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Pretty much anyone into late-model GM performance cars knows who Chuck Mallett is. Those people also know that Chuck builds random and radical development models to push technology as far as it can go. And then he pushes beyond that, with occasionally humorous results. This C6 was no different. Having had no problems with the stock 'Vette fuel tanks, Chuck utilized them in his massively-turboed, 400-inch Corvette. 900hp? No probalo, right? Click through for the probalos.

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Chuck Mallett's attempt to flip the bird at CARB in San Diego. Think it worked?

Mallett claims the car will do around 220, and judging from the burnouts he left in San Diego (see the above pic for the aftermath), we've got no reason to disbelieve.


However, the 'Vette's got twin tanks. One of them failed, leaving Chuck and his co-driver Danny Coyle with only eight gallons of capacity, and since the sending unit for the gas gauge was in the dead tank, they had to listen for the sound of a stuttering fuel pump to know when it was time to pull over and dump more gas in via the lo-tech jerrycans they'd picked up along the way.

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Chuck checks the fluids before the heroic blast from downtown San Diego to Fontucky

But here's the best part. On the way from San Diego to the California Speedway, with Danny at the wheel, the Mallett boys blasted past us while we were in the lead, followed by Noah Lehman-Haupt in the Ford GT and the Team Chris 911. There was crackle over the CB about serious police activity, but the relative stealth of the "Question Our Blackness and We'll Get All Stokely Carmichael on Your Ass" A8L kept us safe. Somehow, the Mallett boys ran the gauntlet, but Christian, Christopher, Noah and Rob got busted. Ironically, the Chrisses actually weren't speeding, and the officer who pulled them over in tandem with the GT (hit by another Chippie) didn't want to write them a ticket. But the guy who nailed the GT ordered him to write Team Chris a ticket.


A few miles later, we saw the yellow 'Vette on the side of the road, with Mallett pouring gas into the tank. Not five minutes later, the overhuffed Plastic Fantastic blasted past us on the hard shoulder doing well over a buck. We joked that we'd see them 500 feet from the entrance to the Speedway with the hood up (the only time the car's hood seemed to be down was when it was moving) and Chuck furiously praying for the laws of fluid dynamics to work at twice their normal speed.

Instead, we pulled in to see the ass end of a seriously fast C6. We were second. But y'know, after that performance, we didn't feel all that bad about it. Plus, Chuck's a good dude.

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