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TOPIC: street stories

street stories 13 years 1 month ago #849

i was replying to another section of this forum and i told a story of my friend's chevelle. i got to thinking that everyone has at least one street or road race story about them or someone ,they know.i can remember several times when, i was younger, two cars would meet; next thing you know' there was a race. we never tried to endanger anyone, if you were losing badly, you let off and lost gracefully, until next time. my friend, neal"the racing legend" walters won 3 races out of 100, but he was there every weekend. he was more well known than the winners. just like dale earnhart sr., his hero. he hit a rock wall coming home, two miles away,he lived for a few minutes more. he was doing about 25 or 30 mph, so it wasn't speed that killed him. we never found out what really happened. he is missed dearly everyday. he was a happy go lucky teenager looking for some excitement. we had a flower made like a trophy for his funeral, no one else really understood, but i know he did.we later explained to his momma what it meant. she agreed that he would have approved.i hope this is a start of many stories, maybe the next one will be a little more upbeat. racing stories are like war stories, they both have happy and sad events in them to make you understand their reason for being. IN MEMORY OF NEAL AND DALE...AND OTHERS LOSING THEIR LIVES FIGHTING FOR US.
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street stories 2 13 years 2 weeks ago #980

o.k, children, let's try this again.this story begins a little over thirty years ago. my papaw rented off a man that had three sons. the first son,buddy, got a job while he was in high school. he saved his money for a year, then he put it on a down payment on a 69 pontaic GTO. it was frog shit green and was ugly even for a gto, but it was a 400ci,4speed,4;10 posi traction equipped car. he worked and added more to it, little by little, headers, mag wheels,etc.then, it was passed on to the second brother, johnny, who worked on it some more. finally, it ended up in the hands of terry, the youngest brother, who learned quick how to race it. terry won races here and there,when someone had the nerve. late one night, while coming home, he met up with a candy apple red 74 dodge charger that he knew too well. the car belonged to the man known as, smoke, because all you saw was the smoke of his rear tires as he left you behind. what the losers never knew was that under the hood was a 400ci police intercepter motor with a 4 speed transmission that were built for speed.smoke was the king that never lost. terry was the up and comer looking for the big win for the crown. they pulled side by side, waiting for the starting nod from the other driver. tire smoke rose as they tried to get traction. front ends leaoed forward as they lurched forward. the gto took the early lead as the charger was still winding up. then, the tail lights moved sideways as the charger finally gained grip on the road. terry pushed the pedal to the floor as the headers wailed. it was to no good, all he could see was tail lights in the distance. smoke was still the king, but there would be other nights and more stories to tell about. i stood there on the roadside with a few others as witnesses. an a was haooening before us that too soon be history. the memories still live on.
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lightning strikes twice 12 years 6 months ago #1659

this time, i'm just a story teller.my friend told me a story this week that i will pass on. i've written a couple times of a primer gray '55 chevy that looked like it rolled out of TWO LANE BLACKTOP. i told of how it has changed hands here recently with a lot of work being done to it. well, last friday night was a hot and humid night, with fog flowing across the still warm asphalt from an eariler thunderstorm that had hit suddenly like an omen. the boys were doing the usual shuffle of losers waiting for the big races to start. as the air settled for a moment, a loud rumble was heard. it was thought to be another fast storm approaching to the lesser knowns. a chosen few could remember the sound and knew what was coming, younger ones were blissful in their ignorance.a pair of low beam headlights barely cut the surrounding fog to show what was coming. in it's dark gray shell, it was hard to tell what it was and where it was at. the elders were silent as the babes were unknowningly laughing at their coming doom. there was no flashy paint to show it's existience nor glaring chrome to show wasted time and money. it was of no importance to these young renegades of the street. a blonde lad with envious skills and a fast, shiny mustang was the one to post the challenge, where older more skilled drivers remained quiet. to his wonderment, he couldn't figure their cowardice. a race for titles was quickly brought about and settled. his boyish heart beat hard as he paused for the start. the motors spun fast and hard,waiting for the launch of the contestants. smoke joined the fog as the tires fought or traction on wet pavement. they left even at the line, but didn't stay that way for long. the gray ghost leaped with the shift of it's gears. it was the first to get the grip needed to travel to the end. with another hard shift, he went farther and faster than anyone could have predicted. the youngblood could only watch in bewilderment as the old relic left his fast, shiny steed behind. then, as fast as it came, there were only two red dots in the distance shining in the fog.the noise faded as quickly as the vanishing lights. the boy asked the others what it was that had come from the fog. it will come again soon, so be ready was all that he was told.the gray primer '55 chevy lives again back on this earth for another piece of time so beware, children of the thing you don't know of that lives in the dark waiting for it's next victim.
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Re: street stories 12 years 6 months ago #1682

  • carlo
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Hahaha, Cool Supercharger, you should write a book with lots of these shortstories. Great stuff.
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thank you 12 years 6 months ago #1685

i just wanted to say thank you,CARLO, for your approval of my stories. i know i get a little carried away with them at times but what the hell huh? i use some literary imbellishment to make them more interesting but all of my stories are true. i have been lucky enough to be in the right places at the right time. street stories to me are like the wild west books that were written in the early years of the united states. most of it was true but they used different words to make it more exciting. street racers are a lot like the old gun slingers of the wild west. there was a challenge and whoever won was the best. i have thought about writing several books but never really considered my writing good enough. who knows, maybe i'll send you a copy of my first book.someday thanks again.
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Re: street stories 12 years 5 months ago #1907

  • nokatay
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I got a bunch, and my DMV record proves it! Not many race stories though.

Let's see, how long is the statute of limitations good for? Well anyways, one of my first stories takes place in the summer of '77 when I was 16 years old. I had spent a couple of weeks in Illinois with my cousins. My cousin Sherry drove a 1969 Mach 1 390. The roads out there were pretty flat and straight compared to New England and we spend a few nights running that Mustang pretty hard down those roads along the corn fields.

When I got back home it was the same old dull summer days stuck with out a car. We actually lived on an island with about 400 families and there wasn't much to do there. I needed a new Thermo Quad carb for my Challenger and lacked the cash to get it so I was pretty much stuck there. One night we all got some beers and I had a 6 pack of 16 oz Haffenraffer malt liquor. Everyone else had gone home around 11 o'clock and I was sitting there by myself. Somewhere in the middle of the 5th beer I decided I was going back to Illinios, right then! Since my car was down I took my Dad's '63 Impala 4 door with the 6 cylinder. I left a note at my girlfriend Stacey's house, it was cryptically written in crayon, that's all I could find in the Chevy, that I was going to Chicago. Her mother found it in the morning and gave it to her.

So I was off with my dog Presley, no he wasn't a hound dog. The tank was low so I filled it up at a station at the highway on ramp and since I spend my last bucks on the beer I had to drive off without paying. I only made it about 15 miles down the highway when some state troopers spooked me and thinking they were after me for stealing gas I started for the backroads. Only about 1200 miles to go! Well I soon got lost it being dark, not knowing the area and me being drunk. I was going down a road when a stop sign appeared and I stopped kind of late and slid a little on some sand at the intersection. There happened to be a local police car going by and he yelled something simple to me.

Keep in mind this was shortly after me seeing Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry and Vasnishing Point! Well that was all I needed and off I went! Where I was going wasn't clear but I wound that ole Chevy up and found out it only did 65 mph! What the hell? Damn that old boat didn't turn like my Dodge either. Talk about understeer and body roll! Presley could have told you about that as he was being thrown all aound the car's interior. I soon realized through the malt liquor haze that there was no way I was going to out run these guys so I made some turns and suddenly ended up on a dead end road that was literally fenced in with chain link. I can't remember if
Nowhere to run to, baby
Nowhere to hide
Got nowhere to run to, baby
Nowhere to hide

by Martha and the Vandellas was playing on that old AM radio, but it should have been. I didn't try to run, I was feeling pretty stupid about then, or maybe it was fear. Fear mainly what my Dad was gonna do when he got ahold of me.

The cops got me out and made me lay on the trunk of the car while they tried to figure what the hell I was trying to get away from. When I started spouting off how I would of got away if I had my Challenger and all they would of seen were tailights because the top end on that car...
Ow!!! Suddenly I found out those big black flashlights could shed light in more ways than one. Yes, I did see the light now. They were twinkling all over inside my head. The lump forming on the back of my noggin must have held a rear projection tv that was showing the opening credits from Star Wars because I could see alot of stars. As Ron "Tater Salad" White from Blue Collar Comedy say, "I had the right to remain silent, but I didn't have the means."

So away we all went to the Swansea police station for the night. In the morning I was arraigned and released to my parents. We were about half way home riding in thick silence and I blurted out "What about Presley?" My Mom asked "What do you mean?" I explained he was with me when I got arrested and he got arrested too, I guess, because when they took me to court in the morning he was in the next cell sitting on a bed of straw. Well that ended the silence, let me tell you. They brought me home with STRICT instructions not to leave my room while they went to bail out Presley.

My bed was feeling pretty good at that time anyways, what with the hangover and the "life's lesson" throbbing on the back of my head. I managed to get out of the house a couple of days later, but had to be home by dark though! Quite a deal I thought from the original grounded for life. I got to tell the story to Stacey and my friends. Since I was about the only one with a dirt bike on the island I already had a reputation as being a little south of sane. Think about it, blood red Challenger, Hodaka Wombat (thats a 125 cc dirt bike, they had the stainless steel tanks), not the guy parents wanted their daughter hanging out with.

Me, Presley and Luke Skywalker were the heroes among the kids that summer. The dog had a rep now, too. I don't know how my parents didn't make me sell the Challenger after pulling that stunt. I had to go to a defensive driver class for a few weeks and got the whole record sealed. My cousin thought the whole thing was pretty funny and Stacey's Mom always looked at me real funny after that and fixed her up with a real 'nice' guy.

This is a true story and I've told it many times over the years. There's a version where I did donuts around the police station flagpole to initiate the chase, but that never really happened. I think that version came after 5 Haffenraffers one night.

Presley died in 1988 after becoming very well known and liked in the neighborhood and sharing many adventures with me. Another judge eventually opend my sealed court record, but that's another story for another day.

Peace.
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