My need for speed

I have always liked to go fast. Its in my DNA plain and simple. The Texas Department of Transportation has been funded by this genetic fault.

My first encounter with my speed fetish was with my bicycle. Being poor I couldn't afford anything fancy like a ten speed, but I did have a three speed.

I would pass slow moving cars. It was big shit to pass a car on your bike. The next step up was my first car.

I owned a 1967 SS 396 Malibu. I drove it like a maniac. It didn't run fast enough so I bought another engine and drove it even more maniacal. I started college and had to settle down, and then I owned a '65 Chevrolet Bel air.

I wouldn't accelerate very fast, but would top out at 105. So I drove it 105 almost everywhere I could. One day a highway patrolman stopped me for doing 105. The narrow minded SOB gave me a ticket. I soon got tired of not accelerating and solved the problem by buying a 1969 Z-28 Camaro. That little bastard would accelerate.

The DZ-302 was one of the finest engines Chevrolet ever made. My dad and I tinkered with it, and it was a blast. I once raced against a Hemi Barracuda with a 426 cubic inch engine and two four barrel carbs. The Chevy had 302 cubic inches and a single carb. Since the race was so lopsided, I talked him into giving me a two-car length spot. We took off, and I was ahead by quite a bit. I let off the gas and let him catch up but not win.

The dude was all embarrassed that the little Chevy had won. He asked for a rematch, only this time without the spot. Being the fair-minded SOB that I am, I let him have the rematch. We took off and all he saw was taillights. I then decided to only drive it on the drag strip. The little Chevy that could ran the quarter mile in 11.67 seconds at 119mph. Wow.

Alas, it was too much car for a college kid. So I parked it and drove my dad's truck. It was a 1973 Chevy Super Cheyenne with a 454 four barrel. I drove it like a mad man.

The coup d'état happened one night on a return run to College Station. Another narrow minded highway patrolman stopped me for doing 110. If that wasn't bad enough, another narrowed minded College Station cop gave me a ticket on the same night. So two tickets in one night. That weekend on the return trip to home, I'll be damned if another narrow minded turd gave me another tickets. Three tickets in one week. That was enough for even my hard-headed ass.

I started dating my future wife that summer and calmed down.