Okay, the motor was now installed, and it was the moment of truth. Frank started up the new engine. For three months I'd worked to bring Project M3 back to life. Would it be worth the wait?
Initial start-up was done at 2000 rpm to get the oil pumped up quickly through the valvetrain. The evosport technicians had put in non-detergent oil for this first half-hour run to help filter out any loose metals. After replacing the contaminated oil by conventional oil, I was advised to take it extremely easy for the next 500 miles.
"Keep it under 3000 rpm, and don't get into any boost whatsoever. This will allow the piston rings to seat properly," Vadim Federovsky instructed. That's like giving a 3-year-old a lollipop and saying, "Don't put it in your mouth!" I had to complete these miles as quickly as possible or I was mentally not going to make it.
A day and a half went by before I impatiently returned to evosport's doorstep with 502 miles on my trip meter, eager to find out what the dyno would tell us. Even though the car was still running a "break-in" chip from AA, the engine sent more than 330 horses to the wheels at only 8 psi; 10 psi released over 365 hp. In both runs the horsepower peaked at around 5500 rpm and stayed flat through 7000 rpm. Although we didn't turn the dial past 12 psi that day, we still witnessed more than 400 hp at the wheels. With the new AA fuel pump installed, there was plenty of fuel, the air/fuel ratio staying safely in the mid 11s. (Next month I'll have graphs showing higher boost pressures.)
"Alright, let's get her off the dyno. I want to drive it!"
Famous last words.
It wasn't even 5 minutes into my drive. At around 11 p.m. I made a left turn onto the divided highway, absolutely no one in sight. I had more than 500 yards of nothing in front as well as no cross streets. I slowly made my way to 50 (the speed limit) and kept it in third. Then, within an instant of my foot pressing the accelerator, I felt the most wicked rush I'd ever felt in a street car. Just as it is in the best thrill rides, I was pressed into my seat as the g forces and my peripheral vision conspired to make the world rush by in an unfocused haze.
The turbo didn't whine; it emitted a powerful "whoosh" as the enormous amount of air was pumped into the combustion chambers. I kept my foot on the accelerator and watched the tach needle reach 7000 rpm with such a furious rate it became a blur. Then I slammed the brakes and wrenched it back down to 50.
What a rush! The whole event lasted about 3 sec.-and that was all the motorcycle cop hiding up ahead in the darkness needed to write me up for 92 mph. I hope this newfound power and engagement with law enforcement isn't the start of a trend. It's time to slow down, but it's also time to invest in a radar detector.