Members, sorry I've gotten off track a little. I've tried here to get back
to the ride and will finish up with probably one more posting. Please be
patient.
I left off trying to explain the road suitable for a good Lisa ride in
Vermont and the kids that drive them in their mother's Honda's......
Now, like most people, these young kids want to get their Accord out to one
of the two R&T nationally ranked driving roads. Vermont's #2 ranked,
Interstate 89, winds through the Green Mountains. The curves tend to be
gradual and sweeping. With the exception of probably two, all of these can
be driven at the legal 65 MPH. The two exceptions have you down to 55. This
is essentially a highway and not a road. If they want a thrill on this
highway they have to start pushing 30-40 over the posted limit. Of course at
that speed they can start to feel the Accord floating and they let off right
quick. It's probably not a thrill road for a Tiger either. I guess there
are a few people capable of touring a Tiger at 90 MPH, but they aren't around
here. In fact in this area there are very few Tigers. There were two places
that I know of in Vermont that sold Tigers in the 60's. I never paid much
attention to the locations because the cars were beyond my financial reach.
A school teacher in Vermont making $4800 per year buys a used Healy Sprite to
impress the ladies and a rusted out Ford wagon for the winter. I can
remember only two Tigers in the area. One guy had his hopped up a little and
would blast through town with open or no mufflers. Plenty of noise. Then
there was the other one and the one that most locals remember. If you
frequented the drag strip you always remember the Tiger that showed up. Over
the course of a few seasons it got modified and got faster. The 260 became a
289. The 289 became a HO 289. Every conceivable option was bolted on to
make it faster and every conceivable type of angle iron was welded in to try
to keep the thing together after the rear end ripped out or after the front
frame work was cut out to stuff in larger engine pieces. Most novices
watching the races knew that the car got harder and harder to beat over two
years, but never really knew what was going on. The exterior didn't change
that much. Looked just like a stock Tiger, or better still, like one of
those 4 cylinder Alpines that was seen running around. The final product saw
the rear tubbed out and the space stuffed with about 12" rubber, the rear
fenders flared and a Boss 302 under the hood topped off with special cam,
crank, valves, springs, headers, probably 5 hi-rise intakes and about 32
carburetors. The thing seemed to be just about all engine. The gearing had
been perfected and it could hook up at the line and beat anything that showed
up except a fuelie Vet. At this time in the area there were almost no
foreign cars. One dealer eventually sold some MG's and Healys and one tried
the Renault Daulphine. This is the same dealer who eventually sold the
Sunbeams and one of his sons had the Boss Tiger. In this area in the 60's it
was all American cars. If you wanted pretty cheap speed and muscle you got a
Chrysler Corp 383, 440 and for the extreme fanatic, a hemi. For the car nut
to see a "little foreign car" wipe out a 440 Dodge left a definite
impression. Eventually it was just commonly accepted that the Tiger was an
untouchable car. People never really had a chance to see a slow one around
town and so you couldn't find one on the street to challenge. There just
weren't that many around. If you did happened to see this hopped-up drag
strip Boss on the street you were going to be damned foolish to try that on
for size. People just couldn't go around bragging that they beat a Tiger and
so, in this area, the Tiger became sort of a legend based on the one car.
Imagine yourself sitting in the old wooden bleachers at the strip. A Chevelle
409 SS is lined up against that "little foreign car." It's a funny looking
little car. It's got these big wheels in the back and the car hasn't been
washed or painted since new. When the green light hits, the dirty little
Tiger drops the hammer. The wheels start to spin a little, there's a little
smoke and then the big tires bite. The front end starts to come up and then
the car seems to twist from the torque. As the car really starts to launch
forward a piece flies off the car. The gawking spectators realize that the
torque of the engine has twisted the car enough that the windshield has been
thrown out and up over the car. This is the thing that legends are made of.
Anyone who ever saw those races remember the Tiger and what it took to find
something that could beat it. Numerous times I've been approached by men in
their 50's and 60's and been told that they remembered seeing Tigers at the
strip. They, like all the rest, just figured that all Tigers were that fast.
They tend to treat them with almost a reverence. No doubt that when one was
later seen these same men told their kids about the Tigers of the 60's.
Around here they very seldom see one and so it's a treat when they do. So
now if a 20 or 30 year old sees the car you can see the wheels turning as
they look at it and try to remember what their fathers told them. "Oh, I
remember. Do they really have a V8?" They kind of look at the car in awe,
thinking back to the stories they've been told. They can see that
windshield flying higher and higher into the air. They can picture the dirty
little Tiger beating all comers by 200 or 300 feet. Most of the time they
stand there and don't know what to say. It's sort of like being in the
presence of royalty . I attended a national motorcycle event a few years ago
and couldn't take my bike. I took the Tiger. With all the new, flashy,
chromed up and customized Harleys to look at it was interesting to see the
reaction to the Tiger. Granted most of the crowd was 40 to 60 years old, but
it was almost impossible for any of these people to walk by the Tiger without
taking a minute to walk around it. I overheard one guy yelling to his lady
to, "Come here and look at this bike!" Her answer yelled back to him was,
"Hell with the bike, there's a Tiger over here." Now keep in mind that
we're talking a Tiger that, cosmetically, leaves a lot to be desired.
Original, faded red paint on a car that gets washed once or twice a year and
was last buffed and waxed in 1989. I'm sure that Lisa was informed of the
Tiger legend by the guys in her driveway, information passed down from their
fathers. Probably why the car was referred to as "Hot."
Anyway, I decided very quickly that trying to impress Lisa with a Tiger
thrill ride on Interstate 89 was out of the question. Again, to get a real
sense of winding it out on that road you have to be up at 90MPH +. I decided
that the way my car handles, the way my nerves work and the way the local
state boys frown on cars blasting by everything in sight, it might be a
better idea to chose somewhere else. Now don't get the impression that
people don't really "drive" Interstate 89. This is the main thoroughfare
between Boston and Montreal and New York City and Montreal. You will
sometimes get blown off the road by a Ferrari or Vet pushing 100. They will
normally be Canadian drivers, who for some reason, don't seem to worry about
American speeding tickets. Probably kind of fool hearty because the ticket
still has to be paid. If you skip it, God help you the next time you get
caught in the US and have your plates run through the computer. The same
goes for Americans caught on the Canadian side. To give you some idea of
what can happen on this road, I was once passed on my motorcycle, by a
Canadian doing about 80 mph with loud muffler Monte Carlo. The thing is I
never saw him coming and never heard him until he was right on the side of
me, about one foot off. To be a total ass, he was passing me on the right
side in the break down lane. There was no reason for the move. The left
lane was empty. The guy was just a complete idiot. It didn't bother old
"Macho Mark" though. I pulled off, went directly home, changed my under
pants and put the bike away for the day.
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