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Old 09-18-2007, 04:53 PM   #1
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The sound jolted me from my reverie at a stoplight in a small town just east of San Antonio. It sounded like a weed whacker farting. I heard it again. I looked to my left. In the lane next to my Z/28 sat a two-door Hyundai Accent with Beavis at the wheel and Butthead riding shotgun. It had the obligatory coffee can-sized muffler hanging below the rear valence. Bolted to the deck lid: an erector set-type spoiler that looked like it weighed more than the rest of the car. Beavis (or maybe it was Butthead) had plastered the fenders and doors with decals of kanji characters and there was a bright red VTEC sticker splayed across the top of the windshield. It looked as though they had just seen “The Fast and the Furious” and they were out to cop some street creds in their killer kimchee burner.

Beavis revved the engine a third time and they both looked at me in slack-jawed expectation. I raised one eyebrow, Spock-like, then rolled my eyes, shook my head slightly and went back to watching the red light. Undaunted, Beavis blipped the throttle yet again. This time the car lunged forward slightly. Obviously he was spoiling for a fight. After all, what did he have to fear from the middle-aged guy in the rear wheel drive midlife crisis car with an automatic transmission who was listening to the same music his grandparents liked? What was that group? Something called The Beach Boys? What could a fogey like that possibly know about cool street machines? I decided to teach him that he should be careful what he wished for.

The light turned green. Beavis must have had the engine fully tached up because he actually managed to chirp the Hyundai’* front tires when he took off. He was winding the engine for all it was worth, blaaat-blaaaaat-ing through the gears. I sat there and watched the show as they headed toward the next stoplight about a mile up the road, at full throttle.

After waiting a three-count I took off. No drama, no smoke, no squealing tires. Just the transfer of copious amounts of all-American torque to the tarmac, accompanied by the mellifluous soundtrack of the LS1’* 310 horses. It’* the sweetest music this side of heaven, but a sound that’* totally foreign to a generation raised on four-cylinder front-drive econoboxes and SUV poseurmobiles. It’* a sound I don’t think B & B ever heard before, and probably one they didn’t soon forget.

As I closed in on them I could tell they were beginning to panic. I could see them both lurching back and forth in their seats as though they hoped their bodily inertia would improve their forward momentum. The frantic exhaust note told me the Accent was giving its all to the cause, but to no avail. B & B were about to experience first hand what happens when youthful ignorance and arrogance run head first into the cruel, unyielding roadblock of reality.

The end was mercifully quick. Before I got halfway to redline in second gear, I passed them and gave them a slight wave. (Yes, I used my entire hand.) Their expressions were priceless, like they’d just learned the truth about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy all at once, in a single blinding flash. I actually felt sorry for them– for a moment.

Then my pity gave way to laughter as I considered the utter ridiculousness of the situation. I felt a little like Evelyn Couch (Kathy Bates) in the parking lot scene from “Fried Green Tomatoes” – minus the willful destruction of personal property, of course – scoring a small victory for old farts everywhere. As you get older, such victories are fewer and further between. You take ‘em when and where you can get ‘em, and you revel in ‘em as long as you can.

I drove that same route every day for about a year. I never saw Beavis, Butthead or that Hyundai again. I’d like to think they pushed it off in the nearest arroyo and invested their money in a real car and some driving lessons. And hopefully by now they’ve learned kanji isn’t Korean and that VTEC has no relevance to a Hyundai. Probably not, though. They probably just added more decals, ground effects and badges to that poor Hyundai and kept on getting humiliated. Either that or they’ve moved on the latest fad and donked their whip with 26-inch spinners, candy paint and Lambo doors.

And me? I still enjoy the Beach Boys. I now drive a six-speed Corvette instead of the Z/28. I still enjoy an occasional stoplight challenge, too. Anyone with a Sonata want to run for pinks?
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Old 09-18-2007, 05:58 PM   #2
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IT GET'* BETTER!!!!!



pulled this from Craigslist a while back. I saved it because I thought it was hilarious.



This is a true story. I swear I'm not making any of this up. ....and you may very well see the car and laugh your *** off as well.

So I'm a car enthusiast, and part time auto mechanic who helps the neighbors out with their cars. Hey, I've got a little knowledge, been doing this for a few years, and Ive got a great set of tools. I have a rather fast and rare early 70s hobby car that i take out on weekends, an Oldsmobile 442.

So anyway. My neighbors kid turns 17, and the mother gives him her Honda civic.
Say it out loud now with me. Honda civic.

Plastic and aluminum, 75 horsepower, basic commuter car, Honda civic.

"perfect for a new driver, economical, easy to maintain and dependable a good basic car for junior," i thought to myself.

The first week was fine, he bought spinning hubcaps and a set of dragon seat covers for it. That should have been it. He should have left it alone.

The week after that, I walk out to my mailbox, and I almost called the cops. I thought I had just seen a UFO. as it slowly approached.....i could see it was a HONDA CIVIC.....with four different blinking colors of neon underneath it. Holy dung. I almost had a f**king seizure looking at this thing. Even the shifter **** was blinking.

.....Then about 48 hours later, Im laying in bed, about ready to **** my girlfriend when I hear BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-owwww. BZZZZ-owww. over and over in the neighbors garage.
"Well this is an odd time of night for Mr. Richardson to be f**king around with his chainsaw." I thought out loud. After forty five minutes of this irritating buzzing, I thought Id go over and ask the neighbor to play with his chainsaw in the morning.
Here is the junior Richardson boy, proudly revving his engine up and down. 4 more wannabe fake gangsta kids were standing around "tuning" his new exhaust.....which consisted of a rather small header and 4 coffee cans spray painted silver and the words "TYPE-R" stenciled on it.

Holy dung. I told him to please quit f**king with the car so I could sleep.

Wait, that is BY FAR not all.

The following week, he ask me if he can borrow a screwdriver and a hammer. He is installing his new "type r" rear spoiler. He was rather proud of it. He paid almost 600 dollars for it. I asked him where he was going to put it, since a Honda civic does not have a trunk. "The roof, dawg" is what he told me.
This spoiler looks like an aluminum picnic table that you would see in a public park, except for lots of rivets in it and the words "Type R" all over it.
I almost stopped him, but I wanted to see how retarded it would look.
I gleefully helped him install it. Yup, totally retarded. Classic.
He went on to explain to me that he needed it for all of the downforce he needed to maintain traction at supersonic speeds.
4 cylinders.
75 horsepower.
Downforce. Oh my god, what a retard.

It gets better.

2 weeks later, he is asking to borrow my cordless drill.
He just bought a body kit, yo, and needs to be down fo' shizzle wit da tool dawg to istall it, no wut hes sane, dawg?
Body kit. Pay attention. It gets good here.
So he drills all of the holes, double sided tape and screws this motherf**k to his car, and it REALLY is beginning to look like a space ship. or a an alien life form. Or a circus car. Well, circus, not yet. Thats coming.
heres the problem. The body kit is white. The car is dark green. It looks like a burrito vomit.....and the car is a full 4 inches wider, and 2 inches lower than it was before.
He cant get the doors to open or close properly, because the "body kit, yo" is catching the door jamb. So, always the helpful one, I give him my grinder. That was the coolest, watching this 'tard grind on his new 1200 dollar yo yo word up body kit. word. It was the flyest, dawg.

Circus act part 1.

Now, he decides he wants to "Lower the ride, dog."
I wouldn't let him use my tools, as I was afraid this dumb **** would blow himself up with what he wanted to do next.
He would cut the coils. dangerous. Unsafe. Stupid.

He succeeded in cutting the coils, but now his new body kit dawg was dragging on the ground. and, to top it all off, the car was bouncing up and down like a carnival ride, effectively ending his neon lighted glory. His type r exhaust was dragging on the ground as well.

You should see how retarded this intercourseer looks. A huge picnic table on the roof, 2 tone body kit, special kid tail lights. blinking, broken neon, stickers all over it, buzzing like a chainsaw on crack, bouncing up and down like a clown car.

Wait, thats not all. now hondtard wants a "syssem, yo." Oh yeah. He pieced together 6 different trashed car stereos, one home stereo, and a kragen auto parts special bass speaker, and somehow wired the neon lights (whats left of them) to blink with the beat of the music.
....Except you cant hear the music. You can only hear the bass. ...And it rattles his rooftop spoiler and license plate frame.

Now its REALLY looking AND SOUNDING like a clown car.

Okay. Now for hondtards carbon fiber paint job. He puts a hood scoop from an early 60s mustang on it, and its ENORMOUS. It kind of balanced out the retardedness of the rear spoiler/picnic table.
Then out comes the spray cans. All 18 of them. First, he pulled off his spinning hubcaps, and painted the wheels BLACK. Flat black.
Then he painted the body kit dawg bright, neon yellow.
The rest of the car was painted bright red, with a purple fist turning into a dragon or some dung airbrushed on the doors.

Clown car complete? Not yet.

As I stated previously, I have experience with fast cars. He knows that I can make a car go fast. He comes over with a copy of "Honda tuner guy" magazine, filled with equally retarded looking cars.
He asks me: "Yo dawg, i wanna make dis here b18 goes fast and dung. I was thinkin' of an Acura V-tec swap or some NOSS"
So i asked him, what exactly do you intend to do with this car? Will you be entering it in the most retarded car contest, or what?
He says: "Naaw, cracka. That dung is be is funny and dung, but I is for reals, for reals. I need to be running in the 12s and making 350 horsepower"
So I asked him: Why don't you save your money and buy a car that already makes 350 horsepower, like a Camaro or a GTO or something, instead of trying to make a car with 75 horsepower, that was never intended to go that fast any faster?

"Don't be a foo, yo. Everybody knows dat ode skoo dung can't hang" he tells me.
Now I'm pissed. Insulted. I said: Lookit here, junior, I'll pull my Olds Cutlass out of the garage and make your dung look like it was going backwards. No noss, no turbo, no stickers and no body kit is gonna help you beat the "ODE SKOO" cars, DAWG. And the same goes for any of your other retard car driving friends.
I'll have you and your homies wetting your pants with fear before we ever hit second gear. You have 6 grand worth of dung bolted onto a 1000 dollar car that was perfectly good when you got it, and now it looks, sounds and drives like ***. Get the **** out of my garage.

He looked like he was gonna cry.
He left with a solid "**** you dawg, I'll beat your old man car with a 150 shot" and he left, trying to pull up his drawers and give me the finger at the same time.

Showdown.

Now I am a responsible adult, and I do not condone street racing. However, when faced with a direct insult, challenge, and **** you, any man tends to be defensive enough to take a few risks.

Beautiful sunny day. First day Ive had my car out of the garage all winter. I check the fluids. I start the engine. I anticipate a crisp, lively jaunt at mind-bending speeds up the interstate.
I rev my engine, i sip my coffee.

Hondtard heard me revving my engine, and him and 2 of his friends do the same in the driveway. One is a New Acura in the pre-clown car stages of molestation, and the other one is junior'* moms civic. It sounds like a lawn mower race at the Richardson'* house. I crank my engine up to 3000 RPM and drown them out.

I climb in my car, check the gauges, and idle out into the road.

I look in my rearview, and I'm being followed by two bouncing, brightly colored bumping clown cars with backward hat retards pointing in my direction.

I ignore them. Not worth my trouble. Im an adult.

Acuretard and hondtard pass me when I hit the 680 on the left and the right.
Bzzzzzzzz.
Gone. Good. I am halfway to Livermore when they blast out of the on ramp and attempt to box me in. acuratard is revving his engine and pointing forward , hondtard is slowing me down in front of me.

**** it. Ive had enough.

I stuffed it down into third gear, opened all 455 cubic inches wide open, almost rear-ended hondtard and swerved directly at acuratard.
I broke the rear tires loose at 70 miles an hour, and acuratard was busy downshifting trying to get enough speed up to catch me.

I dusted these little *********** so bad they simply disappeared. I got off on the Livermore exit and waited for them on the on ramp. Some of their own game. Right back atcha homie.

I let them see me. Then I smoked the tires brutally and violently out of the ramp so that they would know I was pissed and coming for them.

I knew the honda was slow, so i ignored him and brought it down right on the acuras bumper. I got within an inch of this terrified teenagers *** and popped on the high beams and gunned the motor. I mashed the gas i n third and was threatening to bump him. 90, 100, 110....
he couldn't get away from me. he waved for me to pass. hondtard was WAAAAY in the back.
The acura *** was scared, and beaten and he knew it. I pulled alongside.

I motioned for him to roll down his window. I screamed and pointed. He backed way off.

I stuck my finger in the air and screamed **** you at acura tard, and dumped it, quickly accelerating to 130 MPH until they couldn't see my tail lights any more.

Later that evening, as I told my fiance this story ("your a juvenile *******, you could have killed those kids and you are going to **** off the neighbors")

I heard two chainsaws idle up very slowly to my house. Holy dung. Its a drive by. These intercourseers want to kill me.
A knock on the door.
I answer it, ready to beat some fake gangsta *** if I have to.

They want to see my car now. "Do you have noss?, is it a hemi?"

****. get lost.

Clown car is still on the road, but now homie g wants to learn all about the "ode skoo"

If you see this car, put a sticker on it. He seems to like them, and thinks they make the car cooler. Then dust his *** once for good measure.

You simply have to see this kids car to believe it. If your car looks retarded and its fast, cool. Then you can look a little f**king special and get away with it. But this thing looks like it was dropped off at the special education shop class and built by retards, and it * not even quick.

In honor of dale "pimpdaddyhustla" Richardson, class of 2006 and his clown car, I dedicate this to you. Let me take you for a ride once you feel you are man enough. I see you stepped up to the plate and lost big time. I'm willing to help you install the noss and the v-tecs and let you try again.
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Old 09-18-2007, 06:06 PM   #3
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cliff notes anyone?
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Old 09-18-2007, 06:08 PM   #4
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Old 09-18-2007, 06:13 PM   #5
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LOL. I laughed SO hard at that second one.
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Old 09-18-2007, 06:14 PM   #6
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Post One Z28 1 Hyaundi 0

post 2 evolution of a ricer then gets owne by muscle car


I have seen these somewhere else still pretty funny
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Old 09-18-2007, 07:37 PM   #7
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That was most excellent
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Old 09-18-2007, 07:54 PM   #8
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That was one of the best things I have read in a a long time.
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Old 09-18-2007, 09:33 PM   #9
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That is what I thought when I read them too
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Old 09-20-2007, 07:39 AM   #10
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