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9/22/2017 12:11:25 AM
Posted: 3/17/2006 2:56:53 PM EDT
I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of raw power, 3 cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror on thirteen-inch rims. It's stock, alright, nothing done to it, but it pushes the barely 2000 pounds of metro around with AUTHORITY. I'm always catching mopeds and 18-wheelers by surprise...

I was headed back from Baskin Robbins with my manly triple-latte cappuccino blast ("No Cinnamon, ma'am, I take it BLACK"), when I stopped at a streetlight. As the Metro throbbed its throaty idle around me, I sipped my bold beverage and wiped the white froth my stiff upper lip. I was minding my own business, but then I heard a rev from the next lane. I turned, made eye contact, then let my eyes trace over the competition.

Ford Festiva - a late model, could be trouble. Low profile tires, curb feelers, and schoolbus-yellow paint. Yep, a hot rod, for sure.

The howl of his motor snapped my reverie, and I looked back into the driver's eyes, nodded, then blipped my own throttle. As I tugged on my driving gloves and slipped on my sunglasses (gotta look cool to be fast, and I am cool, hence...), the night was split with the sound of seven screaming cylinders...

Then the light turned... I almost had him out of the hole, my three pounding cylinders thrusting me at least a millimeter back into my seat, as smoke pouring from my front right tire... my unlimited slip differential was letting me down! I saw in the corner of my eyes, a yellow snout gaining, and I heard the roar of his four cylinders. He slung by me, right front wheel juddering against the pavement, and he flashed me a smile as his .7 extra liters of motor stretched its legs. I kept my foot gamely in it, though, waiting for the CHECK ENGINE light to blink on in the one-gauge (no tachometer here!) instrument panel. I saw a glimpse of chrome under his bumper, and knew the ugly truth... He was running a custom exhaust-probably a 2-into-1 dual exhaust...maybe event cutouts!

The old lady passing us on the crosswalk cast a dirty look in our boy-racer direction... Yet still I persisted, with my three pumping pistons singing a heady high-pitched song, wound fully out. Though only a few handfuls of seconds had passed, we were nearing the crosswalk at the other side of the intersection, and I heard the note of his engine change as he made his shift to second, and I saw his grin in his rearview mirror fade as he missed the shift! I rocketed by, shifting, and nursed the clutch gently in to keep from bogging, keeping my motor spinning hot and pulling me ahead, now trailing a cloud of stinking clutch smoke. Not ready to give up so easily, he left his foot in it, revving, and I heard one wheel *almost* chirp as he finally found second and dropped the clutch. We careened over the crosswalk, now going at least 15 miles per hour. A bicyclist passed us, but intent on the race as we were, neither of us batted an eye. He pulled slowly abreast of me, and neck and neck, we made the shift to third, the scream of motors deafening all pedestrians within a five foot circle. He nosed ahead as we passed 30 miles an hour, then eased in front of me, taunting, as we shifted into fourth. I was staring up the dual chrome tips of his exhaust, snarling, my cappuccino forgotten, as he lifted a little to take the next corner.

I saw my opportunity, and counting on the innate agility of my trusty steed, I pulled wide into the number two lane and kept my foot buried in carpet. Slowly, I inched around him, feeling my Metro roll slowly to the left as I came abreast in the midst of this gradual sweeping turn. I felt the Geo ease onto its suspension stops, and felt the right rear wheel slowly leave the ground - no matter, though, because my drive wheels, up front, were pulling me through the corner, and around the Festiva ...

The Ford driver beat his wheel in rage as my wife's car eased past him on the outside, my P165/55R13's screaming in protest, as we raced to the next light. We coasted down, neck-and neck, to the red light. I tightened my driving gloves, ready for another round, when this WIMP in the next car meekly flipped his turn signal and made a right.

Chevy superiority reigns!!!

I drove off sipping my masculine drink, awash in my sheer virility, looking for other unwitting targets.... Perhaps a Yugo, or maybe even a Volkswagon Van!

Link Posted: 3/17/2006 2:58:11 PM EDT
Waht else can I say but.......
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:05:27 PM EDT
My dad's 1978 Chevette ruled all.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:07:42 PM EDT
nice kill
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:08:41 PM EDT
Best. Heads Up. Story. Ever!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:09:32 PM EDT
Well done!

Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:10:16 PM EDT
You've have the gift! Had a shit day and needed a laugh.THANKS! Dave
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:11:02 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 3/17/2006 3:12:06 PM EDT by deej86]
My dad had a Festiva. It was white. Nice work though.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:11:03 PM EDT
i had a '93 metro while in high school, sounds about right
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:11:13 PM EDT
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:13:50 PM EDT
Well done
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:23:42 PM EDT


outstanding!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:25:44 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DigDug:
My dad's 1978 Chevette ruled all.



HA ! We had one of them too ! We even put a sunroof in it

Ohh, the memories..

Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:28:11 PM EDT
wow! next he will tell about winning a baja race in a Tracker!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:33:07 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 3/17/2006 3:35:13 PM EDT by TheStig]
smoke pouring from my front right tire... my unlimited slip differential was letting me down!


HAHAH priceless!! 1 Tire fire!! Reminds me of all those guys trying to show off at the track doing burnouts on their open diff'd cars with friggen street radials. Hahah. Thanks for that, I think I'll be saving this one.

The only thing ya forgot is EVERYTIME you win, you HAVE to put on your hazards dude! Followed by the obligatory thumbs down.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:36:00 PM EDT



Man I'm missing my subaru justy right now.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:53:10 PM EDT


bump for an exceptional victory and write up
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 3:59:18 PM EDT
Now THAT was some fine-crafted literature!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:02:15 PM EDT
I once borrowed my Dad's M3, got into a race, and the water pump impeller disintegrated. That was awesome.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:03:21 PM EDT
Thats been seen before. Still funny though.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:05:16 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 3/17/2006 4:07:24 PM EDT by chrome1]
It was even funnier when it was originally written
back in 1996 by a member of another forum I belong to


Subject: Speed Demons
Date: 12-16-96 07:38:18 PST (Pacific)
From: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of raw
power, 3 cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror on
thirteen-inch rims. It's stock, alright, nothing done to
it, but it pushes the barely 2000 pounds of Metro around
with AUTHORITY. I'm always catching mopeds and 18-wheelers
by surprise...

I was headed back from Baskin Robbins with my manly
triple-latte cappuccino blast ("No Cinnamon, ma'am, I take
it BLACK"), when I stopped at a streetlight. As the Metro
throbbed its throaty idle around me, I sipped my bold
beverage and wiped the white froth my stiff upper lip. I
was minding my own business, but then I heard a rev from
the next lane.

I turned, made eye contact, then let my eyes trace over the
competition. Ford Festiva -- a late model, could be
trouble. Low profile tires, curb feelers, and
schoolbus-yellow paint. Yep, a hot rod, for sure. The howl
of his motor snapped my reverie, and I looked back into the
driver's eyes, nodded, then blipped my own throttle. As I
tugged on my driving gloves and slipped on my sunglasses
(gotta look cool to be fast, and I am *damn* cool,
hence...), the night was split with the sound of seven
screaming cylinders...

Then the light turned... I almost had him out of the hole,
my three pounding cylinders thrusting me at least a
millimeter back into my seat, as smoke pouring from my
front right tire... my unlimited slip differential was
letting me down! I saw in the corner of my eyes, a yellow
snout gaining, and I heard the roar of his four cylinders.
He slung by me, right front wheel juddering against the
pavement, and he flashed me a smile as his .7 extra liters
of motor stretched its legs. I kept my foot gamely in it,
though, waiting for the CHECK ENGINE light to blink on in
the one-gauge (no tachometer here!) instrument panel. I saw
a glimpse of chrome under his bumper, and knew the ugly
truth... He was running a custom exhaust -- probably a
2-into-1 dual exhaust... maybe even cutouts! Damn his
hot-rod soul! The old lady passing us on the crosswalk cast
a dirty look in our boy-racer direction... Yet still I
persisted, with my three pumping pistons singing a heady
high-pitched song, wound fully out. Though only a few
handfuls of seconds had passed, we were nearing the
crosswalk at the other side of the intersection, and I
heard the note of his engine change as he made his shift to
second, and I saw his grin in his rearview mirror fade as
he missed the shift! I rocketed by, shifting, and nursed
the clutch gently in to keep from bogging, keeping my motor
spinning hot and pulling me ahead, now trailing a cloud of
stinking clutch smoke. Not ready to give up so easily, he
left his foot in it, revving, and I heard one wheel
*almost* chirp as he finally found second and dropped the
clutch. We careened over the crosswalk, now going at least
15 miles per hour. A bicyclist passed us, but intent on the
race as we were, neither of us batted an eye.

He pulled slowly abreast of me, and neck and neck, we made
the shift to third, the scream of motors deafening all
pedestrians within a five foot circle. He nosed ahead as we
passed 30 miles an hour, then eased in front of me,
taunting, as we shifted into fourth. I was staring up the
dual 6" chrome tips of his exhaust, snarling, my cappuccino
forgotten, as he lifted a little to take the next corner.

I saw my opportunity, and counting on the innate agility of
my trusty steed, I pulled wide into the number two lane and
kept my foot buried in carpet. Slowly, I inched around him,
feeling my Metro roll slowly to the left as I came abreast
in the midst of this gradual sweeping turn. I felt the Geo
ease onto its suspension stops, and felt the right rear
wheel slowly leave the ground - no matter, though, because
my drive wheels, up front, were pulling me through the
corner, and around the Festiva ...

The Ford driver beat his wheel in rage as my wife's car
eased past him on the outside, my P165/54R13's screaming in
protest, as we raced to the next light. We coasted down,
neck-and neck, to the red light. I tightened my driving
gloves, ready for another round, when this WIMP in the next
car meekly flipped his turn signal and made a right. Chevy
(Suzuki) superiority reigns!!!

I drove off sipping my masculine drink, awash in my sheer
virility, looking for other unwitting targets.... Perhaps a
Yugo, or maybe even a Volkswagon Van!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:07:52 PM EDT
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:11:59 PM EDT
An oldie but goodie. Hah. My ex in high school had a Suzuki Swift 1.3L. It was hilarious to drive.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:13:45 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 3/17/2006 4:15:50 PM EDT by jixxerbeast]

Originally Posted By chrome1:
It was even funnier when it was originally written
back in 1996 by a member of another forum I belong to



B U S T E D!!!!!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:16:04 PM EDT
you guys make me laugh.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:23:08 PM EDT
Had me at the edge of my seat. Your plageristicdupe fu is strong!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 4:24:17 PM EDT
I laughed so hard that my wife got out of bed and read your post. Great writing!
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 5:06:04 PM EDT
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 5:09:53 PM EDT
Carpet? Your wife's Geo has carpet?

Rip that stuff out. It's good for an extra tenth.

Especially if it covers a hole in the floor you can "Fred Flintstone" through.
Link Posted: 3/17/2006 5:11:08 PM EDT
Sweet race


Max
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