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I've wrestled with posting the full story here for quite some time - but it's probably best here, hidden away, rather than creating it's own thread.
Mis-Adventures in My Life
So there I was, in the Congo, also known as Westland, MI. Working at Roush Racing, in the race shop too many hours to count, while the Ferrari 330 GT 2+2 languished in Florida. Our Grandfather (google for Russell Beazell) took young Jason (my brother) for a ride in the Ferrari
and a valve decided it had exceeded its N cycles and started jumping around from cylinder to cylinder. Even jumped across the intake manifold to cylinders on the other bank. Off the car went, across the state to Shelton Ferrari (who I later ran a Formula Atlantic car for).
Many thousands of dollars later, 12 to be specific, the engine was better than new. Higher compression, no more leaking oil down the valve seals, etc. And Russell lovingly broke in the engine. Jason headed to Finland (thus his nickname on this board, which means...nevermind), I headed to Connecticut, and the car was exercised only occasionally by Granddad.
After almost a year in CT, where I was PLN's crew chief, new management came on board, and promptly fired me. The day I was leaving for vacation back in FL. On Friday, November 13th, 1987. Thanks guys, had I known that was going to happen, I'd have purchased a one-way ticket.
Upon landing in Tampa, my friend and I scooted down to Ft. Myers. Our plan was to spend the night there, pick up the Ferrari, then head across to Ft. Lauderdale, where nubile young things awaited us. Now whilst I was in CT, the State of Florida decided I-75 needed to stretch south of Tampa. And in typical fashion, they were in the process piecemeal, so there was a section finished just east of Ft. Myers. That night, we decided to go out onto the closed, but finished, section of I-75 to validate Granddad's claims that the engine was "much stronger".
Somewhere in excess of 150 mph (probably closer to 165), the right front tire came apart. Violently. Which wasn't really a problem, until the wire wheel folded up. The shoulder on the right was little more than a soft lake shore, so the car hooked to the right, the left front tire dug in, and a series of barrel-rolls began. At least 6, according to FHP. Finally, the car ended right-side-up in the lake.
Upon regaining conciousness, my buddy and I clambered out of the car, waded to shore, and walked/hitchiked home. The next morning I could not bend at the waist, so a call into an ambulance service was necessitated. And that's when they wanted to know a) how I came to be in such a predicament and b) if it was possible to call off the dive and rescue team.
Granddad? Oh, he was in Australia/New Zealand at the time. His comment upon returning? "Darn good thing it was you driving, and not me!" The car (powertrain was fine, btw) was sold to someone who used the good bits, including the chassis plates, to make a 250GTO replica.
Lorie! Thx - DDR was 
It was pre-you...surprised Jen never told you about it 
