By Scott Bumgarner, a Finalist of NewsPortalSite’s Writing Contest
When
the group of neighborhood guys I grew up with, was in fact trying to
grow up, we all had a fascination with “muscle cars”. We all fancied
ourselves as experts on speed while driving ’54 Chevys and ’53 Fords and
whatnot. The older generations, guys three and four years older, drove
’58 Chevys and ’59 Chevys and we heard about the tales of the ‘marked’
off quarter mile part of US Hwy 7 about three miles west of Davis,
Oklahoma.
That
is where all of the challenge drag races were carried out. The Dairy
Queen was located on the western edge of Davis where Hwys 77 and 7
converged, and this was where everyone hung out. If two guys decided
they wanted to race each other word would spread in a New York minute,
and it would look like a funeral procession at high speed trying to get
out to the ‘drag strip’ for the nights main entertainment.
This happened many times on Saturday nights in the ’50s. Later, when I started driving, I had a few races myself out there.
One
particular Friday in the Springtime of 1965, a guy, who drove a 1964
Ford loaded with a 406 cubic engine stopped at the Dairy Queen one
night, and some of us guys told this fellow that we would count it as an
adventure of a lifetime to get to take a high speed ride in that big
ole Ford.
He
said ‘hop in’ and so about four of us did just that. Back then IH 35
was non existent. He drove us out to the other side of the river bottom
up on the hill where IH 35 now crosses under this hill where a cut was
made through and an overpass was built.
It
was about one o’clock in the morning, moon was out, no other cars on
the highway. He stopped at the top of the hill after turning around
headed back east toward Davis. The river bottom is fairly straight for
about three miles before any curves come into play.
He
took off, not spinning the tires, and went through the four speed
transmission fairly easily. At 120 miles an hour, the tachometer was
sitting on 5000 rpms’ and the speedometer needle went out of sight. I
watched the tach then go to 7000 rpms’ before he let up on the gas, and
we were still quite a ways from the curves. That remains to be probably
the fastest I have ever ridden in a car.
A
few years later in Plano, Texas I had the opportunity to drive a 1967
Camaro loaded with a 427 cubic inch engine and 425 horsepower. I drove
this car for about 15 minutes and scared myself quickly enough to know I
would not ever attempt to drive another one as powerful as that.
About the Author
Retired,
Okie by birth, Texan by residence, Jesus Christ follower, writer,
blogger, and sometime poet. Married with two daughters and families,
including three grandchildren. Cieaura Independent Marketer.
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