Belly Whompin' 101

Belly Whompin' 101

Did some one ask for the Belly Whompin’ story? Weeeellll….. you’re gonna get it anyway! PPPPffffttt!

If you didn’t grow up were there were dirt roads then you grew up Belly Whompin’ poor. I can only remember 3 of us really Whompin but we sort of took it to a plateau few would dare to go. Wayne did it a few times in his 63 Chevy and scared the kibble right out of our poop chutes. His brother Roy who I swear Jim Croce sang about in “Rapid Roy that Stock car Boy” did it in a few cars, a 64 Chevy Impala SS, a Pontiac Bonny and in my 63 Chevy Impala SS when I sold it to him, he was the original “Dirt Track Demon” (had the hula girl tattoo and everything). I did it in my 63 Chevy SS, an old Toyota Carolla and my 68 Mustang Fastback GT. Yep… I is a #1 idjuit!

OK here is the setup.

Find a dirt road, hopefully pretty narrow and very curvy. Oh yeah, not heavily trafficked would be a good thing too. The road should have some gulleys and washouts. Bonus points if the dirt road comes close to a pond or river. The closer, the more points awarded. Also, any jumps or donut do-able areas contain added value points.

Patience is usually rewarded by a couple days of rain or generally wet weather. We have a time just after winter (Dink Season see other story) that we call the Line Storm. It’s usually a couple days of wet miserable weather that comes in the transition between Winter and Spring. Just enough wet to get a nice skim of mud on the roads and to fill the gulleys and pot holes with water. In other words Slip n’ Slide weather.

The idea is to travel this slick as boogers road as close to the edge of control and as fast as you can. Style plays an important part of Belly Whompin’ as you are required to drift through the turns. Yes drift, as in the new today’s craze by hanging your arse end out as you power through the curves or get her sideways as you empty a mud puddle in the road. It was pre Dukes of Hazzard Dukes of Hazzard driving.

We had one road that was an old farm road and part of it ran along a long pond curving in and out as the pond did. Man…. I can remember my heart interfering with my swallowing process so many times riding sideways looking out the front windshield at the pond while doing 40 or 50 mph! Only to hit a mud puddle and spraying a great wall of brown goo while bleeding down speed only to straighten out and gas her up again.

It was a 68 Mustang Fastback with a 4 speed and a slightly breathed on 302. It had pretty good guts and was just right on the dirt and mud. But the suspension was the gem. With station wagon springs there was not a bit of roll to her and she could fly and land better than the General Lee ever could. I had a 69 Charger 383 too and while it was nasty snarling fast. Just like in Bullitt movie the Stang was top cat.

The Mustang could not be bottomed out so I could fly into the dips and puddles in the old roads. Passengers would be screaming, beating on seats and closing their eyes as not to see the horrific crash they were about to participate in or see themselves go slamming into the ponds of unknown boogity snapping turtle depths.

Once past the pond we’d come to the farm and roll past nice and easy…just some good old boys out for a nice ride on a country road. Nothing to see here….”these are not the ‘droids you are looking for!” and once we were out of sight the foot hits the floor, the smile hits your ears and your underwear begins to tighten up! The second half of the road is all whoop-T-doos and hillside dropoffs. Large trees whose roots ran under the gravel road reached for the speeding metal bezerkers but I cannot remember even a single one reaching us. We kinda felt like they were not real and were only added to the scene to give a greater illusion of speed and danger. Which they did all to well!

All good things come to an end and for me so did Belly Whompin’. I had not done it for quite some time and had bought a great beast of a car. A 68 Impala with a dog slow 307 in it. A big boat of a car and far from one of my favorite cars. Well we had been bending the elbow all day long and I had a couple of friends in the car and we got invited to a party in another town. It was at a favorite swimming hole out in the woods and at the end of a long dirt path. As I nosed the sled into the path I could see it ran some great twisties and it was pretty muddy so I gassed it. We were flying down the path when we literally went flying. Ground control to Major Tom stuff! I know you have seen the Dukes do it and I had done it plenty but that sled was super nose heavy and when re-entry arrived touch…er..slamdown came upon a GInormous rock ridge down the center of the path that that did absolutely no good for my oilpan or flywheel not to mention the whole front suspension. She chugged and clacked to a stop and the lights in her eyes slowly dimmed and unfocused. Que the bugle and the honor guard’s guns! I began searching for the tip of my tongue that I was sure I had bitten off. Turns out I was wrong but my tongue was showing off it’s amazing ability to discharge volumes of crimson fluid.

So we walked down to the party that was soon busted by the cops who asked if I was in the crowd. They told me I had 24 hrs to move the hulk or fines would be levied. So she was carted off to the boneyard and I never went Belly Whompin’ again. Er…. Haven’t gone Belly Whompin’ again…. yet! That’s better!

• I had always thought of Roy as the best driver among us. He had no fear and knew how to make a car do his will. One day while driving my Mustang through town way too fast after a light drizzle I was confronted with a car pulling off into a parking lot only to be stopped with his ass out in my lane of travel. The real problem came when another car that was pulling in behind him saw him stop and he stopped with a gap that looked to be too small for the Stang to get through. I knew it was a little late to stop but I put my foot heavily into the brake anyway and the brakes locked turning the Stang sideways. I downshifted and put the spurs to her and snapped her back into the right attitude and I threaded her through between the two obstacles with inches to spare. I kept going like nothing ever happened after a bit I looked at Roy and Roy looked at me and told me he would never be scared to drive with me ! Ever! And that remains to today some 30+ years later as the most proud moment of my driving ever. I will also admit that Roy was the only person to ever scare me in a car other than myself. In fact he did it a couple of times. You quickly learned to never show fear in Roy’s driving because he fed on it and then he fed on you. Roy left the planet way too early in a diving accident in the Florida Keys. And so it goes. I usually stop and see old Roy Boy a few times a year when I go up to talk to my late father. Their markers are pretty close.

Disclaimer:

These stories are not intended to make the impressionable run out and do these lunatic things. They are for enjoying a story only. If you decide you want to try these things come see me first so I can install the program Intelligence 3.0 into your skull. A simple installation using a Louisville slugger or a ham sized fist depending on your skull thickness will insure safe roads for everyone and extend the warranty on your soul. Do the math Bunky…we are mere mortals!