Ford Maverick com Flowmasters - ronco do motor
Preparado pela Pedrinho Racing, aproximadamente 330cv no motor. Comando mecânico, bielas forjadas, cabeçotes fluxados, balanceiros roletados, dimensionados full, etc, etc, etc...
Ronco clássico de um V8
Existe coisa mais linda que um ronco V8? claro que não, e aqui vai um pequeno exemplo da "música" mais linda que existe, estrelando um Mustang '68:
CARAVAM VS DODGE RT NO 16° FESTIVAL FORÇA LIVRE
MAIS UMA BELA PUXADA NO FESTIVAL FORÇA LIVRE CARAVAM VS DODGE RT......................Injetados e Aspirados de Joinville......................
renascimento dodge charger 1971
Restauraçao de um Dodge Charger 71 abandonado por mais de 25 anos, 10 meses de trabalho e mais um V8 volta a vida.
Dodge Charger R/T no dinamometro
Charger R/T motor feito pelo Glauco da R/T Performance de Taubaté. O R/T desmanchou o pneu na velocidade final de 265km/h com seus 490cv.
Ronco do Escape do Chevette
ta ai, pra quem queria ouvir hehe..
o ronco dentro do carro é Fera demais.. chega a incomodar as vezes :)
Dodge Charger 1968 blown hemi
this is Nick suckow's car in September 2008 before it was stolen. If you have any information about this dodge charger please let me know. http://www.weau.com/home/headlines/33732019.html# Back in 1984, high-schooler Nick Suckow bought himself a '68 Dodge Charger. He was gonna fix it up and roar down the road. Nick was born a gearhead. A hot rod. From the first time he drove, he drove hard. The redline was always at hand. When he joined the Army out of high school and shipped to Germany he got hooked on the autobahn, where you could ease over to the left lane, stomp the foot-feed flat, and shoot, they just let you go. "Fast," Nick likes to say, "isn't the same as reckless." All that racing around, and then life served up a grim little joke: The day Nick Suckow wrecked - the day his life changed forever, the last day he ever stood on his own two feet - he was going 35 miles per hour with his seatbelt on. He'd been married two weeks. He and his wife were on their way home from their Wisconsin honeymoon, making the run back to Texas in Nick's Gran Prix. They were towing a rusted-out Ford Bronco - Nick always had his eye out for a cheap beater, and he had found one up north. On a rough stretch of road Nick crawled in the Bronco to keep it straight. The front tire hooked a pothole. The tie rod snapped. The seat belt broke. He landed in the ditch. The Bronco landed on his neck. Nick says he remembers the sun in his eyes. Then the darkness closing in. A lot of years, then. Hospitals. Home. Hospitals. The marriage ended. Back to Wisconsin. Rehab, and more hospitals. The speed demon, not going anywhere fast. But eventually he had them drag that Charger out. Arranged to get it in the shop. Whenever he had a little money, he'd get some work done. "They whittled away at it," he says. "I told my mom, if I die, dump my ashes in the fuel tank, and I'll go down the drag strip one last time." Seventeen years. Seventeen years of learning how to live from the neck up. Seventeen years of whittling. Hed show you the latest pictures - a quarter panel here, a shot of primer there, a couple tires. He'd get down to the shop, supervise in person when he could. He couldn't run the wrenches, but he could run the show. He'd sneak out for a little speed fix sometimes - once a paraplegic friend strapped Nick's chair to a motorcycle sidecar and they blew down the road, one good pair of arms between'em. Nick says it was good to feel the wind on his face. On a sunny day in October of 2006, Nick Suckow's pals helped him slide from one set of wheels into another. They strapped him in the passenger side, and you could see the anticipation on his face, even behind the mirrored shades. The car cruised out of the lot, and then picked up speed, the blower making a Mad Max whine as the wheels warmed to the road. After a nice easy ride, the Charger pulled to a stop on an isolated little stretch of blacktop. There was a quiet moment, before the driver wound that 426 fuel-injected blown Hemi up tight. Then Nick Suckow gave the nod and went fishtailing down the blacktop on a journey that had never really ended. http://www.musclecarrestorations.com/suckow.html
