Burning-up that quarter mile in ground-pounding action!
In approximately the time it takes a nitro-fuel ground-rocket to cover a quarter mile of unforgiving asphalt, you can call Las Vegas Racing School and sign-up for your wish-come-true Las Vegas drag racing experience. It took you longer to read this sentence than it takes to make the call, and your favorite funny car is idling while you hesitate!
You will feel your whole body pancaked into the driver's seat, and you will feel your face pressed against the back of your head while your entire self vibrates at a very high speed. Your Las Vegas drag racing fantasy is about to roar to life! The lights on the "Christmas Tree" will descend from red through amber and yellow to green, and once the green light flashes, if you see anything at all, you mostly will see your whole life flashing before your eyes. For approximately ten seconds, your entire universe will consist of acrid smoke from those big slicks, hellfire blue flames from your exhaust, and the deafening thunder of a few million cubic inches of mega-horsepower internal combustion. And, when it is all over and you have kissed the Nevada soil and given thanks to all things divine, you politely will request, "Do you think I could do it again?"
The Beach Boys wrote anthems to these monster machines.
You remember those big voices on the big rock and roll stations: "Sunday! Sunday!" they reverberated, reminding you only a fool would miss "Big Daddy" Don Garlitz and Shirley "Cha-Cha" Muldowney blasting their nitro-fueled monster machines off the line and tearing-up the quarter mile. The Beach Boys and Jan and Dean wrote anthems for these awe-inspiring chrome and rubber testimonials to America's domination of all things automotive. Too many horsepower for mortal men to count, and more scorching rubber than all but the strongest women and children might handle. Although the commercials have toned-it-down a little bit and put a hip-hop edge on the message, the dragsters are still burning up quarter-mile dragstrips around all the nation's finest cities, including, of course, Las Vegas.
And, of course, it's not an accident dragsters also are known as "funny cars": those tiny little bicycle wheels on the lightweight front end and those huge grown-man-tall slicks putting the torque to the pavement in the back. Not a hint of balance or proportion, and almost no concern for steering whatsoever—just run that baby on rails, and go as fast as you possibly can. In fact, the g-force at a dragster's peak acceleration is almost equivalent to a fighter jet's full-power vertical climb. Who needs a Space Shuttle when you can feel that power right here in Las Vegas?
When the light goes green, pop the clutch and blast off.
Yeah, do that with the car; but first do that with the phone. Push the digits and make the call for Las Vegas drag racing. Fifty-one weekends a year, you rev the ride-on mower as if you were watching the "Christmas trees" descend from red to yellow to green. This weekend, give the yard work a break and yourself the thrill of a lifetime, drag-racing for real at a track near Las Vegas. Quench your need for speed. Be the envy of all on Monday, after all, you have the pictures to prove it!