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go z racer, go

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Everything posted by go z racer, go

  1. Biker--- Here ya go mate, as promised, your "Mick" graphic. I should have another one done by mid week.---Jerry
  2. Carl & BIKER---Your right, it's Carl Fogarty on his factory Ducati. Man-O-man Carl, you don't miss a thing, an abstract no less. Biker, I'll have a Doohan graphic for ya by weeks end.---Jerry BTW--By chance are you a Mark Webber fan?
  3. BIKER: here's one of my two wheel graphics
  4. Lone Star Z-----I believe the "notch" (found on the E31 and early E88 heads) is designed to ideally "position" the fuel and air mixture to the electrode tip of the spark plug. As well as increasing the compression.----Jerry
  5. go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  6. Koreavet--- Not real sure as to when Nissan made the change from E31 to E88. However, given your relatively low vin # (and assuming they match your block) and your quite sure the E88 in question is the original, I would say you have the "good" E88. It's identical in every way to the E31 with exception to casting. It's actually superior to the E31 strength wise. E31s are prone to cracking between valve seats. Most likely due to there use in high performance applications. I run an E31 but I have an early E88 as a back up since these heads are reaching their thirty-fifth birthday. Check out this post: E31 & E88 Cylinder Heads contributed by: Carl Beck, IZCC # 260 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note: The question of, "which head do I have and how can I tell them apart", comes up often in any discussion of the E31 and E88 heads for the L Series Engines. I know these are not the best pictures of the combustion chambers - but they are better than nothing - and are intended to support any discussion of this subject... The E31 head was used on the 1970 and 1971 Model Year Z's. There are at least two E88 heads. One was used on the 1972 Model Year Z's and the other was used on the 1973 240Z and the 1974 260Z. For performance applications the 1972 E88 is considered a better design, thus yeilding better flow than the later E88's. You can spot the E31 and early E88 heads because they have a distinct notched area just to one side of the spark plug hole. The later E88's lack this notched area and are smooth on both sides.
  7. MEL GIBSON Real Name: Mel Columcille Gerard Gibson Birthday: January 3, 1956 Place of Birth: Peekskill, NY Education: National Institute of Dramatic Art, Sydney, Australia He's a bloody Yank! Say, Biker, Mick Doohan, marvelous talent, a true "peoples Champion." A very skilled and upbeat chap with his ego well grounded. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching his dominance while campaigning the world 500cc GP. Tough as nails too. He shows up each race day to give it his all, regardless of GP point standing or injuries. I once watched Mick recover from a poor start to finnish third. On most days he finishes first, I know. However, what is remarkable was his effort to gain that third place. It was one of greatest 4 lap exchange for position (in any mototrsport respectively) that I had ever seen. Rarely does a Champion (who, by the way had already snared the title) put all on the line, but this race was in Spain and they love him; he was not prepared to let them down. Afterwards, in the post race stewards lot, he could barely manage to climb off his bike. He limped off to the award ceremony with a gait of an old man in search of a sofa. Once on stage, he fought off the pain standing tall to acknowledge the cheering Spaniards in mass. What a fighter! TAKE BACK THE SIMPSONS?...D'OOOOh! 1 Bravo 6, the high quality dialogue found on this American TV Icon week after week are almost Shakespearean like. Homer quotes: Marge, where's that metal thing ... you use to ... dig ... food? Professor, without knowing precisely what the danger is, would you say its time for us to crack each others head's open and eat the goo inside? Wow, there we go again, now it's cartoon dialogue! What should we discuss next? The "High Master." Biker, your absolutely right about this particular post. It does seem to have "a life all it's own." It's in orbit! To borrow a phrase from Austin Powers (a Brit no less);..."Why won't you die?"---Jerry
  8. thank you for Mad Max Hey Mates--- I have noticed a small, yet palpable "rift" amongst the Yanks and Aussies. Our culture, our history, are so much a like. I don't get it. We survived "Men at Work", your Crock Hunter survived NYC subways. What's the big deal? On the subject of your fine continent, Australia, I wish to thank you for giving the world Mad Max (albeit, starring a Yank)...Fosters, KB, "Nine inch Nails" and especially for giving me my childhood idols ; Nat, Peterson, Cheyne Horan, Rabbit Bartholomew, Carrol, Occy, and Mark Richards to name a few. In my youth, surfing once consumed my every waking moment. Surfing was my world and Australian Surfers were Gods. Once, many years ago, I was enjoying my local break presenting four foot glass A - frames. Yielding great right handers with even better lefts. Bowls, with back breaking thick lips throwing out against a gentle offshore breeze. Four foot waves are ideal for a young punk with an ego and sporting a brand new thruster. The frosting on this cake? I had it all to myself! Well, for the first hour anyway. Then, this guy paddles out and parks it right next to me. Now, this particular break isn't on the mainstream surfers guide. It demands a better than average skill level and a familiar face. Surfing is very territorial, an ugly by product of over population and carried out by members belonging to traditional surfing sub cultures. So, naturally I analyze this stranger for hints to his origins. However, neither he, his wet-suite, or his board, offer any clues. Although, his board was littered with logos, like a floating billboard in heat. Unusual. We looked at each other without speaking. Neither one of us showing any OUTWARD signs of concern for the other. Who is this guy? More importantly, who does he think he is? Hell, as a kid I had to fetch lost boards (pre leash), I had to give-up position without hesitation to the Alpha dudes for years. I had to drop in eight foot, south swell, close-out sets, just to get my hair wet. Occasionally handing my beers over to an Alpha and his Beach Bunny at keg parties. Only after paying my dues (correctly) as a youth, was I allowed "in." I know this must sound medieval, but trust me, there are laws to surfing. A pecking order if you will. I never stopped to ask why, because unlike school, here in the water, stupid questions DO exist. Everyone else is surfing further north. This guy took cuts. Today, was okay though, no senior Alphas in sight, and there are plenty of waves, for me. Besides, acting barbaric wasn't really my style, I just wanted to "fit-in." Then, my Achilles heel surfaced. On the pier located just yards away from where we sat floating a small crowd began to perch on the guard rails. To include a few JR. Lifeguards (my coworkers at the time) they wasted no time and began taunting me like so many Jackals. Peer pressure, it's the youth's equivalent to a silver-bullet. Hey, what are friends for, right? At first, I was picking off the choice waves (local knowledge) and seemed to have things in hand. On a long paddle back after connecting a set to shore-break, I saw him orchestrating his magic for the first time. He wasn't bad. In fact, he was good, real good. I had work cut out for me and the cackling raining down from above was growing louder. I had to pick it up as it were. So much so that I was actually having one of my best days ever. We were literally trading off, taking turns. Each one now visibly watching the other. The invisible bar never rested, it was being raised with each wave. Shortly thereafter, it became increasingly clear as to who was doing all the raising. I was behind on all the score cards. My lungs could no longer conceal the toll this "cold war" was having on me. Ego, and peer pressure (no pun intended) fueled my determination to keep pace. My silent opponents state? He was fresh as a daisy. Ah, but just then, I felt a strong onshore gust. Now, normally, for a surfer, if an onshore wind develops, his session is doomed. However, on this particular day, I was thankful. I looked out past the break and noticed white caps. Conditions were getting poorer by the minute. Low tide was an hour away, it was over. I was saved by the bell. Without hesitation, I rode the very next wave to shore. Thank you Big Kahuna! I stood facing the now horrible conditions of the pacific. No form, no sets, no fun, "victory at sea." A common transformation from glass to ripple when noontime approaches. So, what is he STILL doing bobbing around out there, whale watching? I watched a while longer. Nothing. Ankle snappers. Then, I notice a decent wave developing. Nothing great. Nothing like the ones I carved to pieces earlier. Likely the last one of the day. Too bad he's not in position. Then, I notice his head snap towards the direction of the wave mentioned, it's the only one. He begins to scratch for it. Again, what is he thinking? He's too far away. Years later, the following sequence is still as clear as ever. He's accelerating across the choppy surface like a torpedo. Closing distance like nothing I've seen before. Displaying smooth and deliberate strokes, he closes in. The wave crests, his efforts have positioned him on the right shoulder, this particular break favor lefts, and this wave is no different. The wave peaks, with three quick strokes he leaps unto his feet, it's a late-takeoff by any standard. He handles the near vertical staircase like descent (thanks to the wind) and carves a LEFT turn! What is he thinking? All that work to establish position, for what? A short right with a workable face is better than bouncing in white-water watching helplessly as a steep left unwinds without you. Evidently, he feels the same. As he nears completion of his bottom he forcefully pivots onto his forward leg snapping a crisp 180 degrees he explodes straight up, up, up, up, he floats over the cascading white-water. Up, up, until he reaches the top of wave. He then crouches forward as he turns to reenter the wave-from BEHIND! Gravity and forward momentum carries him down the wall of white-water with lighting speed. He unleashes a vicious bottom turn to burst through the waves cascading waterfall, vanishing. Gone, poof, he simply disappeared! Though he lacked the traditional topcoat and magic wand his emergence out from the liquid tunnel was absolutely magical. Like all good performers he new when to quit and he rode out the balance in check. It's one thing to watch a Champion succeed in his/her respective sport, it's quite another to witness a sport evolve. I had just witnessed the future in my chosen sport, executed to perfection on a less then ideal stage. I eagerly awaited along the shore to meet this surfer. I enthusiastically acknowledged his innovative skills and confessed my earlier I'll fated attempt for his respect. He introduced himself as Bart, an Australian. He dismissed my apologies as unwarranted, and suggested it was nothing more than two guys putting on a show for the land-lovers "Good fun" he said. We met the next morning at my suggestion, he and his mate asked if I would show them "new breaks." It was no secret that only a handful of privileged outsiders were welcomed there. Fortunately for me, one it's premier locals, "the Bear," was currently dating my older sister (he would later become my first Capt. in the Fire Department). He was my VISA card to liquid paradise (only to lead me later into fiery infernos, life is strange). The dynamic Aussie duo were an instant hit. Upgrading my VISA to gold by association. Not bad for a sixteen year old punk with pimples so large I started naming them. I felt like someone special around those two. He commanded the earth as effortlessly as he did the ocean. Instead of trying to aggressively fight, shred and demolish the wave he established a relationship with the ocean. He was well aware to the fact that surfing, generally, took place on the face of the wave. He showed us how to have more with what we already had. As children, most figures we claim as heroes eventually let us down. If by nothing else, they have the audacity to grow old (save for James Dean). To this day I make great effort to incorporate his philosophy whenever possible; it doesn't come easy for me, but then, I'm not a natural. Approximately two years later, Barton Lynch, the Natural, became a World Surfing Champion. To make a long story longer, I for one think you Aussies are "good fun." Cheers Mate!---Jerry BTW---Did I remember to thank you for Elle McPhearson? What about Rachelle Hunter...hey did I mention Rachelle Ward?
  9. Carl Quotes: "Aw, come on, anyone as into porn as Pee Wee can't be ALL bad!"... "The only good pilots are the ones who survive to die of natural causes...Running out of fuel is a stupid mistake, even if the pilot in question is a drunk!"... "Funny, that page mentions John Denver not being a sniper, but fails to mention that he wasn't much of a PILOT either!"... "Well, we will have to agree to disagree on John Denver. The only report card that ultimately counts is the one earned when you land safely"... "Translation please? Is this Aussie Ebonics?"... You kill me Carl/Bambikiller240 (forgive the cheap pun). I have thoroughly enjoyed reading your battle of wits, albeit, against seemingly unarmed opponents. However, it's all in good fun!---Jerry
  10. go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  11. #33

    go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  12. #46

    go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  13. m l

    go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  14. go z racer, go posted a gallery image in Big Z Photo Collection
  15. Mr. Rodgers, an ex sniper? Now you see, that's why nobody messed with his neighborhood.
  16. Hardball starring Carl Stahlnecker Numbers don't lie man, numbers don't lie.........I love it! Thanks Carl.---Jerry BTW---I dig Nash Metropolitans...long live Pee Wee!
  17. TKR514--Let me see if I read you correctly. Your decision to purchase the 280ZX over the earlier Z models was based on the following : a.) improved gas mileage b.) improved aerodynamics c.) improved structural integrity. If that is correct, and it sounds right to me, why didn't you take the time to ask yourself one more question? What did those improvements actually equate to? You know, your a smart guy. Why then is the 280ZX at the bottom of the performance chart to include reduced gas mileage as compared to the earlier Z models and in stock trim? While the F54/P79 ZX L6 was stronger than it's predecessors (BTW most 79 280ZX came with 280Z N42/N47, I'd check your brochure if I were you, but not the one that "sold" you on the ZX is better than a Z brochure), it was implanted in (as you say stronger structure) into a heavy-comfortable chassis. Bigger chassis just means more mass, more air to push. No way could that ZX with, as you say "better aerodynamics," out run a stock 240Z. No way.----Jerry BTW---Please excuse my ignorance, but just what is a Nash Metropolitan anyway?
  18. lipstick & pigs I have written this in response to resent concerns over observed Z models. NOTE > As with most points of view, there exists a contrasting thought, so having said that, should you become offended, don't be, don't take me seriously, no one has yet. For better or worse, the reliable (non technical) strength drawn from Nissan's (albeit licensed under Mercedes) L6 with it's distinctive growl and it's 1960s borrowed chassis has me hooked. It's been my (humble and, limited at best mind you) experience observing the evolution of various Japanese sports cars that "more" isn't necessarily "better." The genius to produce an automotive package equal in class (to respective market), yet, more reliable and with a price tag reflected at a fraction of the established makers dissolves with time until your left with a "comfortable," "feature" ridden shadow. It's my belief, that the greed governed corporate generals apply pressure to the designers to improve on "the wheel." To attract the masses, your advertising billboards need to shout "new and improved practicality" under a sports car banner. I can hear the designers now, "what have you done to my baby?" The once proud Greyhound, is now a pig adorned with lipstick. Face it, only a few of us can truly appreciate driving a vehicle without "individual climate zone controls," or "voice activated" 22 speaker, 100 CD disk, 1,000 watt, digital surround sound system. No, we "endure" by hand operated window-cranks, and "button/knob controlled" AM/FM radios; 8 track if your lucky. Hand free cell phone appliance? Hell I can't even hear it ring, and that's with the windows rolled up! Wait, I just remembered I make a living sitting backwards in a fire truck with loud series all day...okay, scratch the last one off. However, consider the following, me personally, as in sex (stay with me, I do have a point), sex that's loud, physical, and demanding my complete attention, is my idea of fun.....a ringing cell phone right in the middle of things will not enhance this moment (unless it's her bisexual girlfriend, but then that would be pure fantasy, more beer, or $50 bucks.....nope, more than likely I would have to turn the lights on and dig the dam cell phone out from my jeans, thus revealing her less than supermodel looks and my Johnson leaving no doubt as to why I'm not a porn star--- just as in driving, my F1 pit stop would reveal a red light two blocks from work). I realize for some, that may have been a long walk as far as analogies are concerned, but do ya follow me? "Hard work" (sorry for the cheap pun) is relative. Bottom line? A vehicle adorned with all the amenities are unwelcome distractions that limit your driving experience. If by nothing else there combined weight alone goes against the sports car principle "power to weight" ratio. Look, maybe it's just me, but I like driving Z cars, not ZX, ZXT, or even ZXTTs. Just "Z " cars, respectively.---Jerry
  19. I have written this in response to several posts in the past suggesting an expansion to this website's observed Z models. I argue as to why? Let us be. NOTE > As with most points of view, there exists a contrasting thought, so having said that, should you become offended, don't be, don't take me seriously, no one has yet. For better or worse, the reliable (non technical) strength drawn from Nissan's (albeit licensed under Mercedes) L6 with it's distinctive growl and it's 1960s borrowed chassis has me hooked. It's been my (humble and, limited at best mind you) experience observing the evolution of various Japanese sports cars that "more" isn't necessarily "better." The genius to produce an automotive package equal in class (to respective market), yet, more reliable and with a price tag reflected at a fraction of the established makers dissolves with time until your left with a "comfortable," "feature" ridden shadow. It's my belief, that the greed governed corporate generals apply pressure to the designers to improve on "the wheel." To attract the masses, your advertising billboards need to shout "new and improved practicality" under a sports car banner. I can hear the designers now, "what have you done to my baby?" The once proud Greyhound, is now a pig adorned with lipstick. Face it, only a few of us can truly appreciate driving a vehicle without "individual climate zone controls," or "voice activated" 22 speaker, 100 CD disk, 1,000 watt, digital surround sound system. No, we "endure" by hand operated window-cranks, and "button/knob controlled" AM/FM radios; 8 track if your lucky. Hand free cell phone appliance? Hell I can't even hear it ring, and that's with the windows rolled up! Wait, I just remembered I make a living sitting backwards in a fire truck with loud series all day...okay, scratch the last one off. However, consider the following, me personally, as in sex (stay with me, I do have a point relevant to cell phone-driving), sex that's loud, physical, and demanding my complete attention is my idea of fun.....a ringing cell phone right in the middle of things will not enhance this moment (unless it's her bisexual girlfriend, but then that would be pure fantasy, more beer, or $50 bucks.....nope, more than likely I would have to turn the lights on and dig the dam cell phone out from my jeans, thus revealing her less than supermodel looks and my Johnson leaving no doubt as to why I'm not a porn star--- just as in driving, my F1 pit stop would reveal a red light two blocks from work). I realize for some, that may have been a long walk as far as analogies are concerned, but do ya follow me? "Hard work" (sorry for the cheap pun) is relative. Look, maybe it's just me, but I like driving Z cars, not ZX, ZXT, or even ZXTTs. Just "Z " cars, respectively.---Jerry
  20. Controversy, controversy, controversy, "it's the stuff of all good writers".....my English lit professor hammered that fact in to me. Albeit, this example is in the from of a graphic...hey, "a pictures worth a thousand words." Saddam and 911? The bottom line, HE DIDN'T DO IT!---Jerry
  21. 71 240Z round top SU carburetors in good working condition with linkage/ $100 includes free shipping to anywhere in the US
  22. Can you hear me now?
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