Of all the car guys I pestered in my childhood, I remember only one. While most of the neighborhood gentry contentedly passed their time messing around under the hoods of tired pony cars while sipping cheap beer and cranking proto-rock from the finest sensationally titled riff vendors FM radio had to offer, Gary?maybe his real name, maybe not?had it bad for the Chevrolet Suburban. Or maybe that?s just the only vehicle he had to work with. Either way, after a summer of watching various performance components find their way onto the ?Burban, Gary took me for a ride that nullified everything I thought I knew about the relationship between speed and mass. READ MORE ??
...