There are certain cars, like famous people, that just the mention of their name is instantly recognizable. When it comes to 80’s performance cars, Big Red is a standout. For those who were only in short pants during that time, Big Red is an iconic representation of everything that exudes high performance.

Big Red is the ’69 Camaro created when Dan Gottlieb and his son RJ decided to build a hot rod – a really bad-actor hot rod. What evolved out of that original plan is now a Godzilla-like monster big-block Chevy-powered road racer and open road rocket that seems capable of doing just about anything you could ask of a ’69 Camaro. Don’t be fooled, Big Red is more race car than street car although it is licensed and can be driven on the street. But that’s like saying – yes – you could put license plates on a NASCAR car and drive it on the street.

What rekindled this nostalgia is a multi-part TV production called Big Red: The Original Outlaw Racer that has been five years in the making with RJ and his dad doing things with one car that no one has ever done before. I watched the first of eight one-hour episodes where we meet the men who have pushed the car to its limits. The first episode deals with Big Red returning to where it made headlines in Hot Rod Magazine in 1990 when I was the editor and staffer Joe Pettitt volunteered to ride shotgun at the second running of the Silver State Classic Open Road Race in Nevada. In Joe’s story, Big Red set a top speed record of 220 mph and also set the overall record with an average speed just shy of 198 mph.

The documentary deals with RJ and his crew returning to the Silver State and enlisting my buddy Joe Pettitt to strap on the bull with RJ at the reigns one more time. At one point, RJ comments on what it’s like sitting in the car, waiting for his turn to unleash the beast. At that instant, he took me right back to my own experience on a nearby Nevada open road race called the Pony Express 100. In 1998, I took my ’65 Chevelle to Nevada just to see how fast I could push that brick. More accurately, my Chevelle was once described — by then-owner of Spectre Performance’s Amir Rosenbaum — this way: “Your car’s not a brick, it’s more like the crinkly side of an English muffin!” Truer words were never spoken.

RJ Gottlieb’s comments about sitting in his race car just before the start of the race went deep with me because I felt almost the same way. Except I think RJ probably had more confidence in his car than I had in mine. I was sitting in line with 17 other cars in the 150 mph class at the Pony Express 100. I could feel my heart pounding and my breathing was a little too rapid. The faster cars ahead of me were leaving at one-minute intervals, which offered more than enough time for the more conservative side of my brain to scream “What the hell are you doing?” Of course, there is no rational answer to that question. The risk was exceedingly great. I knew from the year before that the Chevelle was capable of 165 mph. But I also knew that at that speed the car was very unhappy. It continually attempted to fly by lifting the nose to the point where the front tires were only suggesting a direction when I turned the wheel.

But there I was, sitting in line with my friends just outside the car waiting for me to launch. There was no turning back. The risk was high and the reward was little more than bragging rights that I could push an English muffin to ridiculous speeds and live to tell the story. Looking back, I’m glad I did it, but I certainly could have found a much less dangerous way to spend the weekend.

It was fun watching the Big Red TV show and I even have a short part in the retelling about how I was surprised when Joe was willing to get back into the car. My good friend Chris Kaufmann was another early Big Red supporter and was with RJ in Mexico when they crashed. Luckily, no one was hurt. It was after this accident that Big Red really got serious. Big Red’s path and mine briefly paralleled again in 2011 at the Virginia City Hill Climb.

This race is a fun yet treacherous assault on Highway 341, a 5.2-mile, 1,200-foot climb up the mountain heading into the famous silver mining town that was once the richest city in America. I blew up the transmission in my Chevelle that year but Big Red ran strong – as it always does. The documentary is very well written and produced, which makes watching it a pleasure rather than the groan-fest of current-day “reality” car shows. Do yourself a favor and catch it on the NBCSports channel or just Google Big Red and immerse yourself in the baddest Camaro on the planet.