It was exilerating to feel the power, the sun, and grip that leather Moto Lita again. With the Valentine ever vigilent, and hoping the HP's would be too busy with road conditions, and knowing that they could not cross the median to catch me, i just went on down the road. I was careful around trucks, as sometimes they would drop a big chunk of ice, but I found the biggest worry for me was following SUV's with huge loads of ice on their roofs, held tenuously by the roof racks. But this gave me lots of opportunities to drop back to fourth, and hurtle by them. In the cold air, the Holley HP Pro just seemed to want to inhale huge CFM of clean, crisp SC air, and the Carter worked its own thing to keep up the flow of 93 octane, coursing thru my latest modification, my Canton fuel filter and Aeroquip Socketless rear fuel hoses. As is my custom, cruised every rest stop, leaving each one with a long angry snarl from the sidepipes, the roar at each shift's redline becoming a hostile shriek. Finally free of any roadway water, the traffic began to clear, and with open road, the formidable road machine tracked straight and true, with not a hint of tremor from the full race Bilstein suspension, or the Goodyears.
Arrived at Charelston about 3 PM, and cruised the historic district, slowly rolling past crowds and throngs, and having many people step back and shoot pics of my car, and as happens so often with these cars, just driving small children nuts, leaving them jumping up and down, dropping candy, waving.
Parked, walked to Bubba Gumps for Shrimp and Grits, and met up with a Replica enthusiast, and drank about 6 big Diet Cokes. For those unfamiliar and surprised by the Shrimp and Grits, it is a delicacy of the Low Country, my favorite, and is truly food for the gods. Then the two of us walked back, latched up, and cruised again, with the same result, as the hot, crackling, loping pulsations out the sides of the car just stopped people in their tracks.
But all good things must come to an end, and about 6 pm, headed back home, running first under the dusk, then as the cold night air seeped into my marrow, i could look up and see such beautiful stars and galaxies, and running about 3000 rpm in fifth, refueling once, made it back home in three hours.
So a fine weekend trip was made regardless of the weather and ice, and as soon as it warms up, i'll wash the Great Stroker, and top it off. A fine car.
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