My Baby

My Baby



After six months of winter rebuilding it was finally time to take the baby out.  My beautiful, midnight blue 79 Chevy Camaro.  The brand new motor was finished and it purred like a kitten and screamed like a lion.  A 350 small block so clean you could eat off of it.  Chrome and billet aluminum everything from the bolts to the main components.  The year was 1990 and I just build the best 5.0 Mustang killer. 

         Back then all the rich kids spent their bucks on a 5.0.  Us grease heads found an old Chevy spent one third as much to kick the crap out them street racing.  I was nineteen, still lived at home, and it was better than getting drunk, so mom was ok. 

         The first five hundred miles of any new motor is break in time.  No beating on it and give the rings and bearing a chance to set.  I had about five hundred on it and caught a red light on Roosevelt Road.  I look left and there he is, the reason I built this beauty, Aaron and his red 88 5.0. 

         “Let’s race, next light chump?”  Aaron screamed over the loud exhaust.

         “No, new motor breaking it in.”  I shot back.  The light turned green and Aaron shot off with the throttle wide open.  Then we hit the next red light. 

         “Come on, what are you afraid of Pussy!”  Aaron scream across the lane .

         With a waive of my hand I dropped it in first and got ready.  Light hit green and Aaron shot off like I knew he would.  As I built her she hit the power band and pasted him like he was standing still.  Hit the next light and all he got from me was a smile and the bird.