I was requested to post a picture of our car, so here it is! I thought I had some better ones, but late last night when I remembered, I wasn't able to find more than a few from a drag race we went to several years ago. Those of you looking closely will see the hood is open. That's because the race had been run and Hubs was driving it back to the pits and was letting the engine cool. (Yes, that is my husband driving the car.)
In the interest of full disclosure I will now explain why I don't drive this car. It isn't because of my husband. It is because of guilt. Guilt and shame. Okay, guilt, shame and fear. Curious? One of my non-blogging friends in the real world who reads my blog (hi Susan!) will recognize this confession and can verify it is all painfully, shamefully, true.
Many years ago (in a land far, far, away)… no, that's another story.
A long time ago, shortly after Hubs had gotten the car and fixed it up somewhat, a bunch of my women-friends decided to have a get-together at one of their homes. We were all bringing munchies and cold beverages and conducting our own version of a stress management meeting. I decided to bring a melty-hot cheese dip – in my crock-pot. Hubs very sweetly let me drive the GN that evening with the promise I'd be very careful… and, knowing I had dip in the trunk, there would be no 'hole shots'.
Fast forward to picking up my friend (same one as named above) and carefully driving to the party. Basking in the oooing and ahhhing of my friends over Hubs' car, I started to unload my things. I pop the trunk latch to a horror fest. Yes, you all beat me to the punch line. The cheese dip had spilled. Panic. This couldn't be happening! I drove so carefully! How the hell did this happen? Worse yet, how was I going to fix it? The woman of the house brought out paper towels and cleaning solutions and I started to clean it out, but it was too much… waaaay too much.
Bright idea? Car wash! Yeah! That would do it! (I hear the collective groan from here. Trust me, I'm MUCH smarter now. I was young, dumb, and completely scatterbrained with panic.) I debated telling Hubs about it, then realized he would have to know. Bracing myself, I called him. Unfortunately, I was already at the car wash and my friend and I had already started power washing the trunk.
Bless his ever-lovin' heart, he didn't yell once.
The next day the sun was shining and it was warm out and he set the car outside with the trunk liner out, the doors open and tried to let it all air out and dry out. It helped, but didn't really solve the problem. Hubs ended up having to take the seats out and do some major cleaning to get the cheese all out.
The good news? He got a beautiful liner for his trunk… the ones with the GN logo that go in the trunk lid and make it all pretty so when you go to the local drive-in restaurants' "hot rod" night you can open up the trunk for viewing (as well as the hood to see all the chrom-y stuff, you know, engine and all)… and who knew that dryer sheets tucked under the seats could make the inside smell all better?
He always tells me this is "our" car, but really… it's his. I've learned my lesson. Cheese and Grand Nats just don't mix. No matter how many 'hole shots' you don't make.
**Update** Because you asked, I talked to my husband and got the "stats". It does 11.4 in a quarter mile at 120 mph. He's guessing it goes faster than that (high 10's), but that was the official time the last time he went to the track. He no longer takes it to the drag strip… since our son started racing circle track he finds the drag racing rather boring.