Taking the Loeber receptionist for a victory lap at State Fair Park in 1981.
By BS Levy
Would you sell your soul for half-a-second? OK, how about a WHOLE second?
As detailed last time, with our extensive rulebook reading (much of it between the lines) and subsequent garage preparation at the dealership (which, BTW, rampaged through our checking account like Godzilla demolishing Tokyo…but, jeez, don’t tell Carol) we had a promising track weapon with which to do battle. Even so, it was obvious we had some dialing-in and detailing to do. Which meant money.