It was 1986, I had just driven my new Grand National off the Buick lot (after waiting a few months for the order to be preferenced). I was over the moon with the car (my 1st new car) and really fell for it head-over-heals. At that time no one was then familiar with the GN (most thought it was a Monte Carlo SS) so I took good advantage of that at each stop light. The car was a rocket. Nothing could touch it.
I lived close to Chicago & the street scene there was active. We would all cruise up to Dukes drive-in and congregate setting up races in the then undeveloped industrial parks that were all around. One night I was really on a roll taking them in & knocking them down. One by one the cars would line up next to the sleek black Buick coupe. Dodge, Chevy, Ford, none of them could hold a candle to the Grand National. 5.0 Mustangs would try and fail. Firebirds & Camaro F bodies with their mighty 5.7 V8’s would trail behind. Tire spinning muscle-cars from the past had no chance.
Many of the crowd started to talk of the Black Buick saying that they could tell it had “nitrous" by the way it came up on power after the launch. No one knew how the turbo boost had worked then! One after one they all fell and I collected the purse.
My pals & I were really enjoying the wins (and the money) and had a nice healthy pot of $1700 collected. I won yet anther round then as I stepped from the car I verbosely proclaimed to all who could hear that "
I could beat anyone!" who was willing to line their car up.
As my pals were high-fiving a lone guy walked out of the crowd and said “
I think I can beat you” - To which I said “
WITH WHAT?” He looked down at the ground for a moment then turned & said “
With that” as he pointed to his car.
Off in the darkness under a lone street light sat a two door tinted window all black vinyl roof Lincoln Mark III. I scoffed at the thought and said “
How much?!” he answered “
all of it.”
Oh yes, its was on. There was no way that my undefeated Grand National was going to lose. This was like taking candy from a baby right? A Lincoln? After all of these wins? This will be easy.
So we handed the $1700 over to the starting line guy to wrap around his beer can for safe keeping. This payout was going to be epic. I had a bank payment of $286 a month on the Buick & this kitty was gong to make months worth of those - even after splitting the take with my pals. Yes sir. Let’s go!
So we head to our cars and the 100 or so by-standers got the starting line ready. I do my burn-out with pillows of smoke rolling from the wheel-wells and the Eagle GT’s. As I was backing up to the start line I could see the Lincoln go up against the brake in my mirror. But… When he released the brake that car rose up like a Pro-Stock ~ nearly yanking the nose off the pavement. The muscle from under the hood sounded deep like a locomotive. He boiled the tires past me & left the crowd in a wall of tire smoke that resembled a fog bank. Right about then I started to think that this was no ordinary Lincoln.
As he backed into place I looked over with wide open eyes. Nothing gave it away past the sticky rubber and serious stance. Here I was thinking that earlier I was the wolf in sheep clothing, but now feeling like I was about to be schooled.
I could hear nothing from my 3.8 in my position lined up next to this loud Lincoln. But I knew I had to be quick, probably quicker than I had been all night, so I stood on the brake & fed the Buick the power. And just as I got the boost level up the starting line light was lit! My Buick punched above weight hard & I had two lengths on him instantaneously. I was up on boost & the GN was flat flying. I snicked the shifter to second & barked the tires on the shift. I had him! This was like fire! Then just about a half a second later I start to see the Lincoln match my speed, and I start to see that he is gaining. I go to third & the GN is still pulling for me like a freight train so I am looking for the finish line. It is in sight but that Lincoln is on a hard charge & reeling me in like the tuna I was. It was going to be close - and I knew it! And riggght as we crossed the finish - that big damn black Lincoln pulled by & shut me down by a fender.
Boom, I had lost. All that work. All night. All the highs, and now the low.
Once I pulled back to the start line everyone knew the result. When my pals & I walked over to look at the Lincoln we found a gutted interior (well hidden by the window tint). No trunk floor, caged, all racecar with a huge side-oiler full race high compression 427, four link suspension sucker car. And… I was the sucker. Win goes Lincoln.
I went home with my tail tucked under my rear and took the loss of the $3400 pot to heart. It was something I will never forget, and a story of youth & exuberance that I am still proud to tell.
