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680,66 RUB

The water in the river made a lot of noise as it rushed over the rocks. Nick showed up a little before ten; he had his headers unplugged and the Chevy rumbled noisily and sweetly. He eased up to the starting line, listening to the engine as he revved it up a couple of times, and cut it off. He got out, leaned against the fender and lit a smoke nonchalantly.

He had on jeans and a black T-shirt and was wearing a silver ID bracelet that I knew Reba had given him for Christmas.

I've written three books:

Everybody fell over themselves saying hi to him; even Davidson came over and had something to say. Then Neal Nance showed. He had his girl friend, Anne Smedley, with him. She looked plenty worried behind her freckles. Nance still looked pissed off. He pulled to a stop next to Nick and climbed out of his car. The crowd became quiet and pulled in closer to the two of them.

Nance had a Interceptor engine in his black '55 Ford with a four barrel carb, four speed tranny, and mag wheels. Fluffy dice hung from his rear view mirror. It was a goer, but he'd never beaten Nick.


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He had on his straw hat Sam Snead hat and wore and a red and green striped shirt with a smudge of grease on the pocket. Nance dug a piece of paper out of his back pocket and Nick handed them both to me.

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Hold on to these for a coupla minutes. There was a red Pontiac parked a couple of cars down from Kenny's car with four girls in it. I had noticed them when we drove up; pretty nice lookers. Now a cute little blonde wearing a short skirt and a letter sweater hopped out of the front seat and ran up to Nick and Nance. Then they got into their cars and started them and nosed up to the starting line, a Caretaker eyeing their bumpers, making sure they were both where they were supposed to be.

Nick was on the right lane, Nance on the left. They revved their engines.

Cal Sharp, Steel Guitar Player and Writer

Candy ran out in front of them, waving the panties in the air. Had she just taken them off?

That sure was a short skirt she had on. It was red, too, and billowed out just a little as she ran. The crowd was really going, now, hollering and whistling as the two racers revved their engines even louder. Some of the Caretakers kicked their Harleys to life and rode down to the finish line, which was barely visible at the end of the gloomy stretch of road.

Chevy Summer (The Mystery of the '55 Chevy)

I guess they were going to be the judges. The noise from the two engines was deafening. Candy, quivering with excitement, stood in the flare of the headlights with her panties raised over her head.

Every eye was on her, especially both of mine. Her legs were spread apart and her skirt was riding up a little on her thigh as she held her right arm in the air. She licked her lips. Then she clenched her eyes shut and swept her arm down and the Chevy and the Ford roared off the line, squealing tires and burning rubber past her.

Nick took off straight, but Nance fishtailed a little, his tires breaking loose. Too much gas pedal, I thought. Nick was right, Nance wasn't a real good driver. But he got it under control and was a car length behind Nick when he hit second gear. The cars looked like rockets as they zoomed down the dark road, their taillights becoming smaller as they got closer to the finish line. Everybody ran after the cars, cheering and hollering, to get a better look at the finish. If I said it was a See, it gets confusing.

Chevrolet developed the all-new, combustion chamber in head canted valve Mark II Mystery Motor back in through for a Daytona debut. So, there were three pre-Daytona Mystery Motor race developmental engines built ala , and the final Please check this link for an outstanding explanation from Bill Howell, a person who was there when this all happened and the last living engineer who worked on the project: Thanks John and Bob for your letters.

Vito Siri, local Mob "businessman", into gambling, and starting into the drug trade. Great, Throw Back Story, to end the summer with. You can still hear Steel Guitar Insanity Amazon review: This book is a great insight into the life of a Nashville road musician, as well as a great pedal steel guitarist! I've written three books: The Beast From the Back of the Bus Imagine you are an aging over-the-hill country music star on tour in Texas with a murderous ex-con White Supremist on your trail, armed and ready to kill you for past transgressions.

Chevy Summer It's , before the Beatles and the Kennedy assassination. Now, in the era of ebooks, I have two murder mysteries and a commentary on musicians and the music business published.