The next day, the Katech crew offered me the keys to the Camaro as we headed out for lunch. The adrenaline and elation of the previous day had passed, replaced with New York skepticism. It was possible that in the next hour, I'd be breaking out the old "No! No problem that your thinly veiled race car died in traffic ... I'll call AAA ... Don't worry about it, I've got 'em on speed dial. By the way ... those shocks are hooked up, right?"
Standing in front of the building, I heard the unholy beast start up, then it rumbled around the corner with Jason driving. He hopped out, and I navigated myself through the 'cage and reached for the seatbelt. "Does this have the factory belts?" I asked. "Nope, you'll have to use the harness." And it begins ...
But two hours, four tacos, and one personality-delete waitress later, I arrived back at Katech with a smile and without a good amount of tread on the tires. It didn't stall (though with that cam, it had every right to), handled fine, braked well, and scared the bejesus out of the Mustang driver behind us as I went WOT through two gears.
Which begs the questions: Do we really need 427-powered Katech Camaros terrorizing the streets? Cars that'll do 10s at the strip on your choice of tire, and are a cam, a seat belt, and a catalytic converter away from a commuter car? Should the public even be allowed to buy one of these minions, able to tempt good God-fearing folk with the dark power trip of opening this LS7's throttle, hearing the Flowmaster shriek, and feeling like they just opened up the gates of hell?
I'll struggle with my demons ... good luck with yours.