That 55 Fairlane with the Boss 351 did things with gasoline other than leak, evaporate, or burn it. I kid you not, when I’d stomp on it, I could almost see the gas gauge go down. But it would seriously bruise the backs of your eyeballs everytime they slammed into the back of your skull. That car was a flippin’ rocketship.
I had a 9” out of a 57 sedan under the rear, and I went over a rough set of railroad tracks, accelerating through 25-30 mph with my foot flat on the floor. The car got enough of a bounce to where it hopped the rear wheels, and when they came down, the torque snapped the axle clean in two. On an uncut 9” Ford. That NEVER happens. But it did. To me. I didn’t lose too many races with that thing.

The 57 is a joy, actually. Joy, my wife, likes it, and it looks good. It’s a popular car, but it’ll be down the road, I fear. I find working on GMs to be tediously mind numbing.

Bubba, hold my beer.