Hard ride!

The diabolical squeal of tires brought me to the window. I saw a black sports car speeding away from the intersection. Behind it, gray smoke and two zigzags on the asphalt remained.

"But today is Friday!" I slapped

myself in the forehead.

Right. Every Friday, a lot of young people who like to drive hard head to Ordon Street. It's a small street almost in the center of Warsaw, filled with warehouses and industrial plants. And that wonderfully slippery pavement. You can go wild there without any significant damage to the chassis.

So I quickly dressed and went to the local parking lot to pick up my 105. For the uninitiated, it's a Syrena 105 from 1978. Almost original, except for the engine coming from a Volkswagen Beetle and rear-wheel drive. So, when I started the engine, instead of the typical two-stroke rumble and puffs of blue smoke, I heard a deep rumble from the two thick Remus exhaust pipes.

It roared, and a moment later, torrents of gravel flew from under the wheels, and I was off at full speed. I screeched into the corner and cut sharply down Jana Pawła Street. The speedometer needle exceeded 80 km/h (50 mph). The dashboard, consisting only of a speedometer, fuel gauge, water temperature gauge, and a few indicator lights, shook from the roar of the powerful, four-cylinder, 1.6-liter, 90-horsepower, opposed-cylinder engine. Unfortunately, I couldn't eliminate these vibrations because such an engine should be mounted in the rear, but in this case, that was impossible.

At the ONZ roundabout, I encountered a small traffic jam. Standing just behind a bus, I nervously revved the engine. Sometimes the car would shake with a loud bang as flames shot from the exhaust pipes. This happens when the ignition is momentarily turned off at high revs. The exhaust valves then allow the fuel mixture to flow directly into the heated exhaust pipe, where the high temperature ignites it. This is manifested by a loud pop and a flash of flame from the exhaust. The downside to this type of play is rapid exhaust system wear.

Two guys at the back of the bus were laughing and pointing at my car. Their smiles quickly vanished when they saw my 105 barreling out from under the lights with a hellish roar and quickly disappearing into the distance. There were no cars in front of the bus, so I could push it. I reached 120 kilometers per hour. I could have done much more, but I was approaching the Daszyńskiego roundabout and had to slow down because the tram tracks are quite bumpy, and I didn't want to damage my suspension. Right behind me, I screeched into third gear and floored the accelerator. The car lurched forward sharply, and the speedometer needle reached its limiter, stopping at 140. I suspect I reached at least 170, if not more. A Beetle with that engine can reach 190, and it's heavier than a good old Skarpeta.

I slowed down a bit on the curves, but the tires were still squealing. Other drivers were staring in amazement that Syrenka could go so fast. On the way, just before the turn onto Ordona, I caught a guy in a red Golf GTI. It shocked him so much that he danced on the asphalt in amazement, and I used the handbrake to elegantly maneuver into the bend. Just a counter-steer to the right, and I could easily find a parking space. Since he wasn't on the right, I hit the gas on the bend and squealed into a small bay.

End of part one.