I felt ambivalence.  Not being a connoisseur of antique automobiles why would I desire the press of congestion at the Geneva Concours d’Elegance?  Contemplating vintage vehicles on the flat screen in the course of a  television historical drama is enough for me.  On the other hand, the event was free…  As you would guess I decided to attend.  After all, it was a fine day.

To circumvent the press of onlookers I made my way at a faster pace along 3rd Street exhibit by exhibit.  I avoided the street crowd by using the side walk, making my way rapidly behind each exhibit, — and then I saw it.  The automobile was a red 1964 limited production Plymouth super stock race car.  A mighty 426 cubic inch competitiion hemi, two Holly four barrel carburetors with the cross ram manifold rested under the hood.  The car was one of a limited number produced for drag racing by Chrysler in 1964, featuring aluminum fenders and hood, the interior was stripped of radio, heater, and came with two light weight bucket seats.

The owner told me the story of the car, how this car was driven by the youngest known driver to win a stock eliminator trophy in the history of the National Hot Rod Association.  Hank Taylor was 14.

Chrysler specs put the hemi engine at 426 horsepower.  Everyone knew it made a lot more.

In my soul I yet remember the sound.  A shiver of awe came over me when one of these Plymouth or Dodge super stockers slowly turned from the staging lane, the driver stabbing the pedal to clear the fuel intake, and then with a indescribable roar, an apotheosis of fire and steel — the mighty hemi powered car spun the slicks through the water and bleach, heating the rubber tire surface, prior to the quarter mile launch.

I know these words fail, abjectly fail to convey the numinous, the mysterium tremendum of the sight and sound of a factory prepared race car during those golden years of drag racing. I was 16 then, my first of many visits to a drag strip.  Two lanes of asphalt, with a “tree” of green lights, and a red has been a “church enough” for me over the years.  The meeting place of a community with a passion for the tactile sensation of metal, who delights in sound of engineering excellence, respects a supreme effort to tune for maximum power, and hopes/prays for efficient transfer of all that power to the hot asphalt surface…

In those years past this is where we met, and what we did.  It deserves to be called a religious experience, that of transcendence.

…of what we did to know — that life was, and is good.

Enjoy this video of the 1969 Ford factory race team.