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It's a little off topic but this story is funny as hell. A guy named AC posted this in rec.autos.makers.ford.mustang.

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 Volkswagen Van!
 
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Discussion Starter #3
That is the funniest thing I have ever read here. I swear my eyes are watering...
Thanks for a good laugh.
T

1966 C-Code Convertible, 59 Edsel Villager
Charlotte, NC
New Cars Have No Soul.
 
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Discussion Starter #4
LOL that was great.

~Chris
San Antonio, Tx
66 coupe 289
70 fastback done by may/graduation...hopefully
 

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I thought you wrote it.*G* If it had been a KIA we would know for sure!

1966 Red Conv (200)
1966 White Pony Int.(289)A Code
1966 Coupe (289) C Code
MCA 36048
 

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"....cast a dirty look in our boy-racer direction..."
hehehe HAHAHA..... That's funny!

Hal
Love hard, drive fast, wear your seat belt.

PS, thats's my 'bird...... My Mustang is too ugly to take pictures of yet........*G*.

http://www.teleport.com/~cosa/bird2.jpg
 

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Hey whisperer, thats a sweet T-Bird. My dad had one, one of a suppossed 200 Canadian anniversary Birds. Wish I had bought it instead of my '91 coupe!

Someone please buy my Ski Doo!
68 fastback, 390 4V premium fuel
80 5.0 hatch, just finished
91 5.0 coupe, daily driver
84 RamCharger 4x4 extreme mudsliger and winter junker
 
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