When I was a little girl I always told my dad I wanted to be a race car driver. To me the typical careers looked and sounded like a boring thing to do. Must had been the rebel tomboy in me out to prove the world wrong that a girl could be anything she wanted to be as long as she set her mind to do it.

In 1982 I had worked for a coach at our high school doing a painting on the wall of his weight room. With the money I had earned from the painting I went to the newspapers in search of the perfect car for me. I found a farmer that had a 1969 Fastback Mustang for sale, dirt-cheap only $1,200. Perfect! That would mean I would have enough money left over to build up the car the way I wanted it and if the car needed anything else done.

My dad and I drove out to the farmer’s house to look at the car. The farmer walks out to one of his outbuildings in the back. As he is opening the doors I look inside seeing a car wrapped in wrapping paper with a huge bow on top of it.

I looked at the farmer confused and asked, “What is with the paper?”

He said “Young lady I bought this car for my daughter in 1969 drove it home park it right where it sits now. It was supposed to be her birthday present. The night before her birthday some friends of hers went out, on her way home she got hit by a train. I never could stand the thought of looking at the car or even selling it because to me it would be letting go of her.”

I wanted to cry it was such a sad and touching story.
He said to me with a huge smile on his face “You can take the paper off yourself and look at the car.”

My dad and I were in total shock by now this wasn’t what we were expecting by any means.

I got all the paper off and there sat the car of dreams. A 1969 emerald green metallic Fastback Mustang, in mint condition with only 29 original miles on it, sale sticker still in the window. I was in Awe! Totally freaking out by now! I looked at my dad and he knew by the look on my face that there was no need to look else where I had the car I wanted right there in front me. I paid the farmer the $1,200, got the keys and drove my baby home.

My best friend and I decided to make this car faster then it was having the need for speed. The two of us pulled the stock 302 out (yes I know I should have left it stock but we saved everything to make stock again if needed).  We dropped a 351C Cleveland in, with a Holley 4 barrel, adding the touch of Hooter muffler, headers, and dual exhaust system, 5 speed racing cam and chroming out everything else in the motor. When we were finished with it I had one Bad Ass car, it purred like a mountain lion. No one could tell that I had such a big block motor in it and I was able to take him or her by surprise. I have really small feet so shifting was quick and easy for me; I could make that car drive like it on rails.

I remember once I was giving my mom a ride to the store (she didn’t drive), on our way home I was stopped at a traffic light. There was this dude in a Chevy Nova riving up his motor, playing the “You want to race?” game. Having my mom in the car I was declining not to race because I would probably get beat to death for scaring her and for racing.

My mom looked over at the boy and then back at me with this strange look on her face that I had never seen on my mom before and said to me, “You going to sit there all day and let that boy intimidate you and make you not race? Or are you going to show him who is the boss?” (Okay this is something my dad would have told me not my mom).

I looked at her a little confused and told her “Mom brace yourself you are going for a ride of your life and you can kill later.”

I beat the boy by three car lengths and my mom was proud of me yelling out loud “That’s my girl” even if she about pissed her pants.

One rule I had was that I would not race title for title because I would not take the chance to lose my baby. One night this boy talked into racing against him in his 68 Chevelle title for title.

My friends whispered in my ear “You know you can take him. So now shut him up!”

We get all lined up ready to race on the count of three. The boys wasted a lot of time burning tires and wasting his tread. By time he was done doing that I was already two car lengths ahead of him and making bad ass good time.

From out of the blue I started to hear sirens going off from behind and in front of us. Oh shit! Was what crossed my mind at that moment. One police behind us pulled the boy over and the other in front me pulled me over. In the town we lived in the fine for drag racing (street racing I think they call it now) was $1,000 straight up, then they tack on the speeding part. The police officer told me to follow him back to where the other car and police officer was. So I did a quick “U”ie in the middle of the road trying really hard to show off in front of the cop.

The boy and I were standing by our cars listening to the officers when one officer looked at me and said “We have been looking and watching for you. You and that car of yours is known around town.”

I am thinking to myself holly shit I am going to go to jail. There’s no way I can get out of this one.

The police officer looks at boy then back at me and with this smirk on his face he told me “I will make you a deal.”

I am looking a little confused by now like a deer in the headlights.
I looked at him and said, “Okay! What is the deal then?”

The officer told me “You race me. If you win then I will drop both of the tickets. If you lose I will double both of the tickets.”

I look at the officer like he was out of freaking mind then I looked at the boy I was racing.

He looked really worried almost terrified at that point and said “Man! Don’t do it! I can’t afford a double fine.”

I was thinking to myself man what wimp I had to chuckle a little bit. I took a deep long breath while turning to face the officer, looking up at him straight in the eyes and told him “Let go!” then I turn and walked towards my car. (Okay! So parents would kill me but at least I could say I got the chance win or lose to race a cop.)

We get all lined up and ready to go by the count of three the race would be on. I looked over at the cop in his car and smiled this huge smile that went from ear to ear. ONE!  TWO!   THREE!

I beat the cop by four car lengths; I was so damn happy that I was screaming in my car so loud that I hurt my own ears. Back that at the starting line the cop takes both tickets and tears them up while he told me “Damn good race girl! I be watching for you and one day I will catch you.”

I laughed and told him  “You will have to catch me first.”

He smiled and laughed out loud turned and headed to his car.

Now that was a night I will never forget, the night I got myself out of a $1,000 ticket by racing a cop.