It was a nice summer day in 1975 and I had just bought a used Mustang 428 CJ. Me and a friend were testing the car our in and around the streets of Beverly Hills and had just take off (leaving a lot of smoke and rubber) from a light on Rexford and Olympic. Zipping past a sidestreet, we notice a cop - who coincidently takes off after us. A chase starts and I push the limits of the almost 400 Horsepower engine in an attempt to put some space between me and 5-0.
The roar of the engine as I closed in on 100MPH was something that you cannot describe, but something you have to hear! The car was doing what it was made to do - go fast!
I turned a corner and headed up Beverly Drive and noticed another cruiser had joined in the fun. I made a quick right, then another sharp turn on another street, moving at around 60+. They were still behind me. I made a turn into a T alley and cranked it to make the 2nd turn, zipping down the alley at who knows how fast. The alley was lined with trash cans with lids (that is what they used in those days) and the suction from the speed of my car when I passed the cans was pulling them down behind my car. I looked in the mirror and saw a couple cans lodged in the front end of the cruiser and he was stopping to get them out. That was my shot and I got onto a back street and put the pedal to the floor, blowing stop signs and navigating around slower cars.
A few rights, a few lefts, several redline shifts and I was sure that I put some distance between me and the flashing lights, so I slowed to a more respectible speed and worked my way out of Beverly Hills towards W. Hollywood where my friend lived. We got to his house and pulled the car into the garage and closed the door.
Since I had not registered the car yet, fortunately for me there was no license plates. The car sat in his garage for about 2 weeks while I got it registered and plates were put on.
The first day I took it out I was scared as all hell, but I knew if they did not nab me by now, that I should be in the clear.
The next day was another perfect southern California day so we went down to Pacific Coast Highway to cruise to Malibu.
At the bottom of the California Incline (where it meets PCH in Santa Monica) the light turned red and I came to a stop behind a pick up. Unfortunately, the idiot behind me did not and he slammed into my and pushed me into the pick up. )Think of an accordian here). Yep, the Cobra was totaled. Insurance? Ooops. Fortunately, no one was really injured.
Total loss here was $2500 (thats how much I paid for the car, which would be worth 50K today) and I had to take a bus home.
Karma? Maybe. Thinking back, that was one helluva fun summer for 2500 bucks!