Hmm.. yes.. I recall my first Tiger, and your story brought back the memory
of why I eventually sold it....
I was in my last year of college (1977) and I had a black Tiger with red
interior and a 302 (that had, allegedly, been put in by the dealer who was
the original owner as well). That thing went like stink, but never did
handle worth beans. It was really a treat having a Tiger in college.. when
I first got it the engine was stuck and it was a real rat's nest - it had
been sitting on the street in Phila for over a year, and it looked it. My
buddy and I got it running again, cleaned it up, and apart from a little
rust in the front wings it looked pretty spif... the dream car for a college
guy, and sure beat the h*ll out of the Austin A40 and Spitfire it replaced.
Anyway, I was driving back to school late one Sunday nite, probably around 2
or 3 in the morning, my ride-sharing lady fast asleep beside me in the
passenger seat, blasting along route 81 north above Binghamton NY. Now,
those of you familiar with that turf know that 81 is divided there, 2 lanes
north, grassy strip, and 2 lanes south. I was doing well over a ton, it
being so very late and so little traffic, and the 302 was purring nicely -
all was right with the world, indeed. I am not sure, but I imagine I was
probably listening to Golden Earring's "Radar Love" on my cassete player -
it was the perfect music back then for a little late nite jet-piloting, such
as I was. As I zoomed along in the darkness, my Marchal's illuminating the
grey roadway nicely, I saw in the distance the apporaching lights.. and they
were approaching very fast indeed. I dipped my beams and as he blasted past
me I noted that unmistakable rattly roar of a Porsche flat engine - like a
Volkswagen on acid. I glanced up in my rear view mirror and as I watched
his red tail lights quickly shrink to pin dots I realised... he was ON MY
SIDE OF THE BL**DY ROAD!! YIKES! Yes, he really *was* going *south* in the
*north-bound* passing lane! My God - I really should spend more time in
church.
I thought long and hard about it, and, given I had fixed it up and now could
get a good dollar for it, and that if I kept it any longer I was probably
going to end up as nothing more than a quarter-mile of red paint one day, I
thought perhaps the old Tiger and I should part company. I got $2000 for
it, and I figured at the time that I had robbed the new owner. Sigh... the
ignorance of youth....
-Kevin
67 Alpine V
49 Triumph Renown
(and soon, a Morris Minor Traveller, I hope)
----Original Message Follows----
From: sosnaenergyconsulting@home.com
Reply-To: sosnaenergyconsulting@home.com
To: CoolVT@aol.com
CC: tigers@autox.team.net
Subject: Re: (no subject)
Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2001 10:47:42 -0800
Mark:
What a story! You had me on the edge of my seat during the race. And
you put it very well when you said: "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."
If I'd had my tiger at 20, I'd probably have wrapped it around a tree
and killed myself. At 45, having finally just aquired my "beast", I'm
hopeful that I have enough awareness of my own mortality to avoid that.
Time will tell.
Regards
David Sosna
CoolVT@aol.com wrote:
>
> 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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