Drag King ?
The need for speed is the primary reason that’s pumps up the adrenaline of petrol-heads. The hunger for going faster, the thirst for higher octane and the want to reduce timings between point A and point B and then comparing them to others who attempt the same. Basically all this is can be summed up in one word called a ‘Race’. Just like any other game, a ‘Race’ comes in its own versions and flavors according to the tastes of the people organizing them or participating in them. The end result though is simple, be the first to cross the finish line. One of the flavors of Racing, is the simple yet popular, Drag. The track is a 400 meter straight, or a quarter of the American distance measurement standard, the Mile. Two cars or bikes blazing off the start at the blink of a green light, battling it out till the finish line.
A couple of months back, we decided to have our share of the fun. We decided to drag. On our turf, the blinking of the green light was replicated by the waving of a hand. The road isn’t exactly straight every time, nor flat. Its full of bumps and slight deviations. What a time to start the fun, just at the beginning of rains. So add to our track, a hint of potholes and loads of gravel and also, a wet surface. When I entered the scene a black hatch producing 100 odd horses with a performance filter charger was the car ruling the finish line. Unfortunately she was also in the same segment as mine so she was undoubtedly the opponent to beat. Or so I thought. When I entered the first race with a same car as mine, I was a little tensed. Like a kid who is about the enter school for the first time in his life, my heart was pumping out more frozen blood cells than adrenaline. I had played around earlier on traffic lights but this was the closest I could get to the real thing. Not knowing what my competition was just adding to my tension. As soon as the hand indicated go, my car squeal into a huge wheel spin on the wet and gravel shooting me 2nd off the line. But the brilliant mid range kicked in as soon as I shifted to the 2nd gear, edging me ahead of my opponent. The next couple of gears made sure I stay ahead till the end with at least two cars distance between mine and the other. This first race victory gave me an immense confidence boost. The next set of race finished with the same result. Suddenly I had become the unbeaten car of the day. It was quite easy that day. Slowly the inevitable happened and my confidence was turning into over confidence. But the next weekend dawned and as we were getting ready for a series of races before sunset, my confidence was dented when I heard that the black hatch was on its way to claim its crown back. Though it was giving me the creeps, I was also waiting for it. After all, a petrol head would never like to accept defeat, theoretically or practically. On all my single cylinder bikes, I could never win even if I had the technique, just because of those extra kilos armoring my skeleton. I always needed something that had enough torque to carry my weight across the finish line before the opponent. Here the car was giving me that opportunity. I didn’t want to give it away. I wanted that race. I wanted to win, again.
There was another sedan in the line up. A sedan that is highly under-estimated in our country and its styling turned down because it was too European. My thought process was in the same lane and I never really thought she can hold a torch to my car in the drags. I agreed to race that car, thinking it would be a very good practice round before the hatch would start gunning for me. We lined up at the start line. Both engines were revving, though the sound was coming from only one of the two. Even this sedan was running on a performance filter that was giving her a roar. This time around, my car was first off the line. But the other had an even better mid range than mine and she just slid past me in the next gear. I couldn’t believe my mid range being beaten like this. My tacho needle was climbing towards its peak power but for some reason I felt it was not reaching the track. I was losing out. Suddenly the top end came to my rescue with my final gears giving me a hairline victory over my foe. My brain was shivering; I could believe that this heavy Brit-look alike Japanese would give me such a tough time. There was nothing that I had done wrong. Though the result was in my favor, I didn’t like the package it came in. This was just a teaser of what was yet to come. The black hatch, who was the earlier drag king, was supposed to be even better. It was down to power-to-WEIGHT comparison again. Again, in spite of all the power and torque, every kilogram was going to matter on the negative side.
Finally she arrived. A black hatch. No frills, she was not like a performance machine trying to look like a family car or vice versa. She WAS a performance hatch. Every edge and curve on her was shouting it out. She shared a few chromosomes with some of the best race cars built to date. She was focused, she didn’t want to race with anyone else but me. She wanted to reclaim the crown that would make her owner the drag king again. I could smell a battle. I knew it was not going to be easy. The start line was alive again. Everyone wanted to see this race. There were no favorites. No one could judge who would take whom. Both the engines were revving hard this time. All I could see was my own lane. As the hands went down, both the cars smoked the tires and the clutches. Red lining the engines. Eight cylinders were burning octane faster than our thought process. More than a 150 horses were galloping with fury on the track. The tires dissipating liters and liters of water on the side with each passing rotation. Both the cars going neck to neck with each other. The peak power in the final gears was my ultimate weapon. And it performed better than my expectations. It did go faster in the final 100 meters. Giving my a few feet lead over the other car. The race was won. But it was not over. It was supposed to be best of three now. 2 more to go. With every passing race, my lead kept on increasing. Out of the 3 legit races that happened, I had won all three. Rather, my car had won all three. With smoked clutches too, she had managed to perform better than anyone else. Since then I have retained the crown of the drag king, though it really doesn’t mean much. I know better competition will come, with more power. In the small town of mine, we don’t have tuners that would make any difference. But the day I participate in bigger, national level drag championships, I will be battered down. But I will participate because I know I can perform, if not the best, at least the better.
Till date, in my segment, I won’t really call the black hatch as my most difficult competition. The endless thorn in my side will be undoubtedly the sedan, the brit-look alike Japanese sedan.
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