Because I just found out a way to make the Cruiser turn 13.5s without unbolting a thing:

So how did it work? Awesome. Simply awesome. We started out with a 50HP nitrous jet with 100% excess fuel. Hitting the horn at 4000RPM in 2nd gear felt like 15 lbs of boost. Were we happy? Nope! Onward to the 75HP jet and only 50% excess fuel.

Ok no, I won't blow the plenum off the only real car we own just so I can, well, p3wn his black redneckMobile. But you never know... it'd be worth threatening to do this just to watch him twitch off the line when I blew the horn*.

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* True story: Jeff and I were at my workplace once, and Ellen picked me up in her old V6 Alfa Milano. Jeff was following us (in his then green, slightly earlier model Trans-Am) out to the highway so he could get home. Arlington is a sea of four-lane street roads with traffic lights, so in the dark winter night it was inevitable. We eventually pulled up side by side at a red light. I could tell Jeff wasn't paying attention, so I decided to have some fun. "When the light turns green, nail it, but let off after a hundred feet," I said.

"What?!? He's in a Trans Am... he'll stomp us!" she exclaimed.

"No, really, this'll be fun, just do it."

BOOM!!! Off we went, six Italian cylinders thrashing. Jeff was watching, I dunno, some other car or something, and so we immediately jumped out ahead. It didn't take long for him to hook it up and blow past us, but by then we'd already shut down, street code for "done." We had beat him off the line. To a street light samurai, to be beaten by a dinky Italian sedan was the ultimate dishonor.

"See! He just blew past us! What was the point?" she asked.

"Wait for it," I said.

Sure enough, two lights up, it goes red, and there we were, side by side, nobody behind or in front of us.

"Rev with him, but don't move a muscle when it goes green," I told Ellen. A good sport always, and pretty sure what was going to happen next, she even ticked it into neutral, zinging the high-strung Alfa 6 and giving Jeff her most innocent grin.

When the light turned green, it was like the world exploded in tire smoke and engine roar. Windows rattled, small children cried, and priests crossed themselves as our erstwhile drag-race ninja tried valiantly to reclaim his and his Pontiac's honor, to no avail.

Because you could almost hear the theme from the Godfather weeping in the background as Ellen, unprompted, calmly put the Alfa into gear and then slowly pulled even with him before the next light.

"Here," I said, "endeth the lesson."