Everyone tells of the ones they won, here is one of the worst times I have ever been beat. I had a friend in high school that was a ford guy. He was a cool loner, very popular guy that very much reminds me of John Milner in American Graffetti. In high school, he had a pumpkin orange 57 ford Fairlane that he raced anyone that would challenge him. The hot set up then was a 57 Chevy 283 bored to 301. Everyone was scared of those 301's, but he just ate up all comers. He traded cars while I was in college and when I came home he had a 64 Falcon sprint. It was a cool car with 260 badges, and it some how carried on his reputation. By then he was known for 50 miles around as never been beaten. It was fall of 1967 and I ordered and got a new 68 barracuda with 3:23 sure grip 4 speed and a 318. I got home from college and ran into him in town on Saturday night. He was at the local gas station hanging out just exactly like a John Milner would have been. When I pulled in, he gave me some crap about my new barracuda. I said ok we used to push each other all the time in high school, I have never raced you, so tonight is the night. He didn't want to but after some crap from me in front of the locals, he opened the trunk and tossed out a couple of 4 speed transmissions and a clutch and said "lets go." We have a clover leaf inter section on two highways that cross in the country and one side has a long truck lane on it. That gives two lanes to race on for a perfect measured quarter mile. It was fall and pretty chilly, the local high school crowd gathered, while he did a few "tweeks" to his car. We lined up and took off, his being cold (and non stock) jumped and died on the line. I took the clover leaf and came back around. "Cold engine lets run again". So we did and the same thing happened. I came back around and said ok this is the third time and cold engine or not I am going to win if that thing dies. You Loose! This time we took off and I power shifted all that 318 had. Like before, the Falcon jumped and died on the line. Believe it or not, then he actually started that Falcon again and blew my doors off about 50 yards from end of the quarter! All I remember seeing in the rear view mirror was the pavement on fire under that Falcon lit up from the open headers. The next day I stopped at his place and said ok, I have to see the engine. He would never open his hood for anyone in the past, but being an old friend he finally did for me. To my amazement it was a solid lifter full race Cobra 289 under the hood. He just smiled and said "you loose". A couple years later, he came home completely messed up from Vietnam and I never heard where that Falcon ended up. He now resides staring out the window here in the local rest home at age 58.
