Thanks to Tracy, we should meet at the Gig Harbor State Police weigh station 8:00 Saturday morning.(See link on Tracy's reply.)
I forget what car that is in Allens garage. I will try to remember. Does anyone else remember that went up what kind it was
Sorry Ray, Steve had second choice. He suggested we play paper scissors rocks to drive Allens car and he lost, besides he said that he was tired of washing dishes every night. He is a nut case
I will be at Sharis Restaurant on 512 and Canyon saturday morning at 8:45. We can leave to go to meet others at Gig Harbor by 9:00. I will try to contact those comming from Oregon and see if we can meet up. Let ya know later.
Rick, Come up for the event! Drive or fly, We will pick you up at the airport if you fly in Friday. We have plenty of room for guests. Oh, let me warn ya, Don't ride with Steve and this is why.
As I remember it, we were returning from an all day run it was about evening when we spotted a hitch hiker, poor soul! Knowing Steve as we all do we spiked our brakes and braced ourselves for another adventure. Steve with a grin opend the door and said "Hay Bud,need a lift? The guy was thrilled but we all thought, you have no idea!. Now most normal people and I am not saying any Cobra owner is normal but if we were, the very sight of Steves four inch thick shouder harness made to hold only God knows what, would have caused anyone that was normal to think twice, but not this guy. That seat was empty for a reason!!!
Once strapped in, Steve looked back at us with a grin that alerted us to what he calls "Cobra Time". Being a man of faith and conviction I started to..........that was as far as it went and we were off.
Everyone was in a hurry to get home after a long day and that was a delight for Steve as any reason to clean out his exhaust is a good reason. By now it was late in the day and darkness was setting in. The night time enhanced the sight and sound as we drove our Cobras along the curvey roads and valleys. As limiter swithces gave way and each cobra began to omit a constant flash from shift lights we must have given to the locals the eary appearance of fire flys on the hunt. The unmistalable sound those 427's, 347's 289's and 351's make when their limiter switches go off echoed through the valley in a symphaney we just call "Steves song". After several stops to feed Rays thursty beast ( I sware that man needs a tanker truck to follow him around) and clean the June bugs off our windows we were off again.
I never knew before following Steve, just how far wind preasure could smear a June bug acroos my windshield. Anyway we made it back in record time much to his delight but it took several of us quite a while to pry loose the hitch hikers fingers that by now were firmley imbeded in his dash which Steve proudly displays like notches on a gun in the old West.
White as a ghost and crouched down in what I hoped was not something perminant we proped the poor soul up against a local bus terminal. Like a hero recieving the Medal of Honor or the Red Badge of Courage, Ray placed his hat on the guys head that read "Bitten by the Snake" we all saluted and were off. It did look funny as I drove away seeing that crumpled twenty and the note we wrote that said "California or Bust" sticking out of the guys shirt pocket. I dont think the guy ever heard or appreciated Steve's offer as he shouted "Bud, If you ever need a lift" and with a grin, drove off.
Truth or Fiction? That's my story and I'm sticking to it!!!!!!!!
JIm