#sr16ve

[pontaku]

N15　Pulsar　VZ-R

[seat-safety-switch]

I was an LBC anthropologist, dedicated to visiting boomers in their retirement home and capturing the best of their knowledge about Triumph GT6s, Austin-Healys, Reliant Rialtos and yes, in the end, even the MGB, before that knowledge could pass into the next world, lost to us forevermore.

To gain their trust, I would appear in an immaculate, well-restored Triumph Spitfire, but i would never show them what laid under the hood. "Twin carbs," I said, and then conspiratorially, "Weber DCOEs."

If they ever looked, they would realize my betrayal immediately. Where they expected to see last century's innovations in exploding fuel technology, they would instead bear witness to a turbocharger so immense that I feared driving in playground zones lest it ingest a preschooler whole. It wouldn’t be incorrect to say that the billet impeller was the true heart of the engine, pushing enough compressed air to make a dive shop jealous.

Behind and around the turbocharger was the whirling, angry vortex of an SR20VE, infused with long-rod screamo power from SR16 rods. The headwork only made a beautiful combination better; imagine if you will a pair of wide-overlap turbo cams bursting with obscenely bulbous lobes as long as your pinky finger, speaking through ports so clean and straight that the curvature of the earth beneath your feet was made obvious by comparison. This Zen garden of airflow let the mill oscillate between profane bursts of torque-filled rage and harsh, pining wails when its keg-sized turbo slowed, a momentary victim of the otto cycle’s capricious whims.

When this baby was on tap, the Spitfire lived up to its name, sharp machine-gun bursts searing your retinas as the twin fuel rails pushed gobs of nitromethane to their explosive demise, flames dragged across the two or three lanes the small car’s rear axle liked to walk between when it was really pushing. It changed men to witness it: i was noticing a definite uptick in my day-job business, once-civilians now drafted into the battle between horsepower and homeownership, ready to die on the interstate battlefield, their dead hands still clutching my weapons like a favourite child.

But I digress from my story; such a thing always happens when I fixate on the howling icon of rage in the corner of my life that makes tire engineers stay up at night. I arrived at the Shady Pines Retirement Co-Operative and pulled into the parking spot a little hot. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I released the clutch, but I had been made. White hair began popping up from behind fences; I had exposed myself, I was no longer a purist. I was a hot-rodder. This was certainly not the kind of boomer I had wished to attract, but perhaps I had been deluding myself to think that the subjects of my anthropology could escape noticing the 16 inch wide Hoosiers out back.

I had barely had a chance to knock on the door of my quarry’s residence when I came face to face with a double barreled shotgun.

“The Japs are back,” he screamed at me, despite not being alive for the period during which “The Japs” menaced American infantry. “And they’re taking our roadsters!”

[alexxxis92]

Nissan sr16ve; honda killer

[pontaku]

[pontaku]

My　Pulsar　VZ-R

[godzillr]

Day - 019 on Flickr.

[godzillr]

Dat VVL kick ♥

[godzillr]

So it turns out that a SR20DE rocker cover gasket fits my SR16VE. So clean and shiny :)