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Tiger and the Girl Next Door

To: tigers@autox.team.net
Subject: Tiger and the Girl Next Door
From: CoolVT@aol.com
Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 12:15:13 EST
Sorry list readers, but the ending to this story will have to be in two 
parts.  Apparently it was too long for the server.  Thanks for your patience. 
 ML

I decided to take Lisa to  Road and Tracks 1st best driving road in Vermont 
and 2nd best driving road in the country, route 100.  This is a very scenic 
north to south road that winds through valleys and small towns.  The speed 
limit through the towns is usually 25 mph and the open road about 40 and 
sometimes 50.  Here you can get some thrills and still stay under 100 mph.  
The road is mostly driven by tourists, and for some reason, you very seldom 
see a cop.   It's close to 90 miles in length and has, most recently, become 
a race track for crotch rockets.  On weekends you can see them trying to lay 
the bikes over through the curves and trying to drag their knees the way the 
pros do.  I don't believe they belong on the road.  My most memorable event 
on this road was the day that I was pushing my Tiger along at what I thought 
was  a pretty good clip.  I'm entering a curve and hear a whine and a whoosh. 
 It's the sound of two turbos mounted at the rear of this red Porsche 
convertible.  I mean I figure I'm at my limit for this curve with the Tiger 
and this red thing blows by me like I'm standing still.  Of course I have no 
idea how the guy could see through the mountain, that we were winding around, 
to know that there wasn't a minivan full of tourist coming in that other 
lane.  Since that day, however, I've had a different appreciation for the way 
a car can be built to handle.  The standards have definitely changed!

This is also the kind of area where you can appreciate the sound of the car 
if you have some nice loud mufflers.  Get on the heavy pedal, run it up to 
about 4,000 rpm and you can hear the sound echo off the mountains you are 
passing.  Come up on a car (when you can actually see around it), get down 
into 2nd or 3rd gear, pull out and put it on the floor.  

I have Lisa snugged up with that old 1966 red seat belt and she seems to be 
enjoying herself.  Each time I glance over I notice that she has a look that 
is almost like a young boy.  She has the forever tanned face, those big brown 
eyes and muscles that occasionally tighten up in those high cheekbones.  I 
keep studying her cheek muscles to gauge her reaction to the ride.   I know 
she wants to act cool and not show that she's enjoying herself too much.  
When she starts to break into a grin she instead clinches her teeth and tries 
to stop the smile which is normally on her face almost all of the time.  This 
causes the muscles in her cheeks to tighten up, just making her all the 
cuter:)   The ride thus far is fairly tame although to a stranger such as 
Lisa it might appear exciting.  With the car winding in 2nd and 3rd gear and 
the glasspacks barking as they do, one gets the impression of  more speed 
then is actually present.   It seems that the more senses that a person can 
get involved in the action, the more the action is enjoyed.  I believe that 
the visual sensation is intensified  in the Tiger because it is built close 
to the ground.  The road appears to pass by faster than it actually does.  
Try a go cart two inches off the ground and 20 mph feels like 50.  Now, old 
gear heads like the smell of the older cars like Tigers.  When they idle the 
raw, unburned gas will fill the air and bring back memories.  I think with 
Lisa it was the trees flying by, the wind coming from behind and blowing that 
long brown pony tail around her face.  I'm sure she would have guessed that 
it was going to blow straight back like in the cartoons.  I think more than 
anything, it's the noise.  If you watch people crank up their music you can 
almost see it filling their body.  When I watch the Air Force F101's take off 
near my house and the humid weather forces them to kick in the afterburners, 
it isn't the sight so much as the sound that stirs me.  It is so loud that if 
I'm on the telephone I have to stop and just listen to the planes.  Many 
people, not all, get the same feeling from the sounds of cars. It's almost 
hypnotizing.  I believe this was Lisa on this day.  I continued to glance at 
her cheeks under difference situations to gauge her interest or enjoyment.  

 I come up behind  a minivan and spy two young boys in the rear.   They stick 
their fingers in their ears and wiggle them at us like young kids like to do. 
 Their father is tooling along at about 30, sightseeing.  The kids are bored 
and fooling in the back.  I decide to play along with them.  I see a long 
clear stretch ahead and drop way down to 2nd gear.  Then I just put it to the 
floor.  As I get beside them the sound is blasting  their car, they stare at 
the Tiger and their eyes are as big as saucers.  Lisa, for the first time, 
can't hold the grin in.  I look at her and the smile is ear to ear.   I'm 
sure she thought we were passing at about 70 or 80 mph.  She'd never know for 
sure because my speedometer has been disconnected for 2 years.  We probably 
never got over 50 or 55.   The father seems to be taken by surprise and is 
overcome by the sudden  Tiger sound.  He's trying not to run off the road,  
trying to avoid the people on bicycles on the other edge of the road and 
trying to read the script on the little car, all at the same time.  Probably 
sees that V8 symbol and wonders what it is.   Now I start to feel just a 
little foolish.   I promise myself to behave better from that point on.  

Of course sometimes the problems that develop appear to just  happen, but in 
fact, we often do contribute to them.   Even after promising to behave I was 
still just an immature kid behind the wheel trying to impress a female.  I 
was, however, behaving pretty well until I looked in my mirror.  There 
sitting on my rear bumper was a black Miata, top down and all.  Driving was a 
guy about 45 years old with his sunglasses  and white baseball hat, brim bent 
in a curve as is the style ,and the hat almost completely covering his eyes.  
As a joke I yelled to Lisa, "I think we've got a race."  She gave me a real 
puzzled look.  I pointed over my shoulder.  She took a look and yelled, 
"YAAAA! "   And I instantly thought to myself, "Oh Shit!"  Now I had a 
choice.  I can let this guy go by us and I can guarantee, by the way he's on 
my bumper staring up those two pipes, that he wants to try.  This will then 
be the "granny ride" that I wanted to avoid.  Or I can try to keep him behind 
me.  I've read a lot of the reports on Miatas and I'm pretty sure that with 
my stock, worn out 260 that he can blow by me and also out-handle me in the 
curves.  One other thing, I've never professed to be a race driver.  My last 
race was over 30 years ago driving my roommate's father's brand new Buick 
Wildcat 455ci against a blue Falcon convertible, 4 speed 260ci. That Wildcat 
with 5 of us in it whipped the Falcon with 2 people.  Since that day I never 
forgot the saying of, "There's no replacement for displacement."  

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