"Occasionally, you can find a brand-new Callaway Twin Turbo Corvette in the showroom of a major Corvette dealership. Unfortunately, instant availability of that sort commonly commands
a $3000 premium. So most people order the car themselves - ticking the RPO B2K option - then drum their fingers on table tops for three months.
  The process starts in Bowling Green Kentucky, where the line workers wait until they've collected a minimum of ten Callaway orders. The Corvettes that are then assembled are special in no way except for the
options their individual buyers have specified - interior trim, exterior color, and the like. When the truck is full, those ten new Corvettes, riding atop a lone tractor-trailer, head up to Reeves Callaway's shop.
  In Old Lyme, the engines are yanked out in a painstaking ninety-seven-step rigamarole and then shipped to Ed Lanier Racing Engines, a local outfit known for its NASCAR powerplants. There the engines are blueprinted,
magnufluxed, and clean-room-assembled per the sedulous instructions of Callaway's chief engineer, Tim Good. Among the new parts are forged Cosworth pistons and a forged steel crankshaft, crossdrilled and nitrided, with
splayed four-bolt main caps. Intake and exhaust springs are upgraded, and new Clevite bearings are fitted everywhere. Oddly enough, the factory camshaft is not changed.
  When the small-blocks return to Callaway's shop, each is scrutinized as if it were unclaimed luggage in a Libyan airport. The bead of silicone around the intake manifold must be a precise thickness. Paint on the block must
a designated density. And each engine must pass a cold leak-down test. Every tenth engine finds itself brutalized on Callaway's dyno.
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It is then commonly dismantled and examined for signs of interior corruption.
  Engines come and go when they're ready, not according to a predictable schedule. Thus, the engine of the red coupe that arrived last Friday may wind up in the white convertible a week from Tuesday. In order for GM,
Callaway, and, conceivably, the police to keep things straight the last four digits on the block are reserialized to match the car's vehicle identification number.
  After the blueprinted engine is dropped back into a Corvette, the real bloody-knuckle work begins in earnest, most of it from beneath the car. A pair of RotoMaster Compact turbos is affixed, flanking either side of the oil pan
in such cramped quarters that the right frame rail must be kinked to make room. A new radiator is installed, the air conditioner's compressor is relocated to clear the right-side intercooler, a maze of fiberglass ducts and tunnels
is grafted to the underside of the hood, the "Wonderbar" crossmember becomes a ram-air box, a high-output oil pump is inserted, and new catalytic converters and mufflers are fitted, as are a pair of extra Bosch fuel injectors, a secondary air/fuel computer,
and a whole new air filtration system. "And that's only the obvious stuff - just a handful of the 1480 parts unique to the Callaway," says Tim Good.
  Apart from some $1500 worth of Magnesium wheels and $150 of stick-on Callaway logos, the remaining $23,895 that you spend for a twin-turbo conversion is money spent exclusively on the engine. "Sure, it's a lot," says Good, "but think of it like this: Who else
produces a racing engine good for sixty, maybe seventy thousand miles?" -JPIII"
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