Reading the kill stories makes me smile...here's mine. Summer of '92, on what was then HWY 44 westbound. It's a gorgeous summer afternoon, and I'm cruisin' along in my first car, a 69 Special 4D w/ a 350-2bbl. A bad, baaad vintage Firebird comes along, blasts past me, drifts back behind me, blasts pasts me again. Now, I don't know what he has, but I know that my little 'ol 350, chokin' on a 2bbl carb is no match! But what the hell, you're only young once, right? So as he drifts back, I time it, and nail it. Punching the accelerator, my Buick doesn't exactly leap forward, but...it accelerates. Moments later, I hear the full throttle wail of the Firebird, and soon after, his taillights are a speck. Sighing, I let up and was too soon cruising the speed limit again...I smell...something sweet...syrupy...maple syrup! I'm curious...and before long, I come across the Firebird, on the side of the road, hood up, and white smoke/steam coming up. Ah, the sweet smell of success. (Chuckling) I think 'twas better to be the tortoise than the hare, that day. Nathan Rivera '72 Riviera (project, vintage style, modern tech, all it takes is cubic dollars!)
That's pretty funny for you, but not for him. I always think it's funny when someone is screwing with and they miss a shift or torch their tranny/engine.
That's sweet. You could have stopped and asked if your little small block did all that. Car and driver both boiled over. Then asked if he needs a tow and something about how your car has never broke
Y'know, I was just a kid when that happened. Driving by was sweet enough. Frying the guy...well hell, I wasn't going to kick a guy while he was down, and at the time, it never even occurred to me to twist the knife, so to speak. Sadly, it didn't occur to help him, either. Older and wiser now. Gearheads of all types should hang together. It's truly a brother(and sister!)hood. Nathan
