Nitrous engine guru Pat Musi and his wife Elizabeth returned to the drag strip for the first time since the passing of their daughter Lizzy Musi.

And for Pat, it was a return to a drag strip where he has a storied history

Musi is certain to be a legend in Thunder Valley, but he isn't like his friend Rickie Smith. Some of the stories he tells suggest otherwise. Some are common knowledge, and others will go to the realm of unspoken, as some say they should.

Musi was at the PDRA Thunder Valley Throwdown on servicing his multitude of customers, but couldn't help recalling the memories of days gone by when he raced int te IHRA's Mountain Motor Pro Stock division, where he was a pioneer in the unlimited displacement version of the factory hot rod division. 

"A lot of the guys are either gone or no longer alive," Musi said. "There is Rickie... and he's just going to go on forever. I even raced Pro Stock before Rickie was doing it."

Musi raced Mountain Motors back in the day when a 512-incher was considered a behemoth. 

Smith's fondest memory of the track carved out of the mountains of eastern Tennessee came in 1977, the first season of the big engines. Paired against a lesser-known John Brumley, Musi won one of the most sordid final rounds ever at the IHRA Sundrop Spring Nationals. 

"I'm running John Brumley. He had beat Ronnie Sox," Musi explained. "And he shot the head gaskets out from the motor. Sox wanted him to go by the scales. And John said, 'No, I ain't doing that. I'm going to get my runner-up deal." 

"So John comes over, he goes, 'Look, I'm broke. I ain't going nowhere." 

"I looked, went over, look; he had the head gaskets laying everywhere. The Victor head gasket just shot them out of the motor. So he was dead in the water. He goes, 'I'm gonna stage. Don't do nothing stupid. Just make a run." 

In a scene reminiscent of Barney Fife's one bullet or Jeff Taylor's losing a fixed drag race, Musi nearly fell into the land of embarrassment. 

"Something happened on the racetrack after our burnout, did a dry hop. When we did dry hops back in the day, we'd shut the fuel pump off so the floats didn't flood over. So a lot of guys don't know we did that. So I reached up and shut the pump off. I'm backing up. Then, my typical deal, I'd roll up. 

"Well, they shut us off, shut the motors off. So do my whole routine up there. So I fire up. The fuel pump's off. I don't think about it. Roll up. John stages. I stage."

The light flashed green, and Brumley threw in the towel true to his word. But it wasn't long before he was grabbing for the towel. 

"I let the clutch go. It's making a run. 50-feet, bam, shuts off," Musi recalled. "I immediately knew what I did. I look up. The fuel pump's off. I reached up and flipped it on. Well, John sees, he thinks I'm dead in the water. He's trying to idle down. This thing's banging, missing. He gets about to my door; I restart and make the run. I think I went about 14 seconds or something in the final. I won the race."

After the race, Musi pointed out that Sox took his complaint to Brumley, to which Musi offered to run another final against Sox.

"If you think you can beat me today, let's roll out there," Musi said. "I was ready to race."

The IHRA, known for its unorthodox procedures, shot down the second final. 

"I'm surprised," Musi surmised. "Back in those days, just about anything went."