So I'm southbound on Torrence Ave, going past the Lansing McDonalds. Its dark, 9 or 10 pm, late spring 1988, my LX is dolled up nice(at work I'm called Johnny Chrome, for how my semi dump truck looks- you can imagine how I want my Mustang to look), the new Motorsport off road pipes are singing with my timing advance just fine. Factory mufflers sound great when uncorked, btw.The stereo is off cuz I like what I'm hearing. All alone this evening, just getting to know my car in the cool Chicago springtime weather, as I haven't had time or weather to spend quality time with my new toy yet. As I roll past McD's, a popular spot with guys like me, I take note of what the lot has to offer- couple old Camaro's, mid 70's heavy Grand Prix, a K car or two, nothing interesting. When I go by, I do notice a pair of headlights leave the lot behind me, and move in a big hurry to catch up- the tell me four eye. Aero's are uncommon in 1988, but four eyes are unmistakable. I drive the limit most times, cuz I like my liscense in my pocket. This could be some chick picking up McNuggets for the kids, guy heading home from work, a defenseless 4 banger, anything, so I'm cool. Half mile down, going up the hill by Popolano's, lights red and turns to green while we roll, he moves in closer. Ok. He wants some attention. But I'm cool, plenty of traffic, and I'm not tearing up my car or record this evening. He just hangs behind me, as I cruise the right lane through downtown Lansing, down past Ridge, where, unless he's lost or lives down here, he shoulda turned. Everyone turns there. But he stays right there, car or so behind me. Fine, tonights as good a night for me to learn what my car does as any. And I just happen to have a spot in mind. So I roll south to 186th. Its his last chance, its all forest perserve after this. He bites, turns right onto the 2 lane behind me. I play speed limit man all the way past Stony stop sign, a few miles, over to the Frontage Road. This secluded location is for a scenic drive beside 394, or racing. There are no outlet streets, no houses, no industry's. Just 2 of the finest paved, mile and a half asphalt lanes you'd ever want to see. As we swing the 90 degree right hander north, I just grab the left of the 2 lanes, and immediatly stop. Four eye pulls next to me. I don't know him, never saw him in my life. This is instinct. Passenger window goes down, guy says, "Hey. Nice 5.0. Is it fast?" I respond,"I have no idea, never cut it loose before. Think I'm gonna find out, though." He has a really nice example of a 79 Pace Car. Silver, red stripes, real nice. Now I'm a research guy, and what I found before I bought my LX was that the newer the 5.0, the better they went. So when he asks,"How'd you wanna start? My buddy here can flag us," I tell him just to go, then I will. He smiles at me. His car IS stock. We both know whats about to happen, but he asked for it. Why would you provoke something you had absolutely no chance against? But my training wheels are about to come off. I just don't want to miss a gear with my new T5. He revs, rolls out, I jump on it, easy out with the clutch, listen to him leave ahead. Guy can drive, he got hardly any spin- and I made a mistake. My passenger window is wide open. Air blowing in, creating havoc with my cars predesigned aerodynamic handicaps. Guy's up a car and a half when I get rolling right. Can't deal with the window now, just work with it. Before a proper race, your hands get shaky, stomach butterflies, you get jumpy. Now its time for cool. I get second, pull an instant car up to him and start to easily roll past, revving up to third. What hits me most is, I can't hear his car. My off road has made mine sound like John Force himself has built my motor, and I see this look of utter disbelief on this guys face as I suck the stripes off his car on the way by. Into 3rd i see four eyes get small in a hurry in my mirror. And it becomes apparent right then. I f***ing love this car. I get off it when its over, my 5.0 liters popping and spitting the extra fuel out the uncatted pipes. I stop at the end, all shaky, heart going a mile a minute, they pull up, park on the side behind me, we're all laughing, its like I know these complete strangers a hundred years. First thing driver says'"Wow, those are fast!" Yeah.
Popolanos had some good food, too. Unfortunately, street racing stories, even if they're old aren't allowed, so I have to lock this one down. 
