Here is your song. The strong, chopping idle. The slight whine of the blower. All you’re missing is the smell of the exhaust and that pulsing hitting your chest like the finger of an angry drill sergeant who has a serious issue with you. There is no constant whirr of a ProCharger or the airy whistle of turbochargers. That new stuff works alright but there is no denying the sound of the old school. That analog beat, that ferocity that is exposed for all to enjoy is something that is being outpaced by quiet cruise missiles with taillights. This is more like how it used to be…find the biggest, baddest car in the lot and see if you had the power to put ’em to bed.
A car like this ’56 Chevrolet is like the moment you look at your kindly grandfather after you learned about his wartime exploits. It’s not the same anymore…you can’t forget what you just heard. This Chevy might have been that friendly hot rod in the garage to you as a kid, like Grandpa was the guy who took you and Dad out to breakfast with on Sunday mornings, but now you’ve seen the darker side. Just like Grand-dad kicked ass when he was younger, so did this car, and even though the years have passed, make no mistake that Grandpa still has what it takes to whip someone’s ass when the time has come.
Looking for the fuel injection part of this….
Could not have said it better. Those things do look like carburetors…