But I didI know that their presence was causing me to curb my apex speed as I entered the ‘hood, and it was really getting on my nerves.
They were usually present on weekday afternoons to keep the commuters in check and make some money, but early on a particular Sunday morning I start exiting the neighborhood in the F40 rather briskly and SURPRISE! There’s the ‘No Fun’ police van and I have to turn things down and act like an adult…. At least until I get past. Sunday morning at 5:45AM, are you kidding? These guys must be out here to harass all the little churchies in minivans, and get some extra donations.
So, I decide to give the boys down at the station something to talk about. I head back home and wake up the girlfriend for a little help. Like a well-honed pit crew, we roll the Indycar out. Put some methanol in the tank, and check tire pressures. I suit up and break out the helmet, all in record time. This is going to be interesting, but I really need to get out there before all the churchies get going.
I strap in. She tightens my belts, and gets the starter in place. Whir, whir, whir and it lights up. Out to the street I go. I’ve got to get a little heat in the tires, so I bring the revs to 9000 and drop the clutch and leave 2 18” wide streaks. That should do it. I try to keep the noise down as I meander through the neighborhood to head out the back way, so I can get a maximum attack at my little buddy. I got a few stares from bleary eyed guys in robes, picking up the paper after a long Saturday night, probably thinking they really weren’t seeing what they were seeing, but no angry ladies running down the street while talking on the phone. The coast is clear!
Out to the corner I go. As I glance down the empty street I have about a 1/8th of a mile before the van, with no houses, cross streets or minivans. I edge out into the street, bring the revs to 9000 again and dump the clutch for a perfect launch! I manage 11,000rpm through the first 2 gears and into third before I blast past Mr. Photo Radar. I am sure the scream of that Cosworth at 11K made him spill his Dunkin Donuts coffee all over his computer, ruining his porn search.
With my heart pounding through my fire suit I get back to the house and get the March back in the trailer and lock the gate. Back into the house we go, giggling like Jr. High kids, and then the reality hit! Was there going to be a knock on the door, with sirens, choppers and a SWAT team? Nope. Apparently, everyone was sleeping that morning…