First Drive
Saturday, January 19. Crisp, clear day. About 40 degrees. Pavement dry. We had just finished installing the headers the evening before; the very last item on the list before it was road ready. Time for the Ryan and me to take our first drive after more than six months of rebuilding the GT and see how the new shocks, springs, engine, Webers, and gauges performed.
First stop: the Shell gas station to top off the two tanks with some 93 octane. Pulled up and started to fill the passenger side tank when a fellow comes by and asks the usual questions. Nice enough guy who was genuinely impressed and appreciated the information we shared with him.
The hose won't reach across the front clip, so when the right tank was full the transaction was concluded, receipt generated, then started up and moved the GT to the other side of the same pump so the process could be repeated for the driver's side tank. Half way through filling it an old Chevy pick up, with deteriorating white paint, pulls up close. The driver lowers his window. A lad, perhaps around 30, wearing a knit multi pastel colored cap with the remnants of a tassel on top, the ties hanging along side his full red beard, is driving. He says almost nothing about the GT, but proceeds to share his experience with his mid 70's Vette that he is restoring. Got the engine done and is getting ready to paint it. "It is white. Hate white. That is a trailer trash color. Don't you agree. Going to paint it black. Don't you agree?" Looking at his selection of head gear and the color of paint on the conveyance he was occupying, I was not sure how to answer, so a noncommittal nod of the head was about as much response I deemed appropriate. I feigned being preoccupied with the fuel level in the tank and he started to drive away, yelling when he reached the other side of the gas station "so you think white is a trailer trash color?" We got our second receipt and headed for the road.
Out on the Interstate, Ryan driving, cruising in reasonable proximity to the legal speed limit, a small older Subaru, white in color as I recall, pulled up alongside, matching our speed for a bit. Presumably that was his girlfriend in the passenger seat. Then he down shifted his automatic and darted ahead of us. It had one of those big rice burner tail pipes that made a rattly sound we could just hear over the melody of our own power plant as he buried the right pedal. We were so impressed. I am sure his girlfriend was too.
About five miles after exiting the interstate we pulled up to a red stop light. Even at idle the roar of nearly 500 horses just behind the seat and straight exhaust makes casual conversation with the person rubbing shoulders alongside a challenge. So when an older model car pulled up alongside and rolled down the window to engage in conversation we had to wonder: what trailer court did they come from? But their car was faded red, not white. Watching the lips of the girl in the passenger seat it looked like she was saying "What is it." Could have been "You eat shit" for all I know. Ryan and I looked back and simultaneously lipped "GT40". She nodded, as if she understood. Yea, sure.
You meet the most interesting people driving a GT 40!