To: firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com, BGoldstein@aol.com, firstname.lastname@example.org, friedmsa@UCBEH.SAN.UC.EDU Cc: email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com, friedmsa@UCBEH.SAN.UC.EDU, RCA001@juno.com Subject: StutzDV32 From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Lance Martin) Date: Sun, 25 Jan 1998 12:08:22 EST
Dormant Power The DV32 Stutz was an apt and unique automobile, with a penchant to run but reluctant to idle at low speed in traffic. A stock Stutz, taken from a showroom, had been entered in, and won, the internationally famous Le Mans race. The Stutz slogan flaunted, "When you pass a Stutz on the road, you pass with the drivers permission only," Almost daily, with the change of humidity or barometric pressure, I would have to readjust the micrometer settings of the multiple jets on the dual Winfield carburetors, in order to obtain maximum performance from the high-strung, powerful, engine. The two door, custom sedan, disguised its powerful potential. Early one Sunday morning, I was on my way to visit Edythe, when I was aware of a Studebaker convertible,. The top was down showing three boys in the front, and two in the rumble seat. They were passing and drinking from a liquor flask, boisterous and dangerous. I was irritated when the driver would pass close to parked cars and one of the occupants would smash the cars side mirrors, or at times the windows. An old man, carrying a newspaper, was crossing the street when the Studebaker with blaring horn veered toward him. Startled, the old man, clutched his paper and quickened his steps to get on the sidewalk. He tripped at the curb, fell and the paper went flying. The revelers waved and laughed as they passed him while he was getting up. Further on, a dog was crossing the road, and the driver delicately swerved to run over the dog. Their laughter could be heard above the final yelp of the dog. I was angered as I approached the dog. I could not help. A few convulsive shudders and the broken, bloody body lay still. There were very few vehicles on the road. But the Studebaker would dart toward the few oncoming cars, forcing them to swerve. They would crowd and force cars to the curb as they passed them. The driver spotted me behind him, and slowed his erratic pace. I did not want any damage to the Stutz, or a confrontation with them. I quickly and unexpectedly, swerved into the opposite lane, and passed them. They raced after me, and I blocked their moves to pass.. I slowed at a corner, and as they almost plowed into me, I made a rapid right turn and sped away as the Studebaker, with brakes squealing, passed the corner. Explosive anger flooded me, I circled the block and followed far behind them. Some trucks, carrying cargo to shipyards in preparation for Monday departures, were turning onto Atlantic Avenue as the traffic light turned red at Fourth Avenues. The Studebaker stopped and I came up behind it. I timed and judged the distance of a lumbering, chain driven, Mack truck approaching the intersection, then I put the Stutz into low gear and pushed the Studebaker. The startled driver, with his foot on the brakes, glanced in surprise at me. The Studebakerís brakes were no match for the awesome power of the Stutz. The Mack truck hit and crumbled the front of the Studebaker, as I made a quick turn and sped away.