I think it would be somewhat of an understatement if I told you that I loved the sport of drag racing. It has always been a big passion in my life because I grew up in a family that not only raced, but had a deep appreciation for hot rods.

On a certain Saturday morning in June of 1982, I can recall waking up to the sound of a deep rumble that rattled the windows in my room. Like any 10 year-old, I ran outside to see what it was and it turned out to be the old black car that usually sat covered in our basement. I had never paid any attention to it before because I had never heard it run.

My father had just finished putting the final touches on the '67 Corvette when he asked me if I would like to take a ride with him to the store. I gladly accepted the offer since all of my buddies were probably still asleep. Little did I know that this ride would make such a lasting impression on me.

As we turned out of our driveway, I can remember the deep sound of the big motor as it accelerated lightly through first gear. Not having the faintest idea what I was riding in, I yelled to my father asking him if this car was fast? He never answered me as he gently pulled the shifter back to second gear.

Without any warning, I heard the three carburetors as they opened up and I was greeted with the biggest rush of acceleration I had ever felt. The big motor screamed as it quickly reached its redline, and I will never forget the smile that was on my face and the feeling in my stomach as it seemingly left me! As my dad engaged third gear, the feeling was magnified twofold as the rear tires finally took hold of the pavement and the 427 accelerated us like it was mad at the world! My head stayed firmly planted in the back of the seat for what felt like just a few seconds, then the motor went silent as he moved the shifter back into the neutral, coasting back down to 50 mph. I begged him repeatedly to mash on the accelerator again, but it was to no avail.

I remember smiling ear to ear as we rode back home; my mind was running at 100 miles per hour in total fascination of this car. As we parked, I asked my father to show me under the hood so I could see what was responsible for such an awesome display of power! He lifted the hood as I stared in amazement of how physically large the motor was. I asked question after question trying to learn more. The only thing that I was certain of was that I couldn't wait for another opportunity to ride in this car!

A few years went by and my enthusiasm for hot rods never faltered. As I grew old enough to drive, I remember going to Southeastern International Dragway, our local track, on Sunday evenings and racing the only car I had to drive to school in hopes I would win a trophy to brag on.

On rare occasions the Dixie Pro-Stocks would come to town. My buddies and I would sit and watch in amazement as the cars blistered the eighth-mile track with 4.40-second elapsed times at 176 mph, pulling parachutes to slow them at the end! These were the fastest cars I had ever seen at our track! I will never forget the feeling I had watching them or how I would go to bed at night and dream what it would be like to be in the driver's seat.

And now that I've realized this dream, it's everything that I thought it would be, and then some!

This is the 1989 Mustang in which Gene Wilson made his first pass down a dragstrip while it was still his daily driver in high school. Wison says he eventually built the car to the point where it no longer was streetable and here, he's racing it in heads-up, 10.5-inch tire competition in 1993 at Southeastern Dragway, near Dallas, GA.

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