Chicago Street Racers
So there I was in the passenger seat of Brian Mitchell’s 7-second, blown-alcohol Nova. He had just done a John Force burnout and was backing up to stage the car to make a quarter-mile pass.
So there I was in the passenger seat of Brian Mitchell’s 7-second, blown-alcohol Nova. He had just done a John Force burnout and was backing up to stage the car to make a quarter-mile pass. I was wearing a borrowed helmet that was two sizes too big, and despite a promise to the contrary, Brian hadn’t had a chance to install any sort of harness or seatbelt on my side of the car. The cabin was full of tire smoke and pungent exhaust. My eyes were starting to water, and the staccato exhaust belching from the zoomie headers was causing the ill-fitting helmet to buzz on my skull. Arms and legs outstretched, I braced my body against the impending g-forces, knowing full well it would be a futile gesture if we crashed. It was now that I seriously began to question my decision to be a passenger for an all-out pass down the track. Where were my sensibilities 10 minutes ago?
a
Photo Gallery: Chicago Street Racers
Photo Gallery: Chicago Street Racers
0 Comments