[Fwd: RE: Zipper Howling]

[Michael Pallotta <mikep1@mail.com>]

Here is a post I recently sent to the syncro list as well as my
brother.  I am forwarding his recent response which includes the story. 
Hope some of you enjoy this.

Mike Pallotta
87 qsw, NYC

-------- Original Message --------
Subject: RE: Zipper Howling
Date: Sat, 21 Aug 1999 20:24:10 -0400
From: PALLOTTA ARTHUR <ARTHUR_PALLOTTA@nymc.edu>
To: "'Michael Pallotta'" <mikep1@mail.com>

Bro,
I laughed out loud while reading this...it is terrifically written. 
It was truly a moment that stood still in time.  Thank you for the
laugh.  I
needed it.

									Art

-----Original Message-----
From: Michael Pallotta [mailto:mikep1@mail.com]
Sent: Saturday, August 21, 1999 5:12 PM
To: Syncro Group
Subject: Zipper Howling


While browsing through the list archives today, one post reminded me of
a story that, though a few years old, still makes me laugh when I think
about it.

One of Josiah's posts discussed his brothers analogy for the sound of
the qsw at 6k+ on the tach: I believe it was "a tear in the space time
continuum."   I love that.  I don't know how he best sampled the sound,
but I got a great sample of the exhaust note on my brother's 81 Jetta at
full cry once that I'll never forget.

I used to have a 67 Mustang with a worked 289, "The Beast."  Nothing
really special, but the tires could, for the most part, be smoked at
will.  It also had a few (poorly patched) holes in the exhaust system,
so it was easy to hear it coming.

My brother, Art, had been given a bare bones, 2 door, 81 Jetta by his
father-in-law.  Someone had butchered the wiring and other parts of the
car.  But after we replaced and repaired some things it became a strong
driver.  He and his wife took to calling it "The Zipper" since it had
such a surprising amount of "zip" when you stomped on the pedal.  To
this day there are people all over the northeast who know or ask about
"The Zipper".  (After inheriting it, I coaxed it into the mountains of
NH, VT and ME numerous times before upgrading to the qsw and passing it
on to my friend John in Boston.)  Let it suffice to say, that it was
funny the way everyone was surprised by the pull of the engine in that
car.  It even prompted people to do funny things.

He's no "goody two shoes", but its a safe bet to say that Art is more
conservative than I am even though he's younger.  One day, I think we
had just picked "The Zipper" up from the shop where he just had some new
tires put on.  I was driving "The Beast" and he was following me.
Knowing the way I drove that car, I had probably spanked him a few times
on the way home letting him know who was boss on the road.  "The Beast,"
just had "Beat Me" written all over it.  I usually couldn't resist
getting it sideways on the last turn onto my street before I mellowed
out on the approach to home.

For some reason on this day I mellowed a little early.  I made a
politically correct left turn onto my street and wasn't really thinking
about Art behind me.  I was rudely jerked out of my little sunday-drive
day-dream by a harrowing sound that drowned out not only the stereo but
the loud exhaust of "The Beast."  I thought some hell-spawned wolf-bitch
was coming for me over my left shoulder.  My disbelief was so
multi-fold, that it wasn't until "The Zipper" had gotten ahead of me
that the synapses in my right foot finally started to fire.

My brother: the husband, the father, the med. school
student...........the guy passing me on the inside of a left hand turn
in an 81 Jetta redlined in second gear.  I managed to get a glimpse at
the crazed look on his face as he imposed his whole ridiculous setup on
my vision and hearing.  He was laughing maniacally.  A rapid fire and
near instantaneous surge of different emotions pulsed through my being.
The first was the kind of unadulterated fear one feels when some
unknown, threatening sound, climbing unrelentingly in volume, poofs all
current thought patterns into non-existence and replaces them with one
thought: "I thought I had more time."  While that feeling wasn't quite
replaced or completely banished until a few hours later, others at least
quickly took over.  The fear was over ridden by anger which was
partially displaced by a combination of confusion and amused disbelief.

By the time I had the upper hand again (on the road, if not on my
emotions), I had salvaged a superficial feeling of superiority, and had
a complete appreciation for the creativity and hilarity of my brother's
move.  I laughed all the way back to the house where we both continued
to laugh about it and exchange boasts.

While the Mustang at wide open throttle reeled in the Jetta fast enough
for me to get position, I still think he won that day.  My display was
ugly.  Late to react, I just had to let the crude and ridiculously loud
289 rattle and shake "The Beast" up to speed.  Plus I had the inside,
safe and legal side of the road for the right hand sweeper coming up.
His move was just superior.  He likely also has the most entertaining
recollection of the event.  I thought the look on his face was a treat,
but I've been assured, and believe, that in the instant that un-holy
howl hit my ears, the look on mine was, hands down, more entertaining.

    -Mike