We headed back to the cars to prepare for the trip. Boone had already changed out his slicks, and loaded most of the stuff going in his car, we were starting to get a pretty good routine going. He grabbed his and Dale's bottles, and headed to Monte's trailer. I hooked the pump to my Goodyears to bring them back up to driving pressure, then re-installed my breather, and started loading bags behind the roll cage in the back-seat area.
Dale was working on changing out the slicks, and then crawled further under the car to inspect something, I heard him mutter a curseword, then a slow laugh. He crawled back out with a funny look on his face.
"What's wrong under there", Darren beat me to the question.
"When I launched on the 2nd pass, I heard something weird. The top shock bolt came out and the shock is resting against the frame, pinching off the fuel line...No wander it kept laying over every pass after that"!
Boone came back empty handed, "Monte was loading everything up, getting ready to leave, he said he'll have them ready at Tulsa".
"I think I'm gonna change my oil", I decided.
"Good Idea, 400 miles ahead of us", Dale agreed, with an affirmative head shake from Boone. I had ordered Lucas oil before the event, and had it shipped to OK., but I told them to hold off on changing it because I was sure I had just changed it before the driveshaft failure. They were all in agreement I should have changed it before we left.
I took out the plug, and 5 1/2 quarts of the most vile, black disgusting stuff poured into the pan...it had the viscousity of chicken broth, it seriously looked to have zero lubricating qualities whatsoever.
"How many passes were on that engine", Boone asked with raised eyebrows.
"100 or so".
"That's the freaking break-in oil"! Dale laughed, "You tightwad, lazy bum".
"Really guys, I swear..."
"Save it", Darren cut me off, "You should be kicked"!
New filter, and 8 quarts of 20/50, and the smallblock purred to life. We stopped to get gas at a station 2 miles from the track, amid a throng of other DragWeekers.
"We finally get to run with everyone else," Darren was excited. We did the big-gulp exchange as we crawled over the side bars..you don't get in with your hands full, just doesn't work!
We drove the 10 miles to I-40 with Darren intently watching the guages, the temp did it's usuall steady climb until hit 180, then it just stopped. Darren glared at me, "15 lbs. more oil pressure and 180 degrees...you are scum, this ole girl deserves better"!