I'll call this one my buicks first kill but I wish it was worth bragging about. For reference my ride is a 2dr HT 71' Lesabre, auto, 350 and 2bbl. Stock and slow! This afternoon I was on my way back from the local NAPA after grabbing a new set of front pads. I pulled up to the final intersection before I hit 3 of the straightest/flatest/never travelled klicks of road that I conviently live on. Well while waiting for the light an '86 Corba creaps up beside me. We quickly agreed to race to a pile of tires on the side of the road about 3/4 a kilometer down the road. I should now take the time to explain the competitions ride, '86 5.8L Cobra with stock AOD, a few cheap performance parts and a "newly installed" 125 shot of nitrous (installed just that day as a matter of fact). Well the light turned red, I didn't bother revving it up in neutral and putting it into drive (God I hate automatics!), I just stepped on the pedal and with a quick chirp I was off. The mustang had about 200ft on me before I finally caught up, the 'Stang driver looked over at me and smiled. About 5 seconds later I heard a chirp and the mustang surges forward, now I assume I'm pretty much finished.... of course I was from the word go anyway. However the Buick Gods were shinning down on me, and the mustang owner suddenly stood on the brake pedal, and I zoomed by and took the win. As I continued down the road I caught a glimpse of the Stang owner in the mirror standing over a smoking engine compartment. By my good nature (and the need to laugh at others expense ) I turned around. When I finally pulled up in front of the smoking engine compartment, I stepped out and asked the rather shaken owner if he was alright. He didn't say anything, just stood there with a pale blank look on his face and a bleeding right leg. After giving him a smoke and a light, some of the color returned and he looked at me and ever so quietly whispered "Sh!@" . I helped him limp over to my buicks trunk, and got him to sit down in the trunk with his leg resting up on top of the rear 1/4 panel. The bleeding was slowing down considerably at this point and "Jamie" was starting to enjoy eyeballing my sound system, so I headed back to his car. A quick inspection revealed the cause, the torque converter (in my opnion anyway) grenaded sending shrapnel everywhere and left a fist size hole in the transmission tunnel. Only a few inches from were "jamie" would've had his foot resting on the gas pedal. After towing the wreck on to the shoulder of the road (with my buick no less). I gave the poor bastard a ride to the local medical center, 3 stiches later, Jamie and I parted. For those parties concerned "Jamie" was nice enough to drop me a line earlier this evening, he couldn't talk long, but he's fine and was currently "Pullin the trans and ordering a bulletproof bellhousing... comin' in next week"! Looks like there'll be a rematch! Well if you'll excuse me, I have about a quart of dried blood to scrub out of/off my car. Cheers.
I absolutely love it when any fool on the street thinks he will be king 'cause he put a 150 shot on mom's civic ( I always try to get em to open it up a few times "to get the kinks out") and doesn't understand thrown rods and sheared cranks. ou: But watch out now the Buick's got the taste for blood!!!!!!!! :Brow:
Sheared rods and smashed cranks are nice, but I believe the sweetest site I've seen was a bone stock 89 Camaro with a 250 shot at an intersection. The idiot throws the switch as soon the light changed and he sent 4 spark plugs straight through the hood. :grin: he was later quoted saying "well 1 out of 2 banks isn't bad right?!" :grin: :grin: :grin:
