A Little Old Sunday Drive Essay, Research Paper

It was a Sunday morning– crystal clear skies, sun blazing, just screaming for a drive in my baby. I walked into the my garage, filled with paraphernalia of my car: posters, signs, banners, anything you could think of just to give my car the half of the glorious splendor, justice and pride it demanded. Slowly, I unlocked the door, and slid into the soft, comfortable leather seats straight from Italy. Finally, the moment arrived when I turned on the ignition and the V-8, iron block, water cooled Cobra Jet engine complete with 3 inch h-pipe dual flowmaster exhausts, nitrous kit, and Paxton supercharger exploded with power and prestige. Pressing the clutch down I threw the 6- speed manual into reverse where I felt a certain privilege to be driving such a beautiful machine. I then backed out onto the road. Then when no one was around I pressed the clutch and moved the gear shift into neutral. I poured on the gas like I had an infinite supply of it and smoke filled the air I could barley see the dark gray with double light gray racing strips exterior paint. Into first gear I went and the stylish, aerodynamic 4 side swoops started sucking in air like a vacuum cleaner sucks up dirt as I hit thirty miles per hour at 2.8, sixty miles per hour in 4.8 and finally one hundred in 19 seconds. Onto the highway I went, alone, on a bed of straight and flat road. Armed the nitrous system and hit the little button that said “ Go Baby Go” on the shifter. Tearing the road up I hit the maximum speed on my speedometer to feel it going faster, way faster than the usual 420 pounds of torque it produced as I drove off on my usual Sunday drive in my nineteen sixty-seven Ford Mustang Shelby GT 500.