tigers
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To: tigers@autox.team.net
Subject: (no subject)
From: CoolVT@aol.com
Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 12:37:06 EST
Anyway, my mouth has gotten me into a fix.  I secretly hope that Mr. Miata 
might decide to pull into one of the upcoming restaurants.  Yeah, that's it, 
he's  just in a hurry because he needs a rest room!  After going by two 
possibilities, that hope is dashed.  I need a quick alternate plan.  My next 
thought is to wait until we come out of curve, drop it into 3rd, floor it, 
really surprise him and tear down the road as fast as that Tiger will run.  
If I can get a real good jump, I might be far enough ahead  that I can 
declare victory (to Lisa), and let off.  Then I could mumble something about 
how I can't afford to lose my license for speeding because I need to drive 
for my work.  Hell, she'll understand.  We will have wiped him out.  With the 
speed and the sound of the mufflers she'll figure we were up to about 100 
anyway. 

I speed up a little to be sure that he doesn't sneak by before I am ready for 
my move.  As we head up a hill the mufflers start their drone and he drops 
back to about 300 feet.  "Hmmm,  maybe the sound of the V8 gave him second 
thoughts."  I'm hoping that he saw something printed on the back of the car 
that said Tiger.  Maybe that rang a bell for him.  Maybe he remembered what 
his father told him.  He'll probably just back off very gradually to save the 
embarrassment rather than test the legend.  While he's sitting 300' back I'm 
really trying to remember if the car does say Tiger on the back.  Hmmm, I 
think it says Sunbeam and has an emblem.  Wished I had gotten out there a 
little more often to wash the thing and know everything that's printed there. 
 

No difference.  He's back to one car length again.  Now we all know this is a 
male macho challenge thing.  It would be bad enough if I was alone, but I had 
just about promised the Lisa a race.  I had originally thought that when I 
mentioned "race" to her that she would get a sheepish smile, act brave, but 
very nervous.  I would then be the perfect gentleman protecting my woman and 
just back off, being the hero for protecting her delicate constitution.  Who 
would ever imagine that someone looking like her would yell ,"YAAAA!", when 
she heard the word "race."  I realized that we're going to end up going a 
little faster than I had planned on.  There doesn't seem to be a way out of 
it.  

We head up a hill and he drops back to 300' again.  I'm trying to keep an eye 
on the road ahead, an eye on the rear mirror and occasionally check on Lisa's 
reaction.  By this time she knows something is going on even though no one 
has really made a move.  I try to study her cheek muscles.  Her perfect white 
teeth are clenched to cut off the smile and that tell tale muscle shows up in 
the cheek.  She loves it so far!  I kind of wonder how much it will take to 
scare her.  I know it's not going to take a whole lot for me.  I remember the 
age of feeling indestructible.  Get a few close calls or a good serious 
sickness and you can lose that feeling quickly.   Mine had been gone for 
about 30 years.  Now when I risk something I know what is at stake and what 
can happen.  Now, it's a calculated risk.  There's no calculating the 
stupidity that I'm about to get involved in.  I look back and am shocked to 
see that he's 150' back and "coming on fast."  I have 2 seconds to realize 
that this is it.  If I hesitate  too long he'll have the momentum and fly by 
me.  If I really put it through the floor I might have a slight chance.  
Since we're climbing I think that the Tiger and its torque might keep me 
ahead.  By the time I get moving his headlight is almost up to my door.  Now 
we've almost hit a stalemate.  We're doing about 50 and I'm watching the road 
and his headlight.  You can't hear the MIata at all.  You can hear the Tiger 
clear into the next town.  This is the time when an owner wishes he had said 
to hell with it and blown the $3,000-$4,000  for a hot engine.  Maybe a HO 
289 or one of those GT-40 5.0 Liter that Summitt Racing advertises.  Then you 
wouldn't be stuck out here with the risk of being embarrassed by a Miata. The 
road is clear for the next 1/4 mile or so.  If something heads down his lane 
he's going to have to let up.  With that, I will slow way down and declare a 
complete victory.  We're coming up to the sweeping right hander and the road 
is leveling off.  Now the Miata must be starting to wind into its peak 
horsepower curve because it begins to creep ahead.  The driver knows now that 
he's going to get by me.  We can see around the curve and there's no  
traffic.  The driver finally looks over and has a grin that could invite the 
tip of a steel toe boot.   He's enjoying it way  too much.  By now he is just 
about by us. His stare stays on me and when he finally looks back his left 
wheel is on the gravel shoulder.  The gravel drags his car a little to the 
left.  He panics.  He should probably let off the gas gradually and try to 
slow down riding the gravel.  Instead he jerks the wheel to the right trying 
to get off the shoulder.  The car goes just slightly right and then the back 
goes left.  In a split second he is going sideways half on the road and half 
on the shoulder.  I brake hard. I mean I'm standing on the pedal.   Another 
thought...why the hell did I leave the CAT bypass pipe  on instead of 
rebuilding the brake booster.   As he slides, gravel is flying and hitting 
trees and at the same time the tires on the pavement are screaming.  In 
almost slow motion, his car continues its slide around in a  circle.  Now he 
is facing us and going backwards.  The look on his face is one that I will 
never forget.  Gone is the smug race driver. This is a man at the complete 
mercy of physics and of his maker.  He actually looked like something from 
another planet.  To this day I have never seen a face look like that.  I 
firmly believe that he was unconscious and paralyzed, but with his eyes open. 
 Lady luck was on his side.  There was a long gravel pull off on the left 
side used in the winter by state snow plow trucks to turn around.  He crashed 
into the turn-around and slid to a flying stop.  I had by now gone by the 
spot, braked quickly, checked the road and roared onto the gravel. I told 
Lisa I'd be right back.  I walked over and the guy was completely dazed and 
couldn't move.  He looked at me and couldn't say a thing.  I asked him three 
times if he was okay.  There sat a man who figured he'd just used up one of 
his nine lives.   Cheated the grim reaper.  I was worried that he wouldn't be 
able to drive home.  After 2 or 3 minutes he finally said that he was okay, 
but he wanted to sit there for a while.  I asked again if he was okay and he 
said yes.  I hated to leave him if he was going to have a heart attack or 
something.  No, he said he was really okay.  

Going back to the car I realized how much I was shaking.  Now, I'm sure that 
the people who do this crazy stuff for a living would think this little 
incident was just a joke, but I'm definitely not a professional driver.  Lisa 
was staring off into space and not saying a word.  The mouth with the white 
teeth was slightly open.  The muscles in the cheeks were totally relaxed.  I 
doubt there was enough strength left to tighten them.   There was no smile.  
I said, "You know it's getting pretty late, I should probably head home."  No 
answer from that side at all, and definitely, no argument against the 
decision.  

The ride home was pretty slow and very silent.  I thought about the day and 
the days leading up to "the ride."  Lisa had shared a few things that really 
gave me some insight into the thinking of the female mind.  They would be 
another story though.  I had finally gotten Lisa into the car.  I had a day 
that will stick with me for a long time and I think Lisa had a ride that 
won't easily be forgotten.  I can't wait to see the young guys in the 
driveway with Lisa when I back the Tiger out and make the glass packs talk a 
little.  I'm sure in the telling that little race on Rt 100 will have been at 
speeds approaching 100mph.  I'm convinced  that in the way that Lisa will 
tell it, there will be very little diminishing the legend of the Tiger in 
Vermont.

Epilogue:
Lisa has suggested that we go out some night, have a few drinks and listen to 
some music.  She had me over for dinner and described me to her sister as the 
"gentleman" from across the street.  I think "gentleman" to a younger person 
means an "old person", doesn't it?   

Parked next to the Tiger, in the garage across from Lisa, is my Harley.  Yup, 
glass packs on it.  It wants to stumble and stall when first started and has 
to be revved quite a bit, especially when the neighbors are washing their 
cars:)

Mark L.

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