I don't know why I thought of this today, but it brought a smile to my face. One Sunday after church, Johnny and I lined up to race our Camaros on the road next to the church. I was in my '68 Camaro and he was in his '71 Z/28. We took off, and I had him on the jump. By third gear, he was walking away from me. Along with the factory LT-1, which was a screaming engine, the Z/28 had a 3.08 gear, which was great on the top end.
 
Later that day, a deacon from the church called my Dad to tell him about us racing. My Dad asked, "Who won?"

Dad talked to us later and said that if we wanted to race, we shouldn't do it in front of the church.

I loved how Dad always had our backs and didn't punish us for small things like drag racing on the street. Back then, there were not many cars on the road, so it was not as dangerous as it is now. He did make us responsible for our actions. Had we gotten a ticket, it was up to us to take care of it.