(Now in the proper forum)
It seemed like a good idea at the time . . .
On an unseasonably cold Saturday afternoon, I mentioned in passing to Mrs. Speedy that Goodguys now opens their shows up to late-model American-powered cars on Super Sundays. Then I let slip that the last show of the season (within reasonable driving distance) was the next day.
The next thing I know, Mrs. Speedy's "mobilizing for Iwo Jima" -- Packing like the Howells for "the three-hour tour." Pausing briefly, she queries "Will we have room for your drag tires?"
"Don't need em, Dear . . . they don't have drag racing at Goodguys . . . they have Autocross," I replied.
"Autowhat?"
"Autocross . . . you know . . . that parking lot racing round orange cones . . . they have it on the Power Tour."
"Oh you're going to do that!" Mrs. Speedy instantly decides.
"Wuh . . uh . . . well . . . I . . . uh . . . all right, I guess."
That seemed easier than admitting to Mrs. Speedy that the last time I'd driven around any orange cones was parallel parking practice in high school driver's ed (around the time President Ford was debating Jimmy Carter).
Oh sure, I'd SEEN some SCCA and club autocrosses . . . even taken plenty of photos . . . I'd read the "Auto-X" magazines and even one of the books about how to prepare and flick fly-weight imports around without killing cones.
And deep down, I knew that hitting an autocross course with 3,700 lbs. of woefully unprepared pony car on granite-hard UTOG 400 235-section-width tires with an SUV-inspired ride height would look like a hog dancing at the ice capades.
But then this was Goodguys . . . the lawn-chair autocrossing circuit.
No thousand-dollar sets of R-compound tires. No imports . . . nobody fretting over quarter pounds of tire pressure or building ridiculous "heat walls" to keep their tires warm . . . nobody measuring track widths or wheel off-sets or filing protests . . .
Just some slow-reacting old guys with antique muscle cars and towering 350/350 street rods scraping around on their rocker panels. And an autocross course is just a downsized road course, right? So it'd be like an open track day, only slower.
"How hard could it be?"
(The powers of rationalization are strong with this one).
So a little over eighteen hours and hundreds of miles later, Walt Reynolds (Chad
It seemed like a good idea at the time . . .
On an unseasonably cold Saturday afternoon, I mentioned in passing to Mrs. Speedy that Goodguys now opens their shows up to late-model American-powered cars on Super Sundays. Then I let slip that the last show of the season (within reasonable driving distance) was the next day.
The next thing I know, Mrs. Speedy's "mobilizing for Iwo Jima" -- Packing like the Howells for "the three-hour tour." Pausing briefly, she queries "Will we have room for your drag tires?"
"Don't need em, Dear . . . they don't have drag racing at Goodguys . . . they have Autocross," I replied.
"Autowhat?"
"Autocross . . . you know . . . that parking lot racing round orange cones . . . they have it on the Power Tour."
"Oh you're going to do that!" Mrs. Speedy instantly decides.
"Wuh . . uh . . . well . . . I . . . uh . . . all right, I guess."
That seemed easier than admitting to Mrs. Speedy that the last time I'd driven around any orange cones was parallel parking practice in high school driver's ed (around the time President Ford was debating Jimmy Carter).
Oh sure, I'd SEEN some SCCA and club autocrosses . . . even taken plenty of photos . . . I'd read the "Auto-X" magazines and even one of the books about how to prepare and flick fly-weight imports around without killing cones.
And deep down, I knew that hitting an autocross course with 3,700 lbs. of woefully unprepared pony car on granite-hard UTOG 400 235-section-width tires with an SUV-inspired ride height would look like a hog dancing at the ice capades.
But then this was Goodguys . . . the lawn-chair autocrossing circuit.
No thousand-dollar sets of R-compound tires. No imports . . . nobody fretting over quarter pounds of tire pressure or building ridiculous "heat walls" to keep their tires warm . . . nobody measuring track widths or wheel off-sets or filing protests . . .
Just some slow-reacting old guys with antique muscle cars and towering 350/350 street rods scraping around on their rocker panels. And an autocross course is just a downsized road course, right? So it'd be like an open track day, only slower.
"How hard could it be?"
(The powers of rationalization are strong with this one).
So a little over eighteen hours and hundreds of miles later, Walt Reynolds (Chad
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