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MARY'S GOT HER GLASS PACKS NOW: Chevy thunder, baby!


"When waves and ripples are emitted, energy vibrating at a certain frequency will become waveform and sound. Only now we are discovering this extraordinary world through the lens of quantum observation. Likewise, water is an uncanny transformative storer of information, and as the human body is composed of some 90% of water, it is recording everything---our environment, our emotional state and our bio-rythm....."


I believe that I can speak for most bikers, when I say that we experience a universally powerful and visceral response, every time we start our Harleys up and hear that distinct sound, that loping idle with that unique cadence. For me, it's almost like my own heartbeat, keeping rythym with it, and sending stimulating waveforms to the pleasure centers of my brain. The end result is a euphoric emotion so strong, that it feels like my heart is swelling with love for the motorcycle. I literally experience a physical expansion in my chest with soaring, positive emotion, an emotive sensation that reaches up and into my skull. The term "love" comes to mind.

I have a similar reaction when I start my '72 Corvette Stingray up. I get this undeniably irresistible love-like emotion, when I hear her Chevy Heartbeat. As with my Harley, there is a symbiotic clamping between my heartbeat and that of my Chevy motor, a joining of souls across the abyss---or a synaptic jump between species. Sounds crazy, but it's true. My sounds and their (Mabel and Mary, my bike and my car) sounds, mate, to form a holy union of sorts. All of you bikers and Chevy guys out there, know of what I speak. I just took steps to make that emotional experience with my Vette even stronger. I had glass packs installed on my ever-lovin' Stingray, Mary.

I love glass packs. They provide a straight-through, throaty and lusty roar from the Small Block Chevy (SBC) when the gas pedal's mashed, balls to the wall, that says, "I own the street," and a rumbly and authoratative rumbly-rumble idle, that can't be matched in the automotive world, in its beauty of note and symphonics. A pretty girl is like a melody, and a righteous sounding Chevy or Harley is like a completed song. Beyond how emotional I feel when I hear my Stingray's beautiful bellowing exhaust notes with glass packs, the sound of an unchained Chevy V-8 is one that connotes power and poise, at the same time.

The lusty sound announces to one and all in the vicinity, that lying within the confines of that V-8, is a power to be unleashed according to the discretion of my throttle foot. I get a similar feeling while on my Harley, that the world is my oyster to be eaten with as much Lousiana hot sauce as I want. The hot sauce component of course, consists of the sounds of my Chevy and Harley. They tell the world, "We own the world, as long as our master is piloting us!" The sounds of my Vette with glass packs, is a Declaration of War on the mundane.

The sound of my Vette with glass packs, is a statement.

Just like the sound of my Harley is a statement to those around us, the sound of an angry Small Block Chevy, is unforgettable, etching lines of memory on the surface of one's brain. It is the sound of instant torque and limitless joy. Forget the high-winding whine of a Ferrari V-12, man! Nothing sounds as good in the car world as the All-American muscular sound of a Small Block Chevy when mated to glass pack mufflers. It is a scream with balls attached to it. I had glass packs on my first Vette back in the '60s. This was my 1964 Corvette Sting Ray (Note: The original Sting Rays of the '60s, were spelled as two words, "Sting" and "Ray." The later Stingrays of the early '70s combined the two words to form "Stingray"). For my 1972 Vette, I chose JEGS' well-made "Flowpack Bullet" glass packs.

JEGS' "FLOWPACK BULLET:" Stainless steel construction with long strand glass fibers

I chose JEGS' Flowpack Bullets for their rugged construction, and the use of long strand, high-temperature glass fibers that resist compression. I loved glass packs ever since I had 'em on my first Corvette, who I christened "Unnamed Vette." It was with Unnamed Vette (who by the way, even though unnamed, was a female---as all vehicles are) that I learned what a beautiful compromise glass packs are. Glass packs are in between the untamed cacophany of an open piped Chevy, and the insignificant quietude of a Chevy with stock mufflers. The former with Unnamed Vette was too loud (I had cutouts welded onto her pipes just aft of the headers), attracting police attention like the sound of World War Three. The latter, stock mufflers, relegated the magnificent sound of a Chevy V-8 to the Like All The Rest silent majority on the street---totally unacceptable to the auditorily attuned.

GLASS PACKS: Essentially a straight-through design.

Glass packs are virtually as effective as totally open exhaust systems, because glass pack mufflers utilize a core pipe that is of a straight-through configuration. This core pipe however, has openings in it for some of the exhaust gases to pass through to the glass fibers where some of the sound energy is be absorbed, making what is a deafening racket, into a measured roar. This gives a Small Block Chevy a throatier and mellower sound than a totally open system. Glass packs are the perfect compromise for a car that should sound like it means business, but without sounding like a nuke just went off. As it is, glass packs might be too loud for some, but not for me. To me, it is music to my ears---and stimuli for the pleasure centers of my hungry brain.

These glass packs happen to be my Christmas present (a little early, but what the hey) from my loving wife, Patty. Normally, Patty finds it very difficult to Christmas shop for me, because all I ever want is sumpin' for my bike or my car, and I usually don't need anything for 'em. So, my desire for glass packs for Mary made short work of Patty's Christmas shopping for me, this year. Thanks a lot for the glass packs, Hon!

Let me tell ya, the way that Mary sounds with her glass packs, gives me goosebumps, the same way that the sound of my Harley Mabel gooses up my skin when I crack her throttle. If ever there was any evidence that the sound frequencies emitted by my Chevy and my Harley, are causing waveforms in the 90% water content of my body, and that these water-borne waveforms are giving me the pleasurable emotional responses that I get---then my dermatological response is that evidence. Hey man, goosebumps don't lie. Whoever knew that a righteous sounding Harley or Small Block Chevy could cause such a new agey, feel-good response in humans? I'll tell ya who knew: Bikers and Chevy Guys, that's who. Later.