Simply put, happiness is valve float. You’ve reached the max point of the engine’s capability to ingest and expel air. You’ve found the limit. Very few people will ever see the absolute limit of what an engine is capable of because they are afraid of what the consequences might be…and rightfully so. Not many engines can tolerate the upper end of the rev range long without some major wear and tear and there’s always a chance that something will let go…at which point, just go ahead and plan on an entirely new engine. But for those fleeting moments when the tach is buried, the shift light is flashing like a strobe in your face, begging you for mercy, there is that clear, conscious thought that reminds you of the phrase, “absolute power corrupts absolutely”. You’ve reached absolute power…and you now know how it feels.
But that euphoria is tempered by what, exactly, you are revving to the moon. Just a little bit, anyways. It’s cool to see a Ford Fiesta’s angry side, but the howl that a properly pissed-off small-block Ford emits is something to behold. It isn’t the fire-breathing 427 that haunted Enzo Ferrari’s dreams in the 1960s, but it doesn’t need to be. Legions of Mustang owners, fleets of truck enthusiasts and more know what can be. It’s not lost on the Aussies, either…the V8 Ford Falcon is pretty much responsible for government paranoia over fast cars. That was back when a 130 MPH top speed was something to outright fear. Something tells me that this 410ci powered Falcon XC has more oats in it by a wide mile. 130? Child’s play.