clutch, killing the engine of my car. I opened my door and jumped up toward the dude as his girl friend started screaming for him to get back in the truck. He must have been hen pecked, because he continued toward his door and ignored the fact that I was yelling at him and heading his way.
Even though it was likely 2 or 3 am, a car headed up the hill toward us and somehow or another, we all realized that we needed to get out of the street at this time. The fight was over before I even got a chance to try to throw my first blow.
When he pulled his door shut, his girl friend continued yelling at him for being an idiot. I turned and made fast tracks back to my car. As I sat down in my car the dude punch the gas of his big old truck and they flew down the road. I fired up my car and pulled off figuring I needed to get home before I got into any more trouble.
I never saw that guy or his truck again.
I guess I got real lucky that night. I tangled with a big ole boy and even though I got a big black eye out of it, I was lucky I didn’t get my butt kicked any worse. I’m not sure who was in the other car that pulled up behind us, but I owe them for the way that night ended.
I promised myself that I would never race my car ever again. Of course, I didn’t keep that promise, as you’ll hear in other stories.
Another story shared with you by Teddy Burriss. I hope you enjoyed it.