Greaseball waited til the Vette was ready then edged the Chevy up alongside. With a brief nod they both acknowledged the starter and each other. The hankie fell to the ground and Greaseball dumped the clutch. The 427 screamed and the tires howled trying to acquire a grip on the asphalt surface. He left ahead of the Vette and wanted to build as much as he could before they got to the winding parts where the road became the Vette's. If he could just stay within a few seconds at the Curve, that long straightaway beckoned for the power of the mill under his hood. Right now he had a lead. Had to stretch it out. The twists and turns were coming up soon.