On Wednesday I picked up Tom Cate in Indianapolis and we headed up to see Dr. Allan Uzwiak (AllanSLC) in Chester, CT. Tom was going to be my build partner on my car, but health problems put the kibosh on that, thus my decision to get Allan on board. We went up there to see his work and discuss my September build. Tom currently has some cracked ribs, so I made sure to tell lots of jokes on the ride up to Connecticut...
I was driving my 1996 Infiniti Q45 that needs shocks and an alignment, so on rough roads it felt like I was driving a swing axle car. We got 24MPG at 75MPH, so I can't complain too much.
Like a real dick-brain, I let my GPS dictate our route, and it sent us through NYC with narrow lanes and aggressive semi drivers doing 10MPH over the limit 20' off our rear bumper. I vowed to map out a better path for our return.
Chester, CT is a gorgeous community of smooth, narrow, winding roads through the woods dotted with elegant historic wood-framed homes, many of which I suspect are over 200 years old. I went to college in rural Massachusetts, but this place was an order of magnitude more impressive in terms of ambiance and history.
We drove around a shared lake and were greeted by Allan's two dogs, Shelby and Jasmine. It was obvious that no one ever pets them because they both kept rubbing up against us and nuzzling our hands. I went to the trunk of my car and got two pig ears from a bag that I keep there for such occasions.
Then Allan came out and introduced himself. He is a trim, soft spoken man who instantly put these two overweight, slovenly midwesterners at ease. He opened the door to his garage and I stared at the back end of Yos' LS9-powered SLC that he had just finished.
Oh. My. God.
Visible through the rear plexiglas was an engine compartment stuffed with supercharged fury and stainless welding porn. The paint color, set off beautifully by the black trim around the window, was an emerald metallic green that was an option on Camaros a couple of years back called Synergy Green. In this case it should be called "Fire-breathing fucking dragon green." Absolutely gorgeous.
The three of us discussed various things I hoped could be accomplished with my build. It appeared that none of my wants were particularly unusual, and most were simpler than what other customers had chosen. We did decide that the electric door option would prevent ham-handed passengers from screwing up the mechanical latches, so I agreed to those.
We then drove over to look at Allan's personal SLC, Viper blue with silver stripes. There are many pictures of it in the photo thread on this site. It is powered by a stock LS376/480 crate motor hooked to a Ricardo transaxle. After showing us all the details, Allan looked at me and said, "Want to see if you can squeeze yourself in the passenger seat for a ride?"
Challenge accepted!
At this point I must digress from the tale of our Connecticut trip and address an issue that comes up time and again from potential SLC customers: The question of Will I Fit In It?
Fran insists that the SLC will fit almost anyone, and cites cases of very tall drivers 6' 7" or so being able to drive the car. What he DOESN'T tell you is that all these tall people he knows are tall because they have extremely long legs and normal length torsos. This works out great as the SLC has an EXTREMELY long foot box. He also tells everyone he makes a "Gentleman's Seat" that is 2" or so wider than standard, for customers who are heavier than what he considers average.
This is like saying he has a seat appropriate for retired jockeys that have put on 20 or so pounds since their horse racing days. Fran needs to invite the offensive line of the Detroit Lions to come to his shop and see what it would take to get one of them comfortable in his car...
Anyway, back to the Connecticut visit. Allan's blue SLC is set up with seats for a driver and passenger that are about 5' 8" tall. Fortunately, they are normal cloth car seats and not hard shells with sides. I managed to get my 6' tall frame (with 28" inseam) into the car eventually. I have a 44" waist, 56" chest, and a bad right leg, so I had to take off my right shoe to get my size 13EEEEEE foot through the door and into the footwell. The small of my back was on the front edge of the seat. My position in the car was very similar to what you see with Winter Olympics competitors in the Luge event. I am not exaggerating here. (BTW my feet still didn't reach the end of the footwell. It really IS that long...)
Allan hopped in, fired the car up, and off we went.
Additional vibration from the solid mounted engine? None. Rattles? Nope. The car seemed to track like a slot car with no hint of roll. Then Allan nailed it a few times for a second or two in 2nd or 3rd gear and the car launched without a hint of wheelspin. This was goooood...
Allan looked over at me as we exited a turn onto a 200-yard straight, and I must have been grinning like an idiot because the look on his face changed and he was no longer Dr. Uzwiak. He became, for a brief moment, Dr. Jeckyll, and then he was pure Mr. Edward Hyde. A little voice seemed to come from the engine compartment saying, "C'mon, let's gooooo..." and the throttle was suddenly on the floor.
This time, it wasn't just for a second or two.
As the right-hand turn loomed ahead, I glanced at the speedo, and then the hand-of-God brakes hauled the SLC back to reality. Dr. Uzwiak was once again driving the car. We motored back to the garage space where we had left Tom. You couldn't get the grin off my face with a crowbar.
A few years ago, a fellow jokingly asked me if I'd ever managed to triple the posted limit on a public road. I thought a minute and said yes, that I'd done that a few times on some of the 200+ HP motorcycles I'd owned.
Let's just say that after this past Friday, I now know what 4.4 times the speed limit feels like.
Below is a depiction of what I imagine it must be like to be a psychiatric patient of Allan's...
I was driving my 1996 Infiniti Q45 that needs shocks and an alignment, so on rough roads it felt like I was driving a swing axle car. We got 24MPG at 75MPH, so I can't complain too much.
Like a real dick-brain, I let my GPS dictate our route, and it sent us through NYC with narrow lanes and aggressive semi drivers doing 10MPH over the limit 20' off our rear bumper. I vowed to map out a better path for our return.
Chester, CT is a gorgeous community of smooth, narrow, winding roads through the woods dotted with elegant historic wood-framed homes, many of which I suspect are over 200 years old. I went to college in rural Massachusetts, but this place was an order of magnitude more impressive in terms of ambiance and history.
We drove around a shared lake and were greeted by Allan's two dogs, Shelby and Jasmine. It was obvious that no one ever pets them because they both kept rubbing up against us and nuzzling our hands. I went to the trunk of my car and got two pig ears from a bag that I keep there for such occasions.
Then Allan came out and introduced himself. He is a trim, soft spoken man who instantly put these two overweight, slovenly midwesterners at ease. He opened the door to his garage and I stared at the back end of Yos' LS9-powered SLC that he had just finished.
Oh. My. God.
Visible through the rear plexiglas was an engine compartment stuffed with supercharged fury and stainless welding porn. The paint color, set off beautifully by the black trim around the window, was an emerald metallic green that was an option on Camaros a couple of years back called Synergy Green. In this case it should be called "Fire-breathing fucking dragon green." Absolutely gorgeous.
The three of us discussed various things I hoped could be accomplished with my build. It appeared that none of my wants were particularly unusual, and most were simpler than what other customers had chosen. We did decide that the electric door option would prevent ham-handed passengers from screwing up the mechanical latches, so I agreed to those.
We then drove over to look at Allan's personal SLC, Viper blue with silver stripes. There are many pictures of it in the photo thread on this site. It is powered by a stock LS376/480 crate motor hooked to a Ricardo transaxle. After showing us all the details, Allan looked at me and said, "Want to see if you can squeeze yourself in the passenger seat for a ride?"
Challenge accepted!
At this point I must digress from the tale of our Connecticut trip and address an issue that comes up time and again from potential SLC customers: The question of Will I Fit In It?
Fran insists that the SLC will fit almost anyone, and cites cases of very tall drivers 6' 7" or so being able to drive the car. What he DOESN'T tell you is that all these tall people he knows are tall because they have extremely long legs and normal length torsos. This works out great as the SLC has an EXTREMELY long foot box. He also tells everyone he makes a "Gentleman's Seat" that is 2" or so wider than standard, for customers who are heavier than what he considers average.
This is like saying he has a seat appropriate for retired jockeys that have put on 20 or so pounds since their horse racing days. Fran needs to invite the offensive line of the Detroit Lions to come to his shop and see what it would take to get one of them comfortable in his car...
Anyway, back to the Connecticut visit. Allan's blue SLC is set up with seats for a driver and passenger that are about 5' 8" tall. Fortunately, they are normal cloth car seats and not hard shells with sides. I managed to get my 6' tall frame (with 28" inseam) into the car eventually. I have a 44" waist, 56" chest, and a bad right leg, so I had to take off my right shoe to get my size 13EEEEEE foot through the door and into the footwell. The small of my back was on the front edge of the seat. My position in the car was very similar to what you see with Winter Olympics competitors in the Luge event. I am not exaggerating here. (BTW my feet still didn't reach the end of the footwell. It really IS that long...)
Allan hopped in, fired the car up, and off we went.
Additional vibration from the solid mounted engine? None. Rattles? Nope. The car seemed to track like a slot car with no hint of roll. Then Allan nailed it a few times for a second or two in 2nd or 3rd gear and the car launched without a hint of wheelspin. This was goooood...
Allan looked over at me as we exited a turn onto a 200-yard straight, and I must have been grinning like an idiot because the look on his face changed and he was no longer Dr. Uzwiak. He became, for a brief moment, Dr. Jeckyll, and then he was pure Mr. Edward Hyde. A little voice seemed to come from the engine compartment saying, "C'mon, let's gooooo..." and the throttle was suddenly on the floor.
This time, it wasn't just for a second or two.
As the right-hand turn loomed ahead, I glanced at the speedo, and then the hand-of-God brakes hauled the SLC back to reality. Dr. Uzwiak was once again driving the car. We motored back to the garage space where we had left Tom. You couldn't get the grin off my face with a crowbar.
A few years ago, a fellow jokingly asked me if I'd ever managed to triple the posted limit on a public road. I thought a minute and said yes, that I'd done that a few times on some of the 200+ HP motorcycles I'd owned.
Let's just say that after this past Friday, I now know what 4.4 times the speed limit feels like.
Below is a depiction of what I imagine it must be like to be a psychiatric patient of Allan's...
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