First Drive
If a whopping two miles counts, that is.
After receiving the car from RCR in early July, it was discovered that a few items slipped past their typical careful eye to detail. While some of these things really have me scratching my head as to how they were overlooked, no one's perfect (least of all me) and these things will happen. After a few weeks of waiting for parts, I decided it was more important to get the car finished than to wait for the bits which I know Fran would eventually send. We’re fast running out of good weather in my part of the world.
Some time back I was introduced to
Moslanders Rod and Custom, a well respected restoration shop in Monroe, WA, about 20 miles south of our home. I was thrilled to learn they could get our 40 in right away (the economy has affected their backlog of business too) to help out with the list I'd come up with as well as solving the 'Case of the Missing Throttle Cable'.
The work I asked them to perform on the 40 was completed fairly quickly, and the car was trucked home the afternoon of Friday, September 18th. What a joy it was to climb into the car, fire it up and actually be able to use the gas pedal! I backed if off the trailer and into the garage... but you know the story couldn't possibly end there. Understandably, temptation eventually got the better of me.
A few forum members would confirm that Donna and I live a wee bit out of town. You could call our area rural, but to do so implies that far more people live out our way than actually do. Truth be told, we're way outnumbered by deer and coyotes. As a result, there isn’t a whole lot of automobile traffic, even when it’s ‘busy’.
So, after dinner, I climbed in. I put the key in the ignition and turned it to 'on'. Flipped the switch for the right-side fuel pump, and stroked the gas pedal one time. I pressed the 'start' button, and fired it right up. Listening to the exhaust, the first thing that came to mind is how I felt like I had a tiger by the tail... one stupid move and I’d be eaten. It was a very sobering experience.
After letting the car warm up a bit, I rolled the car down our gravel driveway in neutral, then dropped it into first and slowly (and I do mean slowly) made the half-mile drive on pavement to the state highway. Coming to a stop at the intersection, both hands were already shaking. Look both ways many times, then ease out the clutch and turn left, heading for a gas station about a half-mile ahead. Gently roll on the throttle. Hey, this feels pretty good…
Second gear and floor it. Oh. My. Heavens. Most of that 435 horsepower just booted me in the backside. Hard.
The combination of noise (perfect) and thrust (unreal) is something that has to be experienced to be believed. I now have some idea of how the boys felt 45 years ago when they mashed that throttle pedal in anger. The car didn’t hesitate or hiccup once and, when pulling into the local gas station, was perfectly well mannered.
Five gallons later, it was back onto the highway with an eye out for anything with lights and a siren. I didn’t want the car out too long for fear of drawing the wrong sort of attention. I did manage to get the car into third gear before slowing to make the turn off the highway and towards home. Of course, it was nice and slow for the last half mile to the house, being sure to show as much courtesy as a GT40 would allow to the two familes living closer to the highway. One thing I don’t need is an irritated neighbor.
It almost worked. After I put the car away, Donna smiled while mentioning that the exhaust note chased two deer out of the yard.
Screw Bambi, I said. Those animals are just going to have to damn well get used to it. :thumbsup:
