My first "real" street race was in the summer of 1972. Had my Chrysler [1959] and a '59 El Camino. Elky started life as 348/3 on the tree. I stuffed a 400 HP 409 and a 4-gear into it, along with a 61 Impala rear, with 3.70 Posi.

Was driving home from my G/F's house at about 11:30, and I got jumped by a '66 Nova at a light.

Firewalled the 409, blew past the Nova in second and in third, he was a length and a half behind - but, the next light was approaching. I stopped a the light, he blew the light. Cop in parking lot, Nova nailed. I still grin when I think of it.

Last "real" street race was in 1996, on the way to Bakersfield, CA, with wifey and kids. On I-40, just west of Santa Rosa, NM. About 2:30 AM, cruising about 65, radio on, wifey and kids snuggled up, beautiful full moon. Doesn't get any better than a BB Mopar burbling along in the moonlight.

A guy in a '63 Impala pulled alongside, stayed even for a bit. Saw him laugh in the instrument lights of his car, and he pulled away, shaking his head and waving. I probably came close to bending the steering wheel...but, wifey and kids were curled up, asleep...

About the time all that was flashing through my mind, the wifey - without opening her eyes, I think, said "just blow him off the road. You know you can and want to." I couldn't believe it!

Off we went. I passed him at about 80, rapidly gaining speed. Wifey was sitting straight up, by then, kids still curled up in the back.

Guy gave chase, wifey watched his headlights shrink out of the back window. Said "why is our car smoking?" Wasn't our car...glanced in the mirror...Impala was smoking bad. His lights dimmed, he hit the shoulder.

Wifey said "Serves him right for waking me up," and went back to sleep.