Larry Callahan
12-03-2005, 07:20 AM
For those of you new to the site I wanted to bring back a little history. A few years ago our own Ralph LoGrasso wrote this for the site and I saved it. I hope he doesn't kill me for posting it again.
:santa3:
Pro-Touring Holiday Anthem
by Ralph LoGrasso
‘Twas the night before the holidays, when all through the shop
Not a gear synchro was spinning, not even a prop.
The tubular upper control arms were hung on the sub-frame with care
In hopes of carving corners everywhere.
The drivers were strapped all snug in their seats,
While visions of victory lane, aroused their feet
And Steevo in streetfighter, and I in Fantom
Revving our engines, to this glorious anthem
When out on the road course, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat, to see what was the matter,
Away to the course, I drove like a demon
I tore up the 335’s with my engine screaming
The smoke coming abreast from freshly burnt tires
Gave the spark needed, from the ignition wires
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a twin turbo camaro, with a leaf sprung rear
With a wise old driver, driving for the thrill
I knew it must be Larry, driving project over kill
More radical than pro-tourers, his g-machines they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, II Much! Now, GatTagO! Now, The Mule! And 50/50
On, G-spot! On, Blade! On F-117 and Extreme-G!
Through the chicane, hugging the wall
Now drive away! Drive away! Drive away all!
As the rear end gives out, and the door sticks with a slam
Each pro-tourer, helps his fellow man
So up to the straightaway, the drivers they flew,
With a caravan full of V8s and turbos too
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the road
The roar of a camaro, it must be twin turboed
As I shifted a gear, and was turning around
Down the straight, Larry came with a bound.
He was dressed all in kevlar, from his head to his feet
His five-point harness strapped him into his Sparco seat
A bundle of tools, he had flung on his back
He looked like a mechanic, opening his pack
His turbos – how they spooled! His twisted vistas how merry!
His engine was perfection, his car red like a cherry!
His Alcons stopped the car on a dime.
The vintage air, cooled him down from time to time.
The ball of a shifter, he held tight in his hand
Whilst jamming to the tunes of conekiller’s band
A killer stance, his car had, it was just plain mean
Perfect was the tuning, not too rich, not too lean
As he got out of the car, it sat low and straight
I cringed when I saw him; it must have been fate.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
Plumbing Scott’s turbos with the help of perk.
Finishing up, whilst polishing the nose,
Up from the engine bay, Larry arose.
He sprang to his camaro, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!”
:santa3:
Pro-Touring Holiday Anthem
by Ralph LoGrasso
‘Twas the night before the holidays, when all through the shop
Not a gear synchro was spinning, not even a prop.
The tubular upper control arms were hung on the sub-frame with care
In hopes of carving corners everywhere.
The drivers were strapped all snug in their seats,
While visions of victory lane, aroused their feet
And Steevo in streetfighter, and I in Fantom
Revving our engines, to this glorious anthem
When out on the road course, there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat, to see what was the matter,
Away to the course, I drove like a demon
I tore up the 335’s with my engine screaming
The smoke coming abreast from freshly burnt tires
Gave the spark needed, from the ignition wires
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a twin turbo camaro, with a leaf sprung rear
With a wise old driver, driving for the thrill
I knew it must be Larry, driving project over kill
More radical than pro-tourers, his g-machines they came,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, II Much! Now, GatTagO! Now, The Mule! And 50/50
On, G-spot! On, Blade! On F-117 and Extreme-G!
Through the chicane, hugging the wall
Now drive away! Drive away! Drive away all!
As the rear end gives out, and the door sticks with a slam
Each pro-tourer, helps his fellow man
So up to the straightaway, the drivers they flew,
With a caravan full of V8s and turbos too
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the road
The roar of a camaro, it must be twin turboed
As I shifted a gear, and was turning around
Down the straight, Larry came with a bound.
He was dressed all in kevlar, from his head to his feet
His five-point harness strapped him into his Sparco seat
A bundle of tools, he had flung on his back
He looked like a mechanic, opening his pack
His turbos – how they spooled! His twisted vistas how merry!
His engine was perfection, his car red like a cherry!
His Alcons stopped the car on a dime.
The vintage air, cooled him down from time to time.
The ball of a shifter, he held tight in his hand
Whilst jamming to the tunes of conekiller’s band
A killer stance, his car had, it was just plain mean
Perfect was the tuning, not too rich, not too lean
As he got out of the car, it sat low and straight
I cringed when I saw him; it must have been fate.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
Plumbing Scott’s turbos with the help of perk.
Finishing up, whilst polishing the nose,
Up from the engine bay, Larry arose.
He sprang to his camaro, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!”