To start out, my dad was under the impression(may still be)that drag racing was boring, required no skill. He won a pro-solo class in the local sports car club 3 years in a row in a bone stock Subaru wagon. So ralleys and going around cones were what interested him. That said, I had no concept of what "fast" was. I knew that I loved Dodge, because I grew up with this car in the barn, and I loved looking at it.

Since I had no concept of speed, although I always dreamed of going fast while reading my brother's subscription to Hot Rod, when I got my first vehicle, I stuck headers, a dual feed Holley and a homemade dual exhaust system on it. It was loud, had a clutch, would burn the tires, and actually could outrun a lot of kids at school. (Probe GT, etc. It was much nicer back then.)

For the longest time I thought it was hot. But around my Jr. year in high school, this Satellite started screaming up the road past my house.


I lusted after that car for a long time. Talked to the owner at a car wash, just as he put it up for sale. Found it in the Auto Trader. Passed it on the way home from school. Finally, I actually called him up and decided to take a look at it.
Well, folks, that's when I figured out I had NO idea what fast was. It set me back in the passenger seat and when he chirped second I knew I was hooked. I know that car ran 13.15 at National Trail in the mid to late '80's with very much '70's tech on and in it. The guy who gave me the ride had shaved a full second off the 1/8 mile time at Pacemakers before he sold it. (Not to me) I was hooked. I was obsessed. I tracked the car.I talked the owner into financing it for me. I finally bought it. It was the first hotrod/muscle car I ever owned. It was the first/only muscle car I ever wrecked. But it left plenty of impact on me.
Wow. That got long.