It is only natural to want more in life. It is the American way. While some guys are wanting more money (I know I'll never have it), or more women (I'm happy with my one thank you), I was, and always will, want more power. Before anyone gets the wrong idea and assumes I aspire to become the almighty that is false. The power I speak of, naturally, is horsepower.
For those who are not up to speed on Old Blue I will simply say it was my first car, and a dandy at that. For its age it had proved a reliable runner. No one else had one where I attended high school and that made me feel good. When junior Paul Walker and Vin Diesels' pulled up next to me in their 2Fast2Furious econobox's I would laugh. The only problem was that even old blue could not take the lowest of Honda Civic's at a stoplight as the 300 cubic inch straight six that lived beneath the hood, while strong, couldn't propel it to 60mph in under 12 seconds. Down hill. With a tail wind.
This is where the story gets fun. What would a 16 year old kid do about a strong, reliable, perfectly running, yet slow vehicle? Would I tune up the old straight six? No, too easy. How about buy a new vehicle? If anyone knew me at the time they would tell you that the truck and I would never part ways. What did I do you ask? How about pulling out the straight six and dropping in a fresh 302 cubic inch V8 complete with an Edelbrock 4 barrel carb, intake, full length headers, and machined heads. I had no clue what I was doing, a pocket full of cash from my part time job which was waiting to be spent, and a bunch of friends chomping at the bit to tear something apart. Sounds like fun doesn't it?
Now hold your horses. Before something like this is done some planning needs to happen. I knew that I wanted my engine compartment to look spiffy. Only one junkyard in town had a mulltitude of parts to choose from and it was one of those "do it yourself" places which is always fun. My good friend and partner in crime throughout this project accompanied me to the junkyard in what can only be described as a "rough" part of town. Anyone familiar with Hall Street in St. Louis can understand. Let's just say I made sure not to shave, shower, and have a scowl on my face as I pulled off the exit as I knew just weeks earlier an entire family was killed there so that two gentleman could get the Dubs off their Yukon Denali. Luckily for me, two redneck looking guys in a 30 year old truck did not look all too apetizing to any would be carjackers and murderers. A bunch of parts and a 30 minute long conversation about Jesus later (one of the customers must have saw my friend and I's appearance and decided we were in need of saving) we were on our way back home.
The truck which had just made its journey was then ripped apart piece by piece. Organization was non-existent as any nut, bolt, or screw removed was tossed into a shoebox. The idea was to get her running in a few days with the brand new V8 ready to show those little Paul Walkers' who's boss. How ignorant we were....
