quote:
dat is de Hot Rod van Jay Leno. Met een tankmotor.
http://www.caranddriver.com/article.asp?section_id=4&article_id=8789&page_number=1quote:
Not long ago, while inspecting these and other oddballs in the three-building collection where the motto is "More money than brains," we were introduced to the "Tankrod." It's a 21-foot aluminum-bodied roadster on shaved Goodyear garbage-truck tires with two cozy seats situated behind what appears to be a small oil refinery. It looked dangerous and expensive, mayhem with headlights. At once we knew we had to tell you about it. To do that we had to drive it. To do that we had to develop a story pitch.
A few inquiries revealed that the car is not the work of Jesse James, Boyd Coddington, or even ExxonMobil, but one Randy Grubb, a glass artist from Grants Pass, Oregon. Grubb announced to his wife one day in 2001 that he was taking exactly one year off from making $10,000 antique-style French paperweights to realize a vision that was forming in his head around a 2000-pound Continental AV-1790-5B.
That's an engine, specifically, an aluminum air-cooled 1792-cubic-inch V-12 making 810 horsepower and 1590 pound-feet of torque. Doesn't ring any bells? Uncle Sam ordered up thousands of this mother of all motors for the 51-ton M-47 Patton tank, the nation's first line of defense against communists, aliens, the Blob, anything that threatened America in the '50s. Powered by gasoline at first, the engines were quickly converted to diesel when gasoline proved touchy in the presence of exploding munitions.
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Turn two large arms on the dash to fire up the twin magnetos in the nose, then hit the starter. The exhaust concussion is huge, thunderous, like a locomotive running Flowmasters. Strangely for a 21-foot car, there's little legroom. The round rubber knobs that are the gas and brake pedals are worked by separate feet because there's no space to shuffle around under the steering column. Passengers regularly bump elbows, and there's no glove box or trunk, although there is a coin holder.
Wherever Leno drives the Tankrod, he's the star of his own comic book. As we roar down the driveway, he yells, "Here we go—two crime fighters off to save the city!"
The cooling fans waft a 180-degree furnace blast at our faces, and the V-12 backfires on every lift like Wyatt Earp unloading his six-guns. The 8900-pound car pulls up an on-ramp like, well, like a tank. Flooring the gas pedal speeds up deafness but won't get the engine to rev any faster. The sumo-size pistons and connecting rods simply won't be rushed. The Continental likes 1500 rpm, will grudgingly rise to 2800 rpm, and that's that. Let the transmission change its gears to go faster.
From lock to lock there are 11 revolutions in the steering, so any turn begins a few car lengths in advance. Threading through traffic takes nerve; although the ride is relatively calm, the big frame can buck a few feet in either direction over a bump. People accustomed to driving a school bus from the back seat will feel right at home.
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[ Bericht 38% gewijzigd door Googolplexian op 03-11-2005 15:14:14 ]