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part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4 • part 5 PART V: War Snake 2 Back to the story....just another night, another street fight. That hot july night brought forth an unknown challenger 1966 Chevelle owned by a man I had never met. When I saw him, I was overwhelmed by the feeling I KNEW him from some where. As the money negotiations began, of course my personal attack sluts went to look and admire his car, still on its trailer. Shortly thereafter.......She came to me rather frantic...unusual for her. I had trained her what to look for.....she reported that the car was what we termed a "Sledge hammer". That means a hand fabricated race chassis, with the Chevelle body fitted to it. Also of intrest...the chevy had TWO five gallon fuel cells. I would later learn the terrible truth why. Me, I was as over confident as ever, spending my pre race time trying to see just how many women I really pile into a King size bed all at once. I had 7 lined up by race time. I did my usual stretch and yawn act before putting on my NOMEX ( fire proof suit) and getting in the car. The Driver /owner of the Chevelle, "John" introduced himself to me, and told me he was a big fan of mine.....then I realized how I knew him. He had attended EVERY race War Snake 3 had Run in....wierd, a male groupie. Likely an ass pirate. I said to him, "John, I have good news and bad news...The bad news is you are about to get your ass handed to you. The good news is that it will be by a living legend". We lined up, the flag dropped, I did my usual stunt of giving the "Shocker sign out of the drivers window between the 1st to second gear up shift, as I watched the Chevelle pull a car length ahead. I cussed just a bit, and dumped ? stages of nitrous, getting me closer, closer..........until the finish line. The spotters on both sides called it a tie....only one thing to do, run again. I was smoking a cigarette on the return trip to the starting line....my giant ego ever eating at the buffet of my pride. By this point..I was feeling new feelings.....doubt, frustration, maybe even fear. We had run 3 races. War Snake had a five gallon fuel cell.....and used over a gallon a pass, and was fueled by a ?/? mixture of cam 2 racing fuel and Nitro methane. NOT available at the local Sunoco. Worse yet, the intake temperature of the turbo's was hovering at 600 degrees.....far beyond what they were designed for. Ant the icing on the cake......The pressure gauges for the ? Nitrous bottles was WAY down.....despite having bottle heaters to increase the tank pressure, it was only at 450 psi, half the ideal pressure. I didn't smoke on the return ride for race four...and worse yet, my group of devoted Uber whores had turned off the ghetto blaster they always brought....to play the Queen Classic, "Another one bites the dust". As I side stepped the clutch launch on race four, the stench of burning clutch lining inside the car was overwhelming, the turbos had started making the tell tale sign of "Crack , Crack, Crack " as their cases began to seperate.......and race four was another tie. I shut the engine off at the end of race 4, Street race rules dictated there were no ties.....but nothing said I had to DRIVE the car back to the start line. I rode on the fender on the return, with three friends pushing, I unbolted the ( Mega buck) carbon fiber hood and threw it in a ditch, hoping to vent some of the ungodly heat. Since the car used electric fans, they continued to run, Clearing enough steam to see the horror before me. The left side turbo was glowing red....the right side had split completely apart, thus making any if little boost. The intercooler had ruptured.....bleeding anti freeze like crazy....and coolant was actually boiling out from in between the block and heads. The front oil seal had actually melted......I had a terrible choice to make. If I continued to run the free standing electric cooling system, the water pump would empty the system before we reached the start line. The oil leak was a fatal wound, bleeding about a quart every 45 seconds from the ? quart oiling system. there were two other minor problems.....The nitrous pressure gauges read "0"...and the electric fuel pumps were making a terrible clatter, meaning they had almost run the 5 gallon cell dry. I had maybe 1/2 a gallon in the cell, plus what was in the lines. As I returned to start what would be the last race........I had a great deal of difficulty getting my car to start. This was due to the battery being weakened by bearing the load of running the electric cooling system.....and the fact the motor was beginning to seize due to oil starvation. I remembered my immortal beloved's words at that moment. Had I not been showing off and giving "Shocker hand signs when I should have been shifting, I would have won on the first race. My pride and Ego were my undoing......the hunter had become the hunted...and the master had become the servant. ( Remember he had TWO fuel cells for some odd reason?). He had been studying me and my car...and found the fatal weakness, war snake was a sprinter, not a marathon runner. The flag dropped, I felt the clutch shatter under my feet, followed shortly by a spectacular fire and light show as the mighty war snake engine died in a blaze of glory. A 1/4 mile race is 1,320 feet.....War Snake 3's death occurred at the 600 foot mark...... The chevelle leisurely drove by me at about 30 mph.............it had happened. I lost. A quick foot note ...according to the producers of "Pinks", my opponent for the show is the same "John", with the same sledge hammer Chevelle. We tried it once your way, Kahn, are you game for a re-match? Free Jail Bait t shirt to the first person to correctly identify which movie that came from. THE END...........for now |
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