CLICK
and CLACK
TALK
CARS
by Tom & Ray
Magliozzi
Dear Tom and Ray:
My son, 16, bought a 77
Pontiac Grand Prix. Its loud, with a big
motor (muscle-car-type motor, original
everything). He sawed off the exhaust pipe to
make it even louder, even though I told him he
could get a ticket for this. He proceeded to tell
me that this car "deserved" to be loud.
He got pulled over by a police officer, who told
him he needed to make his car quieter. He tried
to put the clamp back on, but it doesnt
hold. This brings me to my question: He asked me
if duct tape will be OK to hold the pipe to the
rest of the exhaust system, without starting some
type of fire. Im not a car expert, so we
agreed to ask your guys. - Rob
RAY: Duct tape is pretty hearty
stuff. But I dont think its any match
for pressurized, 800-degree exhaust, Rob.
TOM: Traditionally, weve
always used frozen concentrated orange juice cans
to patch up exhaust pipes. But sadly,
theyre now made out of cardboard. So we now
recommend empty tomato paste cans.
RAY: Better than that, your kid
can go to his local auto-parts store and buy an
adapter. Almost all auto-part stores sell metal
sleeves that are either slightly larger or
slightly smaller in diameter than your exhaust
pipe. The sleeve serves as a coupling, where you
stick the severed pieces of the exhaust pipe in
either end, and then clamp them down to hold them
in place.
TOM: Its a cheap repair,
and it wont last forever. But based on your
sons approach to this car, I dont
think youre going to need to plan for
forever.
RAY: If you want something a
little more permanent, take the car to a garage
or a muffler shop, and ask them to butt the pipes
together and weld them.
NASCAR THIS WEEK
By Monte Dutton
Blast From the
Past
HAMPTON, Ga. -- Its
always hard to compare the greats of different
generations. Stock car greatness has a lot of
levels.
For instance, at Atlanta Motor
Speedway, a 1971 Mercury Cyclone sat in the media
center as if it were on a showroom floor.
Although David Pearson didnt drive it until
1972, its a car he actually drove. One he
drove as well as anyone who ever drove a stock
car.
The occasion was the
promotional prelude to the 50th Coca-Cola 600,
scheduled for Lowes Motor Speedway on May
24. Pearson, 74, won the pole for 11 consecutive
races, though the track was then known as
Charlotte Motor Speedway and the race the World
600. The Mercury sitting a few feet from Pearson
wasnt the one he drove in all those
qualifying sessions. Nor was it the one he drove
in four victories and 14 poles.
Pearson, who quite possibly was
the best stock-car racer who ever lived, looks
fit enough to give the cars of today a decent
shakedown. He doesnt have the desire
though.
In the blunt, unvarnished
simplicity of language that has marked his
career, Pearson said simply, "There
aint nothing about racing now that I
like."
Leonard Wood, chief mechanic
during the glory days, is from a family that
still competes in NASCAR. He wanted nothing to do
with Pearsons rant, though he was sitting
right next to him. Pearson, of course, lives
comfortably but not ostentatiously in his
hometown of Spartanburg, S.C., and no longer
relies on imperial NASCAR for his livelihood.
Asked if hed like to go
out and mix it up with the stars of today in
Sundays Kobalt Tools 500, Pearson said the
only thing he wished was that the money being
made now was the same being made back then.
Pearson, who won 105 Cup races in 574 tries, won
$2,836,220 in his entire career. Thats more
than Matt Kenseth has won this year, but just
barely.
Pearson isnt an angry or
bitter man. Hes almost dispassionate when
discussing the racing of today. Its not
like hes wearing a sandwich board and
picketing the racetrack. Hes just listening
to questions and answering them. He doesnt
have much need to think one way and talk another.
Referring to the
ultra-technical lingo of todays drivers,
Pearson said, "About half the time, I
dont think they know what theyre
talking about. Whoever heard of putting a quarter
pound of air in a tire and being able to tell the
difference? All theyve got to do is move up
the race track or come down three or four feet,
and itd be the same thing."
Pearson doesnt like the
routine nature of how fields are set, with 35
locked in before the first car takes the track,
and the very idea that a driver gets a free pass
on the lead lap after dawdling his way off of it
is anathema to this product of the Whitney mill
village. Hes from a different age and
doesnt much care for the one now.
But this age would be a lot
more fun if Pearson was in it.
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