In Denver Colorado where I grew up, the altitude was the power robber. I had a 115k mile 65 GT that was just tired. It too wouldn't get out of it's own way. Even though the engine didn't smoke, compression was low, and it wouldn't get past 95 MPH top speed.
I was constantly ridiculed by the local MOPAR stroke who had a fairly nice 69 Barracuda with a 383/4 speed. We called him "Cuda man".
My best friend's father had a 69 SS 396 Chevelle. He'd routinely get to use the car to "cruise". (He was my pinch hitter)
We'd routinely show up at Cuda man's parents' house (especially after about a case of 3.2% beer) and he'd do a 5000 RPM neutral drop in front of their house. (I'd follow in my geriatric Mustang GT,) driving through the cloud of smoke that was pouring out of the rear quarters,..the tires of the Chevelle just boiling smoke over my car, all while laughing my ass off at the challenge,... Strangely enough,.. Cuda man never accepted the implied thrown gauntlet, even though it took a near grenading of the TH 400 to give the impression of power.
You gotta love a GM transmission....He'd rev the p iss outta that 396, and slam that console shifter into low gear and it was the same as side stepping the clutch. Couldn't do it in the C4 that was in my Mustang.