You people are a bad influence on me.
First, I spend five hours detailing the car. You name it, it was cleaned. Washed and waxed (two coats) detailed, every bit of bug grime scraped off…I have no fingernails left. The inside of the car was also squeaky clean, and it was basically back to show-room condition.
So we took some pictures (to be posted later) and headed back home. But it was a slow night, and the car was all nice and clean and it was going to rain all day tomorrow…so we decided we go cruising. A very good night to do so, just enough traffic to keep it interesting and fun to drive in.
So…eventually we pull up to a stoplight at the end of one of the larger strips in town. To my right pulls up a young guy in a reddish Camaro, two more friends in the car. He looks over and I see him smile.
So I ask my wife, “Should I?” And because she’* her, she offers no help whatsoever. “Whatever you decide…”
Well, before I can take a good look around for cops, the light goes green, and he’* gone. I could see his taillights…but I was in no mood to suck exhaust, so I slammed the pedal to the floor (someday someone will have to tell me how to race…) and I hear the tires squeal (traction control be damned!) and we’re gone.
In a second or so I’ve pulled up even with him, and then I pull ahead. At that point I figure I’ve done my bit, and I slam on the brakes, and I watch him go whizzing by…And boy is he confused. I see him go by, and he had a giant “
?” look on his face. He even placed his blinker on, but never turned…through two intersections!
Well, there’* a post-script to this. I very clearly saw “IROC-Z” down the side…My wife felt sure it was a something else. So we end up driving around for another half hour or so looking for the car.
Lo and behold, we find it in the parking lot of a local store, parked next to another car (Sunfire, I believe). As soon as we went down the strip they started hopping up and down and waving, pointing, in giant “There’* the car!” type gestures. Well, I pulled into the lot and parked next to the Camaro, window to window.
Other than my problem of “What do you say to a guy you smoked?” It was pretty neat…it’* how I found out it was an 85 Camaro. There were about five of them, and I could tell they were trying desperately to figure out what kind of car it was…and trying to salvage some pride… “Yeah, I had to downshift there…”
At one point the driver is looking at the SSEi logo and says “I see you’re supercharged…” He sounded just like Dark Helmet from Space Balls…”I see your Schwartz is as big as mine…”
A good night…but now there are bug stains on the front…