Tulsa Oklahoma, Peroria Avenue (the strip), Belaire Shopping Center 1974,
The local custom was to run for $20 to $50. Generally, you would hang out in the parking lot, and trash talk who ever you wanted to run, until they decided to put the money down. The starter would hold the money. Who ever won, would drive back to the starter, pick up the cash and then everyone would head back to the strip to cruise and maybe find another race.
I had a '65 Comet Caliente with a warmed over 289 C4 auto. It would run with just about any mustang 289 or 302, was deadly to 283 and 307 Novas and Camaros, and was a great car for these races because it looked like your mothers car.
One night, a guy I barely knew, came up and said that he knew of a Chevelle with a 307 that would run me for $50. Now $50 was a big deal for me. The Chevelle was parked across the lot and looked innocent enough, little poverty caps on what looked like stock wheels, two door post, bench seat, three on the tree just moved to the floor. It even had those little crossed flag 307 badges on the front fenders. I thought it would be easy money. So I gave my new friend my $50. Within a few seconds the owner of the Chevelle popped up with his money. And then he started up that little 307. Turns out that mouse had a bad case of rat motor. I started to protest that things were not as they appeared, and my new buddy got very firm about a race being a race. And he had afew more friends that felt the same way, and in fact they were even going to see to it that I didn't back out. I knew that I had been set up in the worst possible way,
So we headed off to where we going to run, in an industrial park now empty of workers. I pretty much knew that I was going to say good buy to my money, and that was it. My main concern was to not get my donkey beat by my new "friends". We lined up, I did a half hearted burn out and waited for the start. The Chevelle did it's burn out. No power stall, just about lifted the front end off the ground. The starter dropped his arms and I got a little jump off the line while the Chevelle started to hook up. Once he got a bite he blew past like I was chained to a post. Until he reached for second gear.. which he missed.... overrevved to about 9k. BANG! the engine locked up when he put a rod through the block, and then it came loose and tore the engine up. A huge cloud of smoke, mostly steam, poured out from underneath the car. I motored right on past. I shut down and did a parking brake turn, and drove straight back to the starter. He was standing there stunned in disbelief, eyes as big as the hole in that block. I grabbed the money out of his hand and jumped back into my car. The last thing I saw was the river of anti-freeze and oil running out from under the Chevelle. I never saw those guys again.