I’ve seen nitrous sprayed into the heavens as if it was the cure for every ailment that plagues mankind. I’ve seen turbocharged power wheelies that allow cars to cross the traps on their rear wheels while charging like a rocket-powered freight train pointing down the side of Pikes Peak. I’ve heard rotaries make the kind of noises you’d expect to hear from a swarm of demonic wasp. But there is nothing…in my book, not one thing…that will trump the wall of sound, the utter audible violence of a blower car.
How do you explain that? Well, because it’s not just noise, it’s a theatrical experience. You get the visual presentation of a whole lot of engine sticking out of a hood, with a big blower hat crowning the lump. You have straps in place to keep the blower itself from flying to the moon in cse things go wrong. There are butterfly valves so big that when they crack open you hope there isn’t a bird flying nearby, otherwise there’s a chance you’ll see feathers come puffing out of the exhaust. There’s the right-now immediacy at launch…when the yellows flash, the butterflies open full and before you knew the green light was on, the engine blasted into life. Halfway down the track the supercharger really comes into it’s own and the engine gets a howl going that no naturally-aspirated car will touch, one no turbocharged machine seems able to equal.