THE EDITORIAL WE
by Le Sabre, Invicta and Electra

My mother said she named me after the daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon of Greek mythology, and this may have been true—but I find it hard to put aside the fact that daddy's first new car was a Buick Electra, purchased the year I was born—1959. He wasn't very musical but my earliest memories are of him singing bits of an old Buick jingle while he worked in the garage:

"Le Sabre, Invicta, E-leccc-tra—Buick, THE car!

Editorial continued on page two

MAKING WHITE LIGHTNING
by Gerard C. Smith

Making WHITE LIGHTNING takes a couple of bushels of corn, a hundred pounds or so of refined sugar, yeast, good spring water, a big old galvanized tub, an old car radiator and fire—or my novel approach!

NASCAR racing goes back to the late nineteen forties and booze looms large in NASCAR's history. Running illegal whiskey (white lightning) in souped up automobiles is at the root of American stock car racing, thus the title, WHITE LIGHTNING—a murder mystery set in the world of the National Association of Stock Car Racers (NASCAR) and tied to big time Winston Cup competition, NASCAR's premier racing.

Jerry's essay complete on page three

or:

Jackie Stewart trained BayWatch Girls for an Indianapolis Pit Crew because Sylvester Stallone had WonderBra for a sponsor and some French guys made Richard Petty drink white wine instead of beer.

by Inky Black

Filming of the Sylvester Stallone Grand Prix Movie is under way and under wraps at a secret location called the "Brickyard." A Top Secret Report from Hollywood reveals the script, the plot, the girls, and the drama of "Hollywood Grand Prix." This is that report.

Inky's ephemeral meanderings complete on page four

WOMEN GETTING TECHNICAL
by Tonya Judy

Traci pulled on a sweater and stepped into the jeans she'd left on the bathroom floor last night. She tucked her yellow knee-highs into a pair of work boots and tromped off into the kitchen to the smell of morning coffee. As ever, the coffee—the brewing brown fluid was something she'd come to appreciate less for its hypnotic aroma than its calming effect on her parents.

Teejay's story complete on page five

THE BOYS AT 9TH & VALLEY
by Bob Arter

The year was 1965 and the Ford was 1957, a two-door I bought for $150 at a police auction and the thing was, it was the day of the night of the Big Dance. I don't remember which Big Dance—I hated them all, tux and carnation and Judy would be encased in thirteen different garments so it would be like peeling leaves from an artichoke to reach the tender parts of her, nirvana.

The cops hadn't recovered the keys so I had to start the car with a screwdriver, reach across and goose the carburetor, get it running one more time. When are you going to get keys? Judy kept asking. I'd say, Hey, I'm working on it.

Bob's story complete on page six

HOOTERS AND HONKERS — POETRY

by John Kilroy aka CyberClem