It didn't take long for that engine to be installed, running and tuned up (again, mostly on second shift). Elapsed times dropped again, first to low elevens and eventually to high 10's (best ET on the truck was a 10.71). Things were going great; we were terrorizing the Proving Ground and we were having a blast.
Then, things started to change. I came in to work one day and, laying on my desk, was a clipping from an enthusiast magazine. The title was "Is it True?" and the article said something about these engineers at the Milford Proving Ground, and that they had put a 454 in a pickup and were "...laying waste to unsuspecting Corvettes and Trans Ams..." or some such thing. I thought it was pretty cool and mentioned it to John. He didn't seem to think it was so cool for some reason.
Some time after that I came in and found another piece of paper on my desk (this was back when we still had "mail" - ie, not email). We had a standard form letter, called a "Vehicle Disposition Worksheet", that we got about once per week. It told where vehicles were going, where they were shipped to, or what they were doing. I scanned this particular letter until my finger stopped cold on one line: "Vehicle CP5085 - Final Disposition - Scrap". All the blood ran from my face; John was sitting there and with a parched mouth I asked "...John, why does this vehicle number look familiar?".
He looked around and said "...step into my 'office'". (Naturally, we were already "in his office" - which was MY office, too. What he meant was "come with me to my truck". As fleet coordinator, he could order whatever vehicles he felt were necessary. One vehicle that was ALWAYS necessary was a white/red Crew Cab dually, diesel, with Alcoa aluminum wheels. He always had at least one of these vehicles in the fleet, and since it was the "Queen of the Fleet", we always called it "the Queen". A secondary meaning was that it was as large as the Queen Mary. At any rate, "step into my office" = "come with me to the Queen so that we can discuss this privately").
We sat in the truck in the parking lot and the story began to unfold: Our boss, Jim, was a pretty easy going guy. He had kept a blind eye to all this fun and frivolity, but every man has his breaking point. When the little blurb in the magazine came out, well, that was the last straw. He had called John into his office a couple Fridays before and said (...and I quote...): "John, that truck has notoriety far beyond what you think or imagine. I want it gone and I want it gone NOW!".
John could see that Jim was in no mood for negotiation. However, by the next Monday (after this meeting), when things had cooled down a bit, he had a proposal. The truck was currently broken (broke a rocker arm stud) and not running. Could he repair the engine, so that the motor could be stored as an intact, functioning unit, and THEN scrap the truck? Jim thought that would be ok, so the plan was carried out. The truck was repaired, stripped of all the goodies, and the remaining hulk (ie, cab, box and frame) scrapped.
CP5085 was no more...
...Or was it?........