Here's my collection. And no, I can't explain why his last name changes...
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``If I had all the money I've spent on cars ...
I'd spend it all on cars'' -- Scott Fisher
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Instant flaming death on a stick. Your eyeballs will be
crushed into an oozing, gelatinous pulp. Your intestines
will be ripped from your bleeding abdomen and strewn across
the interstate for large, oily trucks to run down while
the drivers, sweaty men with day-old beards, laugh at
your misfortune. Your spinal column will be ground into
powder and your lungs filled up with the oozing ichor of your
dura mater. And all the while, as your consciousness trickles
out of your cracked and brightly pain-drenched skull into the
deep pool of the universal abyss, you'll say ruefully to
yourself...
"... i should have obeyed the speed limit..."
Scott Fisher
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Well, I've always figured that if the motor stops on you,
about the worst thing that will happen is that you won't
win the race. If the brakes go out on you, not winning
the race is the best thing that can happen to you.
-- Scott "This space for rent" Fisher
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That being said, every enthusiast needs to own a Twin Cam at
least once. (And yes, there is a difference between a twin cam
and a Twin Cam. Toyotas, Ford Escorts, and Suzukis have twin
cams these days. Twin Cams were assembled either at Cheshunt
or Hethel and powered a number of cars to world championships.)
The sound of a Twin Cam, even one that's down on power, as it
hits that magic 4000 RPM mark -- meaning it's about halfway up
the RPM range and just nudging the powerband -- will raise every
individual little hair on the nape of your neck. You'll have to
adjust the seat half an inch too far back from the wheel to
compensate for the goosebumps when the motor gets serious. The
Webers make it even better, what with the dramatic vampire-on-speed
sucking noises they make through their four individual throats,
but it's the exhaust note, a harmonious, rasping, devastating scream,
that splits the air as if propelling the car by pure sound. It's
partly the header, that sensuous curving set of pipes like a
quartet of amorous serpents, and it's partly the fact that each
bank of valves, which can be separated at the mathematically ideal
angle of fifty-two degrees, is operated by its own individual
camshaft with a good degree of overlap and duration.
Scott Fischer
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It's also been my occasional observation, usually when the non-steroidal
anti-inflammatory drugs have worn off and my shoulders have started to
hurt again just in time for me to have hot oil pour down my wrist and
into my shirt, covering my hands so that I can't use them to reach up and
wipe the sharp pieces of rusty grit out of my eyes, that there is probably
no stupider avocation than building and driving race cars. I mean, you
expend huge sums of money and endure great hardship, privation and indignities
in order to go absolutely nowhere at great speed for a few minutes at a time.
I can't think of anything more stupid -- or more worth doing.
Scott Fischer
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The new MGB is like trying to make a goldfish out of a terrier: legs off,
fins on, tube through the back of the head so it can breathe, bit of gold
paint, make good. -sfisher@wsl.pa.dec.com
Scott Fischer
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Racing is stupid. The only trouble is, not racing is unthinkable.
- Scott Fisher
--
pZ -- Paul Cezanne (formerly Czarnecki)
Please consider buying my wife's new book, The Illusionist,
(http://www.JeannetteAngell.com) and then help the UN feed the world
for free @ http://www.TheHungerSite.com
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