A short little poem about my Dodge, my Cobra, and my GTO.
Wrote this while my chute was flaming out at the end of the quarter-mile.
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Just a little deuce coupe with a flat head mill
But she'll walk a Thunderbird like it's standin' still
She's ported and relieved and she's stroked and bored.
She'll do a hundred and forty with the top end floored
She's got a competition clutch with the four on the floor
And she purrs like a kitten till the lake pipes roar
And if that aint enough to make you flip your lid
There's one more thing, I got the pink slip daddy
I get pushed out of shape and it's hard to steer
When I get rubber in all four gears
Yeah, my fuel injected Stingray and a four-thirteen
Tach it up, tach it up, tach it up
Buddy gonna shut you down
My four speed dual quad posi-traction 409
Superstock Dodge is windin' out in low
But my fuel injected Stingray's really startin' to go
To get the traction I'm ridin' the clutch
My pressure plate's burnin' that machines too much
Pedal's to the floor hear the dual quads drink
And now the four-thirteen's lead is startin' to shrink
He's hot with ram induction but it's understood
I got a fuel injected engine sittin' under my hood
The guys come to race her for miles around
But she'll give 'em a length and then she'll shut 'em down
She's the terror of Colorado Boulevard
I was cruisin' in my Stingray late one night
When an XKE pulled up on the right
And rolled down the window of his shiny new Jag
And challenged me then and there to a drag
We both popped the clutch when the light turned green
You shoulda heard the whine from my screamin' machine
I flew past LaBrea, Schwab's, and Crescent Heights
And all the Jag could see were my six taillights
He passed me at Doheny then I started to swerve
But I pulled her out and there we were
At Dead Man's Curve
Little GTO, you're really lookin' fine
Three deuces and a four-speed and a 389
Listen to her tackin' up now, listen to her whi-i-ine
C'mon and turn it on, wind it up, blow it out, GTO
You oughta see her on a road course or a quarter mile
This little modified Pon-Pon has got plenty of style
She beats the gassers and the rail jobs, really drives 'em wi-i-ild
C'mon and turn it on, wind it up, blow it out, GTO
Gonna save all my money and buy a GTO
Get a helmet and a roll bar and I'll be ready to go
Take it out to Pomona and let 'em know
That I'm the coolest thing around
Little buddy, gonna shut you down
When I turn it on, wind it up, blow it out GTO
When the flag went down, you could hear rubber burn,
The Stingray pulled me going into the turn
I hung a big shift, and I got into high,
When I when I flew by the Stingray, I waved bye bye.
Around the turn into the straight away
I was blowing off everything that got in my way,
Stingrays and Jags were so far behind
I took my Cobra out of gear and let it coast to the line.