This is a love story. No, it's not some sappy tale from a Harlequin romance novel, but a saucy, sensuous story with a naughty twist.
The object of affection in this case is once again a Corvette, but this is by no means a monogamous affair. Sure, it was one particular '02 C5 that rekindled in Ken Christley a passion for the model's pure lines and brute power, but frankly, Ken has always been attracted to anything Corvette.
The C5 had been offered up to the engineering department at Kenne Bell, known for adding the naughty twist of a twin-screw supercharger to all sorts of muscle cars. Ken happens to be the company's development engineer, and it was in that role that he went through unimaginable angst to develop a Corvette supercharger system worthy of Chevy's benchmark sports car.
The goal was an exponential increase in performance. (You'll recall the blazing orange KB-blown C5 featured in our Feb. '07 issue, an example of how pure passion can lead to dangerous obsession.) But at what cost? Do you mess with a car that rates an easy ten on anybody's scale just to sample that megalomaniacal pleasure?
Fortunately, Ken found the right balance of power and poise, and he and the C5 are still together. Only they know what lies under the subtle screamer's hood: 605 horses and the potential to blow the doors off just about anything on the road, a potential Ken taps into with some frequency.
But we digress. Anyone who's ever worked on a project car knows that the journey is what's important. (At least that's what we tell ourselves once the project's final detail is in place and we've finally hit the road.) With that in mind, let's rewind to the beginning.
Ken's long-term affair with all things Corvette started over 25 years ago with a fully restored '61 convertible that he and his wife, Pam, would take on star-lit drives in Arizona (fortunately, she's not the jealous type when it comes to automotive adoration). These weren't idyllic little stargazing cruises, however.
On an inviting stretch of asphalt near Pinnacle Peak, Ken cranked his baby up to 130 mph. The blue-and-white rocket riveted the Christleys into their seats and flung tears of pure delight past their ears. They realized then that Vettes were addictive.
The '61 begat a Buckskin '76 L82 coupe, which in turn begat a red-over-black '79. The Christleys then set their sights on the C4, but waited to find the perfect used one-a metallic blue L98 car with less than 24,000 miles. Then life interfered. "The passion never left, only the scratch to afford one did," says Ken.
Fortunately, along came Jim Bell of Kenne Bell. He hired Ken in 1990 to oversee R&D on supercharger kits and engine-computer systems. At the time, Ken had his own consulting business developing systems for the large-scale irrigation and pumping operations required by golf courses. He'd co-developed a way to access information via cell phone. He'd known Jim for years through his association with Rain Bird but never realized Jim and Kenne Bell were one and the same.
Jim invited Ken to stop by his shop and talk business. He needed to be able to monitor engine data on a Buick Gran Sport he was developing parts for. Ken knew his data-acquisition system could be adapted to engine parameters. The decision to give up sweating around Arizona golf courses in exchange for access to fast cars and Southern California wasn't a tough one.
The only problem was that Jim was concentrating on Fords at the time. Ken never gave up hope that one day a foxy, curvaceous Vette would roll into his service bay. A dozen years into the job, in early summer of 2002, one of Jim's buddies cruised into the shop with a brand-new, screaming-yellow C5 convertible. He wanted Jim to develop a supercharger kit for the machine and to have the job done in time for the year's SEMA show. Jim said he'd give it a go, so the guy tossed the keys to Ken and said, "Take good care of her." Ken thought he'd died and gone to heaven.
Developing a prototype supercharger kit for a new vehicle is no walk in the park. The real roadblock was fitting a supercharger under the stock hood. Installed on its custom manifold, the blower case was 2 to 3 inches taller than the stock intake. There was no way around it: You couldn't mash the hood down like an overstuffed suitcase, and you couldn't drive the thing with the hood up. This was a problem.
After months of R&D, Ken went to Jim. "I know these Corvette owners," he said, "They're a different breed, way too picky. We can't do a custom hood; they just won't replace their hoods even if it means another 150-plus rear-wheel horsepower." Jim didn't agree, but time had run out for Ken. The C5 owner retrieved his Vette and took it to a competitor who replaced the stock hood with a custom piece to accommodate the charger. Ken visited the Vette at the SEMA Show. It was like seeing an old and dear flame on someone else's arm. Then he had to stand back and watch the competition sell kit after kit after kit.
The silver lining behind this dismal cloud was that Ken would get a second chance, something nearly unheard of in real love stories. Kenne Bell put the word out for a near-stock donor car, with the possibility of getting a Kenne Bell supercharger at a ridiculously discounted price as the bait. The cards, letters, and snapshots poured in. Eventually, an '02 C5 with 6,000 miles was shipped west from North Carolina. The owner had installed a set of Z06 heads and an LPE camshaft but had retained the original parts. Ken would have to replace the aftermarket components with the stock ones for R&D purposes. He jumped into the project feet first. The conundrum of a custom hood returned. Ken battled his perfectionist demons, which were exacerbated by the fact that Kenne Bell would not have total control over the design and manufacture of the final product. He realized he needed to increase the hood height by 3 1/2 to 4 inches. It haunted him. "The thought of butchering the car and making it look like one of those old '70s Ford Torinos with the fake hood scoops turned my stomach. That image was etched into the inside of my skull."