My buddy and I embarked on an adventurous mission of participating in the 24 Hours of Lemons racing with a 1986 Prelude we bought. The journey began in New Orleans, known to be scorching hot, where we devoted our time from June to August to revamp our cherished vehicle. Fortunately, the previous owner had aspirations of Lemons racing, so we had a head start. However, the perplexing vacuum system in the car left us astounded, questioning how any Japanese engineer could possibly deem it a success.
During the late aughts, we proudly transported our precious Prelude to the nearest Lemons Race called Can’t Get Bayou at Circuit Grand Bayou in Belle Rose, La. It was a sweltering atmosphere, feeling like a scorching 4 billion degrees. We decided to take our Prelude out for some practice laps on the track…
Little did we know, our failure to drop the oil pan would prove catastrophic. As it turned out, one of the previous owners had improperly sealed the pan using RTV, causing it to melt and obstruct the intake. This unfortunate event resulted in the oil drying up and eventually destroying the engine.
We had to inform the two individuals who were set to join us from Texas for the race, one of whom was the original owner. However, instead of turning back, they immediately took to Craigslist in search of a suitable replacement car. Miraculously, they found one that seemed promising and purchased it for $500 while en route to our location. Meanwhile, we began preparing our car to receive its new engine. Throughout this chaotic process, we received immense support and assistance from fellow teams in the paddock and the race organizers. It was a heartwarming experience to witness the camaraderie among Lemons racers.
The replacement car arrived in the evening of the first race day. We wasted no time and tirelessly worked to detach the new engine from its automatic transmission (and original car) in order to pair it with our manual transmission. However, at around 2am, we were dismayed to discover that the engine and transmission were incompatible. Defeated, we decided to call it a night and drown our sorrows with a few cold beers.
Despite the setbacks, we remained at the race the following day to celebrate the victorious participants. To our surprise, we were bestowed the You Got Screwed award, which garnered enthusiastic cheers from our fellow racers. Additionally, we received a $500 prize, which we promptly handed over to those kind souls who had purchased our ill-fated donor car.
In the subsequent races, we continued to put numerous miles on our less-than-ideal but beloved carbureted Prelude at various superb southern racetracks (Barber is absolutely phenomenal). Nonetheless, that initial race, where we technically never even raced, remains my most cherished memory in the world of motorsports.
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