It was a nice sunny morning last Sunday, so I decided to take my '96 Talon TSi AWD to the local 1/8th mile dragway.
It really was the land of V8s. I was one of the only 4 cyl cars there. Everything else was a big ol' V8!
I was a little bit intimidated at first, because as I lined up to stage, the big RWD cars would burn up the tires in the waterbox first.
I won my first couple of races, however, because the cars I raced were real peices of crap. I started out slow, because I was just tuning my car after a long winter of her sleeping in the garage. I didn't want to abuse my baby right away.
After a few good runs, and feeling comfortable with my lack of knock, I turned the boost up from 18 to about 22psi. Ohhh baby. Little did I know the beast I had just let out of the bottle.
I first lined up against some kind of Honda, one of the few other 4 cyls there. I had a problem with the tree, and he got about a 3 car length jump on me before I finally launched. It didn't matter. The boost kicked in, the 117 octane race fuel I had paid $40 bucks for started its smooth burn, and I reeled in and flew by that Honda with such speed I'm amazed his doors didn't blow off! It was amazing.
I was pretty happy with that run, but the next race topped them all. I was lined up next to a car I had been admiring all day. It was a beautiful blue 383 Roadrunner. As in 383 cubic inches of American Muscle. Compared with my 4G63's puny 122 cubes. On top of that, he had on ET Streets. Street my ass.
So as I lined up to the light, I heard him doing a massive burnout, then he pulled up beside me. I put my foot to the floor and heard my stutterbox doing it's thing.
The lights dropped. We took off.
Both the cars left at about the same speed. AWD & Slicks proved themselves to be equal over the first 60 feet. Neck and Neck, it was too close to call. Then I slammed into second gear, expecting him to pull ahead, with his smooth automatic and big V8 Torque Monster.
It didn't happen. Instead, I started *pulling* on him. Hard. I couldn't believe it. I was pulling ahead of that sweet car! My baby was running smooth as butter. The shift into second had been slick. The shift into third, normally grinding, was silent. It was as if my little 4 banger had something to prove!
And she did. I beat that Roadrunner by a couple of car lengths. It was sweet. As I drove down the return lane, I saw people pointing at my little Talon with respect.
It was a good day in V8 land.
It really was the land of V8s. I was one of the only 4 cyl cars there. Everything else was a big ol' V8!
I was a little bit intimidated at first, because as I lined up to stage, the big RWD cars would burn up the tires in the waterbox first.
I won my first couple of races, however, because the cars I raced were real peices of crap. I started out slow, because I was just tuning my car after a long winter of her sleeping in the garage. I didn't want to abuse my baby right away.
After a few good runs, and feeling comfortable with my lack of knock, I turned the boost up from 18 to about 22psi. Ohhh baby. Little did I know the beast I had just let out of the bottle.
I first lined up against some kind of Honda, one of the few other 4 cyls there. I had a problem with the tree, and he got about a 3 car length jump on me before I finally launched. It didn't matter. The boost kicked in, the 117 octane race fuel I had paid $40 bucks for started its smooth burn, and I reeled in and flew by that Honda with such speed I'm amazed his doors didn't blow off! It was amazing.
I was pretty happy with that run, but the next race topped them all. I was lined up next to a car I had been admiring all day. It was a beautiful blue 383 Roadrunner. As in 383 cubic inches of American Muscle. Compared with my 4G63's puny 122 cubes. On top of that, he had on ET Streets. Street my ass.
So as I lined up to the light, I heard him doing a massive burnout, then he pulled up beside me. I put my foot to the floor and heard my stutterbox doing it's thing.
The lights dropped. We took off.
Both the cars left at about the same speed. AWD & Slicks proved themselves to be equal over the first 60 feet. Neck and Neck, it was too close to call. Then I slammed into second gear, expecting him to pull ahead, with his smooth automatic and big V8 Torque Monster.
It didn't happen. Instead, I started *pulling* on him. Hard. I couldn't believe it. I was pulling ahead of that sweet car! My baby was running smooth as butter. The shift into second had been slick. The shift into third, normally grinding, was silent. It was as if my little 4 banger had something to prove!
And she did. I beat that Roadrunner by a couple of car lengths. It was sweet. As I drove down the return lane, I saw people pointing at my little Talon with respect.
It was a good day in V8 land.
