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Super 88
It was a nice spring day, Friday around 3 pm., mid 70's, low humidity, and that sweet smell of flowers drifted through the air. We had about 2 more weeks till school ended, only half of us had been able to get into college, and we worried about getting that draft card in the mail. But we didn't let it bother us. Graduation was close, prom was in the works, and we had a weekend of drag racing planned. Waiting for the weekend began as a small irritation in the middle of your back to a full fledge biting itch we couldn't get too fast enough by Friday, we had to race! Waiting for the last bell of the day was like watching the tree count down, when it rang we saw green and ran for our cars. I hit the gas once, turned the key, and listened to my trip's belch and the 371 fire. She rumbled so nice, -got to love a '57 Olds Super 88's rumble.
I rushed to get out of the parking lot and got cut off by one of the rich jocks in his brand new 1965 GTO. I locked up my brakes and almost slid into him. My buddy in the passenger seat yelled out the window every profanity he could think of. This of course was returned from the guys in the Goat. He lit up his tires and shot out onto State Rd. and I made it a point that he wasn't getting away from my Olds.
We both hit the next light side-by-side and the cussing kept going. I kept quiet watching the light. I had to concentrate. My plan was to jump him off the line, cut him a new ass, and lock the brakes up in front of him. I wasn't worried if he hit me, his little tin Goat would crumple on all my chrome.
The light went green and from the mutual screaming of polyglass tires and the roar of mills it was apparent he had the same idea. He pulled a fender on me and I heard him slap 2nd gear with a squawk of his tires. A few seconds later I returned the favor and now he was in trouble, I hit the torque curve of my J2 heads and got flung past him. I rammed 3rd as my back bumper passed his front and was rewarded by two things, a pretty little squawk of my tires, and a Parma City Cop pointing at me from the deli parking lot as we roared past.
Tom, my friend in the car next to me finally stopped leaning out the window yelling at the jocks. He had this slight look of "aw shit" on his face, but then he noticed I wasn't slowing down, I still had my foot in it.
He looked at me and smiled. I watched the jerk in the Goat brake hard and the cop was behind him. I just started to relax when Tom pointed out the cop sitting further up the road waiting for us.
It took me 2 seconds to think about it........hmmmm........not today!
I jammed on the brakes, threw a down shift, turned hard into the side street right in front of the cop, and yelled to Tom, "Smile and wave!" The cop stood there in disbelief as 2 idiots in a yellow Super 88, tires screaming around a corner waving and smiling like fools. I came out of the corner with all 4 tires screaming about an inch off the curb. Tom was watching the cop, "He's coming after us Tim!" I already knew this but nodded anyway. It was going to take him a little bit to catch up to us, but he WAS faster. It was very common those days for the cop cars to have wild multi-carb, water injection, full race cammed setups.
I knew I had a better chance of loosing him if I kept zig-zagging through the side streets. Cram a left, crank a right, wave at kids watching in awe, shut down for a dog, another right.....Where did the cop go? I lost him in my mirrors, I started to laugh, "We made it!" I yelled. Tom responded, "No you didn't, look!" Tom was pointing out the side window up the intersecting side streets, next block over, running the same direction as us, was the cop. And he was going faster. At every intersection I'd look up the street and see him a little further ahead, "Tom, get his attention!" It didn't take long for Tom to figure out a way to get the cops attention, next side street Tom was hanging out the window at 90 MPH flipping the cop a double bird and calling him things I'd never heard of before. I remember well the look that cop gave us, we actually made eye contact in that brief amount of time, he was determined to catch us, and Tom just made it worse, he was probably going to beat us to death when he caught us.
But I knew something the cop obviously didn't.
His street dead-ended.
I will remember, for the rest of my life, the scream of his tires and the sick down shifting over-rev roar his motor made, then the scream of metal on metal as he tore through a cyclone fence into the school yard his street dead-ended into.
Yes, we got away. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, the cop was ok, local paper had it in the blotter. Back in those days, when you got away, you got away!
It was a nice spring day, Friday around 3 pm., mid 70's, low humidity, and that sweet smell of flowers drifted through the air. We had about 2 more weeks till school ended, only half of us had been able to get into college, and we worried about getting that draft card in the mail. But we didn't let it bother us. Graduation was close, prom was in the works, and we had a weekend of drag racing planned. Waiting for the weekend began as a small irritation in the middle of your back to a full fledge biting itch we couldn't get too fast enough by Friday, we had to race! Waiting for the last bell of the day was like watching the tree count down, when it rang we saw green and ran for our cars. I hit the gas once, turned the key, and listened to my trip's belch and the 371 fire. She rumbled so nice, -got to love a '57 Olds Super 88's rumble.
I rushed to get out of the parking lot and got cut off by one of the rich jocks in his brand new 1965 GTO. I locked up my brakes and almost slid into him. My buddy in the passenger seat yelled out the window every profanity he could think of. This of course was returned from the guys in the Goat. He lit up his tires and shot out onto State Rd. and I made it a point that he wasn't getting away from my Olds.
We both hit the next light side-by-side and the cussing kept going. I kept quiet watching the light. I had to concentrate. My plan was to jump him off the line, cut him a new ass, and lock the brakes up in front of him. I wasn't worried if he hit me, his little tin Goat would crumple on all my chrome.
The light went green and from the mutual screaming of polyglass tires and the roar of mills it was apparent he had the same idea. He pulled a fender on me and I heard him slap 2nd gear with a squawk of his tires. A few seconds later I returned the favor and now he was in trouble, I hit the torque curve of my J2 heads and got flung past him. I rammed 3rd as my back bumper passed his front and was rewarded by two things, a pretty little squawk of my tires, and a Parma City Cop pointing at me from the deli parking lot as we roared past.
Tom, my friend in the car next to me finally stopped leaning out the window yelling at the jocks. He had this slight look of "aw shit" on his face, but then he noticed I wasn't slowing down, I still had my foot in it.
He looked at me and smiled. I watched the jerk in the Goat brake hard and the cop was behind him. I just started to relax when Tom pointed out the cop sitting further up the road waiting for us.
It took me 2 seconds to think about it........hmmmm........not today!
I jammed on the brakes, threw a down shift, turned hard into the side street right in front of the cop, and yelled to Tom, "Smile and wave!" The cop stood there in disbelief as 2 idiots in a yellow Super 88, tires screaming around a corner waving and smiling like fools. I came out of the corner with all 4 tires screaming about an inch off the curb. Tom was watching the cop, "He's coming after us Tim!" I already knew this but nodded anyway. It was going to take him a little bit to catch up to us, but he WAS faster. It was very common those days for the cop cars to have wild multi-carb, water injection, full race cammed setups.
I knew I had a better chance of loosing him if I kept zig-zagging through the side streets. Cram a left, crank a right, wave at kids watching in awe, shut down for a dog, another right.....Where did the cop go? I lost him in my mirrors, I started to laugh, "We made it!" I yelled. Tom responded, "No you didn't, look!" Tom was pointing out the side window up the intersecting side streets, next block over, running the same direction as us, was the cop. And he was going faster. At every intersection I'd look up the street and see him a little further ahead, "Tom, get his attention!" It didn't take long for Tom to figure out a way to get the cops attention, next side street Tom was hanging out the window at 90 MPH flipping the cop a double bird and calling him things I'd never heard of before. I remember well the look that cop gave us, we actually made eye contact in that brief amount of time, he was determined to catch us, and Tom just made it worse, he was probably going to beat us to death when he caught us.
But I knew something the cop obviously didn't.
His street dead-ended.
I will remember, for the rest of my life, the scream of his tires and the sick down shifting over-rev roar his motor made, then the scream of metal on metal as he tore through a cyclone fence into the school yard his street dead-ended into.
Yes, we got away. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, the cop was ok, local paper had it in the blotter. Back in those days, when you got away, you got away!
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