That tale of Little Jimmy and his 308 kph foray down the QEW got me triggered on a little foray I shared with my old pal Johnny K down that very same stretch of highway.
Johnny was a Ukrainian kid who shared my passion for drunken imbecility and fast cars. He actually married one of those gals who enabled my adventures at K-Mart, which you can read up on if you look through the almost 6,000 posts on this blog (and holy shit, how did that happen?). Stone cold truth is I harboured a bit of a warm spot for that gal, and I never could figure why she would have settled for a loser like him when she could have had a loser like me.
Be that as it may, me and Johnny were out for a cruise one night in my 455 SD Trans Am, and found ourselves on the QEW, Toronto bound. We're motoring along at maybe 85 or 90 miles an hour. We're passing a lot of traffic and there's not much traffic passing us.
We're both car guys, and we take note of what we're passing.
"Hey, I think we just passed a Mercedes 6.9!"
We were kinda chuffed!
The Mercedes 6.9 sedan was the hotrod of luxury cars back in the day.
Couple of minutes later, Mr. 6.9 goes sailing by at a good 110mph.
OK! The gloves are off! I put the pedal to the metal and we passed that Mercedes at a good 125! Johnny flashed him the finger as we sailed by.
That Super Duty motor made tons of torque. It could get you through the quarter in short order; low 13's right off the dealer's lot. But it ran out of wind pretty quick over 5,000 rpm. With the standard 3:42 gears in the back, 125-130 mph was pretty much as fast as you'd ever go.
A minute later, Mr. 6.9 goes whistling past us like we're standing still.
Last thing I saw was his finger.
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