The Smell of Victory

Most of the time was spent trying to get the big, black monster up in the air. We pushed it. We jacked it. We fought with the son of a bitch. But $50 cash money, a few dead beers and a starter later the Jinx started up for the first time in three years.

Damn it was a beautiful sound. You could still here the clacking of a sticky lifter, but the old 455 purred like a sabertooth cat. The rich, high octane fuel smelled better than lavender or roses or fresh cut hay to me. Unfortunately it was strong enough to make the place smell like the back room of the Humane Society, but at that moment, Saturday afternoon, the tart's birthday, the '65 98 came back to life.

Maybe I'll keep it afterall.