Hello, everyone. I only stop by here every so often, but I figured many of you would enjoy hearing this (warning: very long).
Since building "The Beast," as I affectionally call it, and tuning out various little idiosyncratic annoyances, I haven't been able to buy a race. Sure, down at the track someone always lines up alongside me by matter of default, but it's just not the same as a little spontaneous go on the street (when the proper road and rare dearth of traffic make it safe to do so). I've rolled up next to several Camaros, Mustangs, a Supra or two, even a '69 Firebird with a worked 455 and a bottle the size of an in-ground oil tank in the trunk . . . nothing. Maybe it's the fact that The Beast bounces like a jackhammer at idle? What with a cam that feels like it wants to jump up through the intake manifold and the Stingers popping off resonant bursts of fury, I think maybe to an outside perspective my Z resembles a bull with its head down, clawing at the dirt, and seeing red.
Seriously, getting someone to race is, for lack of a better cliche, like pulling teeth. I got beat plenty of times in my old Vette (a 92' LT1, bone stock), but that never deterred me from trying when I found myself lined up against one of the true big boys. Seems a lot of people would rather not race than lose. What's the fun in that?
Anyway, my long awaited opportunity finally came last night. I was on my way home early this morning (about 2:40 AM) from a friend's house in southern Jersey. The Garden State Parkway at this time is such a pleasant contrast to what I call "The Commuting Hours." For at least 15 miles, at one point, I had the whole highway to myself. A rarity, as anyone who lives in Jersey will tell you.
As I approached one of the many toll plazas on the Parkway, I saw a pair of headlights gaining on me quickly (I was cruising at a comfortable 70). The effortless rate of speed and the foglights clued me in that it was probably something at least moderately fast. I downshifted to third to announce my presence and held the RPMs at about 3800, a neck-snapping launch point for me when racing from a roll.
The car caught me about a 1/4 mile from the plaza. I looked over and, much to my delight, it was a Sonic Blue '03 Cobra! His nose plunged as he stomped the brakes to pull even with me. He blipped the throttle a couple times and paced me to the plaza, which was indication enough for me that he wanted to engage The Beast. A little tinge of nervousness sprouted to life in my stomach. Not for fear that I might lose, but rather a measured concern of how oily the patch of concrete through the toll booth was going to be. Even with drag radials, hooking The Beast up is always an adventure.
Ah, but I get a break--he rolls in and begins to roll out, which made it seem fair to me that I do the same. I'm a lot better off starting from even a slow roll than from a static launch. As soon as I cleared the concrete stantions, he stomped it. I could hear from the snarl of his exhaust that it wasn't stock; '03 Cobras are uncharacteristically quiet, excepting the appealing whine of the blower. Careful not to attach my foot to the floor, I laid down 3/4 throttle and worked my way with caution to the mats. I slammed second, letting off a moment to give the tires a chance to catch, and then stood on it, roaring 3 cars past him, which I increased to 5 cars into third (even with having to let off again) and about 8 by the time I made it to fourth. I shut it down at that point and waited for him to catch up. We played back and forth for the next five miles or so, with my most significant victory being about 10 or 12 cars from a 50 punch up to about 140. And still, much to my surprise, only another car or two was on the road besides us. That didn't last.
Up ahead, as the Cobra guy and I were cruising side-by-side, I spied a peculiar sight. I saw a car with a wide, low profile ass and another car that appeared to be driving in fragmented circles around it. If you're saying, "huh?," that's what I said, too. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized what was going on.
A black Viper GTS ACR was cruising at almost the speed limit in the middle lane. Buzzing around it was an eager DSM, trying, I assume, to get him to play. What this guy (the DSM driver) was going was great!:takethat: He would ride up on the Viper's ass, cut right, nail it, jump in front of him, then cut left, brake, let the Viper pass him and repeat the process. I imagine the DSM guy didn't want to let the opportunity pass by and had become disillusioned with the Viper's indifference to his overtures. The guy in the Cobra raced ahead to pull even with the circus going on in front us. I was just sitting there laughing, wondering what must have been going through the head of the Viper guy (May day! May Day! Under attack! Incoming! )
I think everyone is curious about the abilities of the new Cobra, because as soon as he pulled alongside the Viper, I saw the taillights dip and he was off. The other cars took off in pursuit and I was immediately impressed by how the DSM bucked (under a severe downshift apparently) and went into orbit. Wow! He ran down the Viper and forced the Cobra to try to run down him.
I wasn't about to let the action go down without me, so I broke into the left lane, downshifted to fourth and drew even with the pack as they slowed down and lined up for a 60 punch. I held it in fourth. The DSM guy took the liberties of doing the three-honk. I eased her into third and feathered the clutch up, the motor responding with an especially angry growl. The DSM guy, in the lane next to me, gave me a quick wide-eyed appraising glance. I flashed a smile. The three honks came a moment later and we were off. Well, they were off. I punched it too hard and began painting the asphalt with rubber at 60 MPH. The cold air tradeoff-more horses for less traction. I laid off for a second, to allow the tires to catch . . . and catch they did. Here comes the part you're going to love . . .
I blew past the Cobra, who was a car-and-a-half behind the Viper. I smoked by the Viper too, who was a little over a car behind the DSM! Jesus, was that thing fast! It left two alleged "big boys" in the dust and was widening the margin still!
By 125 I had put 3 cars on the DSM and at 145, when we shut'em down, I was maybe 5 1/2 -6 cars up on him, 8 and 10 on the Viper and Cobra respectively. We raced three more times with generally the same results. Me falling behind at the get-go, as I smoked them on the launch (even from around 70 once!) and the shift from third to fourth, and ending up 5-6 ahead of the closest competitor, who happened to be the DSM in every race!
Now, you're probably thinking that 5-6 car lengths is a lot. You have to understand, though, how ridiculously fast The Beast is. It feels like it's going to shake itself apart under WOT. The weight-to-power ratio is sick. I couldn't believe how well that DSM kept up. I usually blast away from most everyone (at the track, that is). While leaving no question who won, I couldn't even come close to making this guy a speck in my rearview like I do to most at the track. I was completely impressed. I mean, this guy laid the smack down on the Viper's finest (up until this year anyway) and the fearsome '03 Cobra. Props to DSMs. Done right, they are truly amazing cars.
We all pulled into a rest stop a few miles after the final race. I bought Whoppers for everyone at Burger King and we rapped for a while. The Viper was stock, except for exhaust. The Cobra had a Diablo chip, a Lightning Pulley and a Bassani full exhaust (the guy claimed 440 RWHP). Forgive me for being somewhat illiterate when it comes to DSM mods if I mess up some of the names or confuse the terminologies. I'm doing this from memory. He had a 20g turbo, 3" full exhaust w/turbo downpipe, Greddy boost controller, turbo timer, and BOV (that's what he called it and I was too embarrassed to ask what it stood for; blowoff valve, I assume?), and a few other tidbits I'm not remembering at the moment. Either way, it was a well done machine. Blazing fast. The owner was really cool. His name was Rick. He said he rarely loses and that my Z was the fastest car he's ever encountered anywhere. Are you on here Rick? If so, great runs. Your car is, in it's own right, a beast! Sweet ride, man.
Thanks for reading this novel. What a great series of races!
Zealous
Since building "The Beast," as I affectionally call it, and tuning out various little idiosyncratic annoyances, I haven't been able to buy a race. Sure, down at the track someone always lines up alongside me by matter of default, but it's just not the same as a little spontaneous go on the street (when the proper road and rare dearth of traffic make it safe to do so). I've rolled up next to several Camaros, Mustangs, a Supra or two, even a '69 Firebird with a worked 455 and a bottle the size of an in-ground oil tank in the trunk . . . nothing. Maybe it's the fact that The Beast bounces like a jackhammer at idle? What with a cam that feels like it wants to jump up through the intake manifold and the Stingers popping off resonant bursts of fury, I think maybe to an outside perspective my Z resembles a bull with its head down, clawing at the dirt, and seeing red.
Seriously, getting someone to race is, for lack of a better cliche, like pulling teeth. I got beat plenty of times in my old Vette (a 92' LT1, bone stock), but that never deterred me from trying when I found myself lined up against one of the true big boys. Seems a lot of people would rather not race than lose. What's the fun in that? Anyway, my long awaited opportunity finally came last night. I was on my way home early this morning (about 2:40 AM) from a friend's house in southern Jersey. The Garden State Parkway at this time is such a pleasant contrast to what I call "The Commuting Hours." For at least 15 miles, at one point, I had the whole highway to myself. A rarity, as anyone who lives in Jersey will tell you.
As I approached one of the many toll plazas on the Parkway, I saw a pair of headlights gaining on me quickly (I was cruising at a comfortable 70). The effortless rate of speed and the foglights clued me in that it was probably something at least moderately fast. I downshifted to third to announce my presence and held the RPMs at about 3800, a neck-snapping launch point for me when racing from a roll.
The car caught me about a 1/4 mile from the plaza. I looked over and, much to my delight, it was a Sonic Blue '03 Cobra! His nose plunged as he stomped the brakes to pull even with me. He blipped the throttle a couple times and paced me to the plaza, which was indication enough for me that he wanted to engage The Beast. A little tinge of nervousness sprouted to life in my stomach. Not for fear that I might lose, but rather a measured concern of how oily the patch of concrete through the toll booth was going to be. Even with drag radials, hooking The Beast up is always an adventure.
Ah, but I get a break--he rolls in and begins to roll out, which made it seem fair to me that I do the same. I'm a lot better off starting from even a slow roll than from a static launch. As soon as I cleared the concrete stantions, he stomped it. I could hear from the snarl of his exhaust that it wasn't stock; '03 Cobras are uncharacteristically quiet, excepting the appealing whine of the blower. Careful not to attach my foot to the floor, I laid down 3/4 throttle and worked my way with caution to the mats. I slammed second, letting off a moment to give the tires a chance to catch, and then stood on it, roaring 3 cars past him, which I increased to 5 cars into third (even with having to let off again) and about 8 by the time I made it to fourth. I shut it down at that point and waited for him to catch up. We played back and forth for the next five miles or so, with my most significant victory being about 10 or 12 cars from a 50 punch up to about 140. And still, much to my surprise, only another car or two was on the road besides us. That didn't last.
Up ahead, as the Cobra guy and I were cruising side-by-side, I spied a peculiar sight. I saw a car with a wide, low profile ass and another car that appeared to be driving in fragmented circles around it. If you're saying, "huh?," that's what I said, too. It wasn't until I got closer that I realized what was going on.
A black Viper GTS ACR was cruising at almost the speed limit in the middle lane. Buzzing around it was an eager DSM, trying, I assume, to get him to play. What this guy (the DSM driver) was going was great!:takethat: He would ride up on the Viper's ass, cut right, nail it, jump in front of him, then cut left, brake, let the Viper pass him and repeat the process. I imagine the DSM guy didn't want to let the opportunity pass by and had become disillusioned with the Viper's indifference to his overtures. The guy in the Cobra raced ahead to pull even with the circus going on in front us. I was just sitting there laughing, wondering what must have been going through the head of the Viper guy (May day! May Day! Under attack! Incoming!
)I think everyone is curious about the abilities of the new Cobra, because as soon as he pulled alongside the Viper, I saw the taillights dip and he was off. The other cars took off in pursuit and I was immediately impressed by how the DSM bucked (under a severe downshift apparently) and went into orbit. Wow! He ran down the Viper and forced the Cobra to try to run down him.
I wasn't about to let the action go down without me, so I broke into the left lane, downshifted to fourth and drew even with the pack as they slowed down and lined up for a 60 punch. I held it in fourth. The DSM guy took the liberties of doing the three-honk. I eased her into third and feathered the clutch up, the motor responding with an especially angry growl. The DSM guy, in the lane next to me, gave me a quick wide-eyed appraising glance. I flashed a smile. The three honks came a moment later and we were off. Well, they were off. I punched it too hard and began painting the asphalt with rubber at 60 MPH. The cold air tradeoff-more horses for less traction.
I laid off for a second, to allow the tires to catch . . . and catch they did. Here comes the part you're going to love . . . I blew past the Cobra, who was a car-and-a-half behind the Viper. I smoked by the Viper too, who was a little over a car behind the DSM! Jesus, was that thing fast! It left two alleged "big boys" in the dust and was widening the margin still!
By 125 I had put 3 cars on the DSM and at 145, when we shut'em down, I was maybe 5 1/2 -6 cars up on him, 8 and 10 on the Viper and Cobra respectively. We raced three more times with generally the same results. Me falling behind at the get-go, as I smoked them on the launch (even from around 70 once!) and the shift from third to fourth, and ending up 5-6 ahead of the closest competitor, who happened to be the DSM in every race!
Now, you're probably thinking that 5-6 car lengths is a lot. You have to understand, though, how ridiculously fast The Beast is. It feels like it's going to shake itself apart under WOT. The weight-to-power ratio is sick. I couldn't believe how well that DSM kept up. I usually blast away from most everyone (at the track, that is). While leaving no question who won, I couldn't even come close to making this guy a speck in my rearview like I do to most at the track. I was completely impressed. I mean, this guy laid the smack down on the Viper's finest (up until this year anyway) and the fearsome '03 Cobra. Props to DSMs. Done right, they are truly amazing cars.
We all pulled into a rest stop a few miles after the final race. I bought Whoppers for everyone at Burger King and we rapped for a while. The Viper was stock, except for exhaust. The Cobra had a Diablo chip, a Lightning Pulley and a Bassani full exhaust (the guy claimed 440 RWHP). Forgive me for being somewhat illiterate when it comes to DSM mods if I mess up some of the names or confuse the terminologies. I'm doing this from memory. He had a 20g turbo, 3" full exhaust w/turbo downpipe, Greddy boost controller, turbo timer, and BOV (that's what he called it and I was too embarrassed to ask what it stood for; blowoff valve, I assume?), and a few other tidbits I'm not remembering at the moment. Either way, it was a well done machine. Blazing fast. The owner was really cool. His name was Rick. He said he rarely loses and that my Z was the fastest car he's ever encountered anywhere. Are you on here Rick? If so, great runs. Your car is, in it's own right, a beast! Sweet ride, man.
Thanks for reading this novel. What a great series of races!
Zealous
