At 1:35pm Monday afternoon, I finally pulled the Valiant into the right lane water box at Cordova Dragway. I had just watched Terry Keifer make a 10.74-129 mph pass down that lane on his second hit of the day with his 67 Barracuda, and now I was just hoping for a good clean pass as well. I slid the Turbo Action shifter into neutral after a solid burnout and purged the nitrous into the engine twice, it sounded nice and crisp, so I moved the t-handle to low and rested my thumb over the button. Fire-proof gloves and a neck collar are the bane of running under ten flat, and while I'm sure I'd love them if anything ever went wrong, the loss of feel in my hands and less range for head movement increases my nervousness behind the wheel. I was running over my routine in my head as I inched the Valiant into the beams, it had been nine months since I made a nitrous pass in the car, and now I needed it to go perfect if I was to leave here with a representative number.

I left on the footbrake, presumably so I could get on the nitrous quicker, but I was nearly at the sixty foot clocks before I did so, and when I finally did grab the button, I accidentally shifted to second at the same time. Frustrated with my mistake and what I felt was a terminally slow launch, I hung second gear out too long and tapped the rev limiter a couple of times before the shift. The sound an engine makes when it does that on spray is disconcerting to say the least, and the corresponding nose over put a lump in my throat, but she was pulling hard in drive all the way to the stripe with the shift light on the last two hundred feet so the mph didn't seem to suffer. The ease at which the Plymouth pulled down to make the turn off made me wish I had purchased those new rear discs years ago, definitely an improvement.
I was so disappointed with myself and the driving job I had done that I questioned whether or not it was a nine on the drive up the return road to the time slip shack.
"I'm going to be in the same boat as Boone, heading back to the lanes for another attempt to keep my dreams of an all nine second week alive", I thought to myself. I opened the driver's door as I pulled up to get my time slip, and stuck my gloved hand out, palm up, over the top of the window frame. The attendant stuck the crumpled slip into my palm and I closed my fingers around it as I idled off towards the pits. I held the slip in front of my helmet until I located my ET and MPH at the bottom: 9.602-138.4, the quickest and fastest pass the little Valiant has ever made since it first traversed the quarter mile in the late 80's!
"You bailed the fat guy out again ole girl", I laughed and patted the dash as I rolled into our pit spot to a thumbs up and a smile from Rachael.
"One and done", I told her as I opened the door and handed her the time slip. "Are you ready to go up and make a pass?" I asked her, since we had paid an extra fifty bucks to get her a drivers arm band.
She quickly shook her head, "I'd rather drive it on the street and get used to it that way before I actually make a pass, so I'll wait until later in the week".