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The Bench Racers Journal
Back when I was in 7th grade, my language arts teacher made everyone do an odd assignment. We had to write a story using real characters, like family, friends, acquaintances, etc, but basing it back to when we(the class) were born. The subject could be of our choice, but had to reflect on the way of life was back then. This did require a little bit of research, since I didnt have a real grasp of the way things were like when I was first born. Obviously

I racked my head on what to write about. It was always all or none on this type of assignment for me. There was no room for compromise, so the subject had to be spot on or I would loose interest really fast. It was a major grade which was another issue with doing the assignment well. So basically a term paper, and it had consequences in my real life at the time too.

Anyway while digging thru some old stuff, found some of the pages I had written. Or basically some notes that were put together to write the story. Since about the only thing I had any real interest in at the time was one day start racing, then that is what the subject would be. Fortunately I had all of those old magazines from the time I was born. I had already read all of them cover to cover several times over. So I at least had an idea of how some things were back then.

The story got fairly involved, because I was writing it in almost real time about the beginnings of me first racing. The assignment kept my interest, since it would be just like printing out what was happening on a daily basis relevant to racing.

This story is pure fiction, but based on real situations and some real people, I knew at the time. Here is the first chapter below. If anyone thinks it is interesting and wants to read more, I will post another. If not no loss or hard feelings. The notes I had jotted down umpteen years ago are anything but legible. Since the notes are ruff I need to translate my scribbling to real English, proof and type it up. If it is a bust, then I wont waste your time. Just let me know if you like it or not.

The Bench Racers Journal

Chapter 1

Hey Terry, great party. So how do you feel? Uh, what? Hi Steve. Where the heck have you been hiding? What are you talking about anyway? I have been hiding from your jerk of a brother. As if it wasnt obvious. Oh come on. You know exactly what I mean. Its your 13th birthday today. So how does it feel, not being a little kid anymore? Dad says when I turn 13 in a few months, that I become a man. He is going to treat me like an adult so I better start learning how to act like one. I should be more responsible and be doing more around the house to help out.

 Oh yea, Happy Birthday. Here, this is for you. Wow! A present! For me? I told you that wasnt necessary. We agreed not to exchange gifts, remember. At least until we were older and could afford to. Yea, I remember. But mom and dad wanted to get something for you anyway. Since you are always helping dad fix things like that crappy McCulloch lawnmower. Dad said he wishes he would have never bought that piece of $&!+. Well you know what my dad would say anyway. And you know mom doesnt given him a minutes peace when it breaks down either. 

Hey open it up.  Ok, OK. Let me try to guess what it is first. Big yellow envelope with my name mailed to your address. Hum? Its not heavy enough to be a set of Craftsman wrenches I was drooling over at Sears the other day. They would go great with the 1/4" socket set from my parents. Quit joking around and just open it. Terry, did I ever tell you how weird you are? Most guys our age are shooting GI Joes with their BB guns or hard core in school sports. Jeez, you gotta have tools and even get excited when someone gives you an old rusty patio chair frame. I just dont know about you. 

Hey Steve, dont blame me. Dad says I get it from grandpa. He spent the last 30 years as a machinist building airplanes. And besides you sure wernt complaining when we built that wooden cart out of crates from those plans we found in the school library. Dang it! Would you just open it up already!!!!!! OK, OK........Holy COW!!! The December, January, and February issues of KARTING WORLD. Man thanks. These were sold out at 7-11, and I didnt get a chance to read them. Mr Foster, behind the counter told me to quit looking if I aint gonna to buy them. Wow, thanks a bunch. It would take a lot of pop bottles for me to buy all of these. Tell your parents thanks. 

Hey, T, you can spend your bottle money on something else now because my parents paid for two full years subscription. You are good all the way thru the end of 1962. I bought the December 1960 issue myself, but mom and dad paid for the rest. I figured since all you do is talk about racing karts, and know you are going to get me hooked on them too...Well thats why they came to my address first. I wanted to get caught up on what is out there. So when you start reciting every page telling me about all the new stuff, I will kinda know what you are talking about. 

Remember last summer right before school. We spent the night in the back yard in my tent. You talked me in to sneaking out past dark and going to the 7-11 to see if the September issue of Karting World or Racing Karts were on the magazine rack yet. Between your bottles and mine, we had the 35 cents to buy an issue. I think Mr Foster almost had a heart attack when you actually paid for the mag. Then he threatened to call the cops for being out after curfew on Friday nite. I think dad would have grounded me until I was out of college if we got caught by the police and issued a citation. So we high tailed it out of the store and promised Mr Foster we were going straight home and please dont call. Anyway you stayed up all night reading and talking about the karts and how much fun they would be to race. 

I really didnt understand what you meant until we were racing our bikes down Hunnicut hill after school one day. I was actually beating you when old Mrs Lawler started backing out of her driveway and didnt see us. You went right and I went to the left of her Rambler. It was a real adrenaline rush to make that split second decision and totally avoided a collision with her car. I stopped and turned around just in time to see you launching off your bike midair and go thru the hedges at the Eakins house. It was weird seeing your bike just stop so suddenly and pivot over on front wheel. But you didnt slow down. It looked like you went ten feet up in the air. Then sliding so far ending up laying face down in the grass. I am glad they were not home. You really did a number on the grass too. Coach Eakin is so anal about keeping his lawn perfect. I remember there was grass between your teeth too. How did you get that out anyway? You must have swerved really hard to avoid slamming into her car and crash like that. 

The Holly bush you ventilated didnt look too badly hurt compared to all of the scratches you had on your face and arms. Sorry, but I really thought it was funny. When you came limping back, I told you we could finish that race another day. Then you just grinned and said no way. That I had won fair and square. I made the right decision and thats all part of racing. Until that moment, I had not felt that rush you always get when talking about racing. 

Gee, Steve that sure was a detailed flashback of a few months ago. I almost had forgotten about that day. Well at least wanted to forget. Are you like keeping a diary or something? I notice you are always jotting things down. Nope you just wish. Its a habit I have picked up working with dad building cabinets. He is always telling me to jot down dimensions when I help him at jobs in a customers kitchen. And besides I kept thinking about what you were saying when we watched the race at Indianapolis last May. You kept loosing me when you were explaining about timing the pit stops at certain laps and what changed when there was a wreck or caution flags. 

I didnt realize how that much was going on during a race. I just thought you raced fast as you could and stopped when you ran out of gas. All that other technical stuff didnt make sense at all till we raced our bikes. Well Terry, mom just drove up and is waving at me. I guess I am leaving. Anyway hope you have a great birthday and will see you at school on Monday. Yea, sounds like a plan. Thanks again for everything and be sure to tell your parents. Tell my parents what? Dude, get out of here!
I loved reading that! I vote for more! Making me have flashbacks of my early teen years.
Well one vote is better than nothing. Next chapter...

Chapter 2

Some of this story may be written in first, second or third person. I didnt have a clue about writing. So bare with me if it is hard to follow. It would be way too time consuming attempting a complete rewrite. Then may take away from the original intent of the story.

It was late into the night and I had gone thru these mags cover to cover until noticing the sun coming up. Crap, I better get to sleep quick, thinking to myself. No sooner had my eyes closed in comes mom. Hey Terry, rise and shine, you have 15 minutes till breakfast. Oh no, with a heavy sigh. This isnt going to be good at all, as my eyes slipped back into oblivion.

What seemed like only a second was almost 30 minutes. Get up NOW!, mom yelled this time in a very agitated shrill. YOU better be on your way to school in 5 minutes or else! I sure knew what that tone in her voice meant. Man, I should not have stayed up so long drooling over the mags. But it was so hard to put them down. Jumping up out of bed I nearly blacked out from lack of blood circulating in my head just then. Woh, gasping for a quick breath while trying to catch myself on foot of the bed. hate it when that happens.

Throwing on some let over clothes laying around, I then rushed outside heading to school. Just as I was leaving out the door, moms fading voice reminded me in no uncertain terms to come home immediately after school and no lollygagging on the way. Sure knew what that means. There were going to be some extra chores when I get home as a reminder for the mornings mishap.

No sooner I reached the school grounds a bell rang. Was that the first bell or last? Hopeful of the first. I picked up the pace, just rounded the corner and inside of classroom when another bell went off. Phew, that was close, saying under my breath. Its so nice for you to join us, Ms Gillette broke out. How about taking a seat so we can get started this morning. Or would you like a little more time? No m'am, I replied, while turning a bright shade of red as the class watched intently, with some snickers bouncing around in back of the classroom. OK, class open your book to page 286 and read the first two chapters. You have 30 minutes.

As I started to read, my mind kept drifting off to some of the articles in those mags. I kept asking myself and wondering why reading this book in class was so difficult and could not stay focused. Thinking how much I hated reading. But then suddenly realized how much reading that I had done during the night. I just couldnt put those mags down even after reading them several times cover to cover. But today in class, it was the hardest thing to keep focused on this story. It would be so cool if school books could ever have anything interesting to read. My mind kept drifting on anything but those chapters. What seemed like just minutes when his teacher broke my thoughts.

OK class, close your books then get out pen and paper. Oh great, now we are taking a pop quiz on what we just read. I was trying to recap in my mind on anything at all that was just read, but drawing a complete blank. Ms Gillette raised up the large US map that had been pulled down in front of the chalk board. There were 10 questions with multiple choice answers. Well, at least I have a 25% chance of getting the answers right. Oh wait, something looks familiar as I started reading the ten questions. I remember this story. I choose it for a book report from a list in Mrs Brooks class last year. B, C,C,A,D,A,D,C,B,A. Wow, that was a close call.

The last thing I need is to bring a bad report card home next week. Dad made it very clear. If my grades remained good, I might get to start racing this summer. He didnt specify how good was good and didnt say definitely I was actually going to race. But if he even brought it up then usually was fairly certain. He had already made up his mind, and it was up to me to keep my end of the deal regardless. Ok, ok, stay focused, and get thru class. Only about three months away until summer. Could I really get thru all of this boring stuff in school when all my mind does is drift off thinking what its going to be like actually racing. That thrill of speed running down the straights and how fast the kart zips thru the tight turns. Man I cant wait. The bell rang and class was over

Wow that was quick. Oh crap, what was the homework assignment. I wasnt paying attention when the teacher gave it out. I gathered up my books and headed out of the classroom. Leslie Boone looked over and asked me where my mind was all morning as we left class. She also asked who help with dressing me today. Looking down I see my shirt is crooked from being one button off. Yea, about that...I interrupted her curious concern and asked her if she would go over the homework assignment. She said my head must really be off somewhere else today, but helped me out anyway. I thanked her and headed off to meet Steve at our normal lunch table.

Leslie sure has been a lot more sociable since I fixed her locket before Christmas. Even tho all the years we have known each other, she seemed to snub her nose up at me a lot more in the last year. Even when I just said hello. But when the clasp of her locket broke, I thought she was going to start crying. Standing out in the hall when a girl is crying in front of you, well everyone wants to know what YOU did to make her do that. No brownie points made there. I asked her if she would mind me taking a look at it. I reached out and she put it in my hand. The whole time trying to explain to me it had belonged to her grandmother and would just die if it is ruined.

Looking real close, I saw what the problem was. Then carefully pinched the little ring at one end of the chain together in my teeth. She started to grab it away while swinging her other hand against my face thinking I was just making fun of her for some reason. A really trusting girl there. I blocked her swing then handed back the locket. I told her to chill out, its fixed now. Not in my most cordial tone either. She carefully tugged at the end where the problem was and quickly changed her demeanor. She apologized as a smile broke across her face. I will take that smile as a thank you, now sounding a little bit cocky. Then headed to the lunchroom.

My meal consisted of the weekly mystery meat, mixed veggies and mashed potatoes, that tasted more like paper mache' with the consistency of that yellow clay down in the creek bed. The usual pack of friends were there. Jim Scrivner, Jon Purdue, and Francis Fuzzell were all sitting around the table. Hey even Terry Franklin was socializing with us today. I considered Steve my best friend, since he is the only one that shared similar interests in building things and trying to fix any old lawnmower engines we could get our hands on. Not to mention he only lived one street over.

While I had an obsession to working on small engines, he actually went to the trouble of using some of the old mowers to make money with. He always gave me a small percentage of the proceeds, saying I was the reason he could mow the lawns. I keep the mowers running that we drag home from someones trash pile and he in return cuts me in. I did on occasion sell some of the mowers that we got up and running.

This should have been a win win scenario for me. But it seemed like the money was gone soon after the mower sold. Then I didnt have either the money or mower. It got harder for me to sell any of these during the school year. I would need things to go racing with. So I thought maybe wait until the coming summer. It would give me a better chance of having a small chunk of change when I really needed it.
If you find this interesting enough to give me a thumbs up, would be greatly appreciated.

Chapter 3

School tortured me for the next few weeks. I tried to focus on the work and managed to keep my grades up on the report card. Finally Easter was approaching and we would be off a whole week for spring break. It was Friday afternoon and all I could think about was when the April issue of Karting World would arrive. It seemed like four years instead of weeks since the last issue arrived.

I was waiting in the front yard for that little Cushman three wheeled mail truck to drive up. there is a familiar chug chug sound getting louder and looking to the left as the mail truck made a right turn up hill stopping in front of the house. I run out to greet him, and he gives me a disappointed look. Sorry son, dont have the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes today, he sounded with a smirch in his voice. Then handed me a small bundled up stack of envelopes. I quickly fished thru them and let out a big sigh, not finding the prize my eyes were trying to locate.

The postman then started to drive off. Before pulling away, he handed me one last item. He winked at me and said, Oh yea, I almost forgot. Is this what you were expecting? I grabbed it up, said thanks and already half way up the driveway headed for the front door before he even got started to drive off.

No sooner had I walked in, mom made it clear to get my homework done, NOW, so I wouldnt be doing it Sunday night before going back to school. I said its spring break and didnt have any homework. She looked deep in my eyes, like only a mother can do, and asked me if she needed to call my teacher. How does she do that? How does she always know? After caving in said, I would get started immediately on the book report due when I went back.

I started thinking how neat it would be to do a report on karting. Now that would be the kind of homework I could really enjoy. I thought about getting in front of the class and doing my oral presentation on racing. I bet I could have every kid in class at least considering to try out racing karts by the time the report was finished. How easy it would be giving all of the information to them about what I had found out and wanted to do. I could probably talk for the entire length of class about racing.

Then back down to reality Remembering just how much I really hated doing any type of speaking, especially in front of a class full of fellow students. Why was that? Why is it so difficult to get in front of a group and give a presentation about a book or subject. Why was it so easy to talk about racing, but would prefer having a bad case of poison ivy over doing a book report on some other subject. Well, the April issue of Karting World will have to wait a few hours, until all of the homework is done. I guess better getting it out of the way instead of pulling an all nighter next Sunday before having going back to school.

Chapter 4

Wow, its already dark outside, and this stupid report is not even half finished. Man I wanted to sit back and read thru the April issue. Mom caught me earlier just as I opened the cover to start reading it. She took it away and said it would be available after the homework was finished and only if she approved of the report. Hey, mom is calling. Its time for dinner. Great, at least I can blow this off for a little while.

At the table my thoughts were focused on what was new in the magazine. Get a grip, just finish that report so I can read thru it tonite. Dad breaks my trance. Terry? Earth to Terry. Huh? Oh, yes sir? I popped out of my daze. You need to get to sleep soon as your homework is finished. Your grannys yard is in need of maintenance, so tomorrow morning you will be going there to mow and clean up around the place.

Oh, man, this isnt fair, I held under my breath. What was that? My dad quizzed me. Nothing sir. Didnt sound like nothing to me, he stormed back. No sir, Is there anything else that needs to be done after the yard is finished? All the time looking down at my plate poking at english peas with a fork, trying not to make eye contact. Yes there is. When you are done, you will be coming with me for the afternoon. I have some plans and you are cordially invited.

Oh, man, do I have to? I was hoping to....He interrupted me and replied in that "its not really a choice" response. No you dont have to go tomorrow, just like you dont have to eat dinner tonite. Would you prefer to skip dinner and get back to your homework right now? No, sir. I replied in a very surrendered tone. He always had his way of making sure I understood. It was late when I finished my book report.

Sure glad I didnt wait until next Sunday nite to do that. Woh! Did I just have a responsible moment there? Maybe Steve was right about turning 13. Is this whats in store for me when I grow up? A cold shudder went thru my body. I would have put this report off, probably up until class started if given half the chance. But without too much resistance I actually caved in, accepted my fate and did it without dragging it on all nite. Just took all evening instead.

Sleep sure sounds good right now. My brain is not accustomed to this much reasoning in one day. Night slipped by and morning came fast bringing heavy eyelids when that alarm went off. Crammed down some cereal and glass of milk, then off on my bike to grannys. I remember like it was yesterday. It was just a month before my 13th birthday. My grandfather was in the hospital again for his heart. He died in his sleep, I guess from another attack. He had been hospitalized several times in the last few years for the same, and I didnt think too much about it.

Mom broke the news to me and I really didnt know how to react. Right after the funeral, my grandmother embraced me crying when she spoke out between gasps "You grandfather wont be here for your next birthday". With her arms wrapped tightly around me and tears she just shed, left me in an extremely vulnerable state. There was nothing I could do but break down for the first time since I was told of his passing. It didnt have anything to do with him missing my birthday. It was just time for me to get it out of my system, to accept death of someone close to me as part of life and growing up.

No sooner had I completely broken down in tears, my grandmother straightened up and walked away, like nothing had even happened. How can adults do that? There are such strong deep felt emotions, I have no control over right now, and she turned hers off like a water faucet. Man growing up is getting to be very complicated. I had not really talked much to my grandfather about racing. Actually dont think I even mentioned it to him. But right now there is a hollowed out empty feeling in my stomach. I never even thought about him not being there to watch me after I started racing. Just assumed it would be that way because....
I like your style. It is opposite of the Reader's Digest version. Lots of little details that take a while to get through but in the long run make it a better story.
Thumbs Up 
[Image: thumbsup.png] Terry;  I have enjoyed the story also.

Chapter 5

Wow, she paid me 3 whole dollars for mowing the yard. Thats a dollar more than last time. Staring up to the clouds thinking about so many things I wanted. But all were way more than the meager savings I had managed to tuck back. If there is even a chance for me to actually get to race, its time to start doing all I can to make some real cash. That got me thinking how much money I picked up digging pop bottles out of trash cans at the car wash. I guess thats what has kept me with just enough change in my pocket, not to feel broke all the time.

Without my noticing, Dad had pulled up and blew the horn while sliding to a stop just in front of me. Ok, feet back down to the ground. Guess its time to head out with him. Now what did he say we were going to do this afternoon? It was a little after 4:00 when we turned into a fenced in area. I had my head down thinking about some trivial things not paying attention to where we had driven to. But then immediately noticed a strange smell in the air and started hearing some slightly familiar sounds coming from a distance.

I looked up and noticed we had just pulled up to the gate at Fabens Speedway. My heart jumped just about 10 beats ahead of itself. How old is the boy?, attendant asked at the gate. He turned 13 in February replied dad. Not paying attention, I looked ahead toward the pits with serious anticipation. Well he doesnt look a day over 12 to me. So that will be fifty cents for your pass. Kids 12 and under get in free. Thank you very much, dad said with a big grin.

Well, you park you car over there and enjoy yourselves today. There is going to be some great racing later tonite. I hopped out of the Ranchero and was standing against the fence before dad even had a chance to kill the ignition. What was that great smell in the air. Is it something unique to racing? Dad walks up and surprises me with a nudge. So, what are the gears grinding out in that thick head of yours? Dad, does my head really look thick? No son, its just an expression....

I was just curious about what that sweet smell in the air is. Well it doesnt smell so sweet to me. Thats the same stuff your grandma used to cram down my throat every time I got sick. Castor Oil, I asked? Yep, one and the same. You mean thats what they run for oil in those engines? No way! You are just funning me. Nope totally serious. You mix it with methanol and its does have a very sweet smell. You can tell who is running it with alcohol.

See those two guys karts thats spewing all that white smoke? It takes over twice the amount of alcohol as compared to gas when you run it. When you have the same 16:1 oil ratio regardless of what fuel is run, it tends to smoke like a freight train, so to speak. You see those other slower karts there. Still smoking a lot but not nearly as sweet smelling? They are most likely junior drivers running stock class bushing motors on gas. These motors wont usually even spin up to 6000 rpm. Even tho not nearly the amount of fuel is being burned, they are still smoking a lot. Yea, I mean....yes sir, I was noticing that. Whats the deal. Just think about it for a minute and figure for yourself why that is.

I thought for some time, while really being distracted with all of the surrounding eye candy. I got quizzed again on it so forced my brain to come up with a viable answer. My face must have had a really blank look, so dad works an angle in. He asks me what happened when I would run a lawnmower engine full throttle without governor for any length of time. I quickly responded that it would usually blow up. He then quizzes me as to why? Well the rod usually breaks. Again he asks why.

Knowing from past experience of these cherished learning moments how this is going, so better start making the brain function. I dont want to feel like a total idiot when the answer has been staring me in the face this whole time. OK think! Think, why does the lawnmower usually blow up when running wide open for an extended time. The rod breaks, so why? OH, I know!! There are no bearings in motor and rod usually welds up to crankshaft.

Wow that wasnt so hard. Ok what does that have to do to with racing two stroke motors here at the track? They are not at all like a tater digger on most lawnmowers. Dad? You said those motors have bushings. Where are the bushings? He said I see you do have a brain in there somewhere. Wow, not a compliment, but I at least dont feel totally stupid. He explains the bushing motors used for racing are limited to having a connecting rod without needle bearings like a Mac 10 or Westbend 580 would normally have. I was almost too afraid to ask why not, but wanted to find out more than I cared to feel stupid.

He stood there quietly for a moment and then went on to explain in very much detail about cost of manufacturing components, even if only a few cents could make for more profits if the number of units sold were substantial enough. OK not exactly the answer I was expecting. Guess that will be something thats going on the back burner and can expect to get cleared up at some business class in college. Then is hit me. Oh, you mean its cheaper to make if the motor will still stand up to normal use? So they can sell it cheaper. He nodded his head and told me I was getting the picture now. Then I asked why would someone want to race a bushing engine, if it couldnt be run to its potential without blowing up? He started in with something then stopped for a minute.

Well some people cant afford the high end stuff and would rather race than watch from the sidelines. While others like to tackle the limitations and see how much power they can get the motor to make without blowing up. There are people that dont care to go fast as the better engines may run. Wow, I never thought of it that way. So can we go in the pits?? Sure I think thats allowed until the races get started in about another hour. Enough brain activity for now, that was a lot to take in.

Lets go look at all of the different karts. I want to get up close and see everything. Will that be OK? Sure, you can go take a look. Thats why we are here isnt it? I am going to be over by the concession stand sitting at one of the tables if you want a pop or something. Knowing my dad, I was not always sure why he did what he did. Just dont need to get ahead of myself. We are here, thats a good thing.
Chapter 6

Wow, I have been walking around in the pits for nearly an hour. Seeing all of the cool karts and different motors is awesome. As I was dreaming about one day....wam!. Oh crap! Hey boy, watch where the $%(( you are going! Oh crap, I am sorry! While just staring off in lala land, I walked right into a big older man who was leaning down and working on his dual engine kart. He crash landed on the ground. I was so embarrassed. I really need to focus and stop acting like an bumbling idoit. As he struggled to get up, I apologised profusely until he told me it was just an accident. He was fine. Just try to pay more attention so I or some unsuspecting victum doesnt get hurt. I didnt know to laugh or bow up and leave quickly.

Hey kid....Oh no, what did I screw up now? Yes sir? I turned around and saw this scowl on the mans face. He then lightens up a little bit and the scowl eases into a straight line. Arent you Jims kid? Yes sir, I am. You dont recognise me do you? Up until now I wasnt focused on who the man was or even paid any attention to his face. Just caught off guard daydreaming way too much. I look at the man and now reaize who he is. You are Mr. Ingram! He owns the Phillips 66 gas station. I had only seen him in his work uniform. Now in his racing garmets, it took me a moment to realize who he was. I had never seen him without grease all over his face from working on cars.

Van Ingram owns the local Phillips 66 service station. I had no idea he raced. He is a big burly man and I would never invision him fitting into one of these karts. Standing there, once again not focusd on him talking to me, I looked over his kart. From the pictures and ads I had seen in Karting World, he was driving a Sears kart. It was powered by two of those really big Power Products motors. They were red, just like the kart. The tops of cylinders were flat with no fins. Where is the cylinder head I wonder? The others I have seen up close usually have a lot of fins on the head. These motors didnt have anything, just flat. Man there is a lot of things I dont have a clue about.

Did you hear what I said? Hello? Oh, I am sorry. He had been talking about something and I completely zoned him out. Yes, sir, I was just noticing your motors here. I am not familiar with them. The other karts have big cooling fins on the top of cylinders and these dont. He goes on explaining about these motors are completely stock units that were being run to get an idea of how well they might hold up and perform. Then modify them with aftermarket parts if tonights testing looks promising.

So are you going to answer my questions? I am sorry sir, my mind was somewhere else. In his gruff voice he ask me again. Are you racing tonite or planning to start? My response was I would like to race, but dont have a kart or anything that is competitive. He told me there are a lot of used karts available. I should ask around and see if someone has an older model they dont want. I thanked him just about the time Steve intentionally bumped into me.

What the heck are you doing here, Steve? Like you dont know. My dad kidnapped me and dragged me out here. I figured you had something to do with it. I said my dad had volunteered my time for the evening and didnt tell me anything. I wonder what they have in mind. So, you dont know anything? Nope, Terry, I am clueless as you are. Ok maybe not that bad, but in the dark either way.

Oh by the way, I watched you crash into Mr Ingram. Sure was funny to see. You cant go anywhere without screwing the pooch can you. You sure know how to build up someones self esteem, dont you Steve? Funny, like you could even spell self-esteem, much less know what to do with it.
As a little side does anyone know about when 4 strokes were called Tater Diggers? I might have been a regional thing but I never heard it as a kid. They were just flat heads or Brigs or sometimes something derogatory.
I have heard them called that long as I can remember. In the sixties tillers were very common and everywhere, That is where I first remember hearing the reference growing up. IKF started allowing 4 strokes in 1974. Even then that was the term of choice.

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