Here is a Christmas poem I got from another site. just wanted to share..
'Twas the night before street legals, when all through the garage
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Mitsubishi Mirage
The tools were hung on the pegboard with care,
In hopes that Vin diesel would soon be there;
The pistons were nestled, all snug in their bores,
While sparks of nitrous oxide danced in their cores.
And mom in her leathers, and I in my cap,
A long night of cycle-racing, it was time for a nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the creeper to see what ‘s the matter.
Away to the window, it smoked up the tires
Tore open the shutters, and saw twin exhaust fires!
The gleam on the paint of the new modded beast,
Gave the lustre of mid-day for all there to feast;
When, what to my wondering ears should I hear
But a blow off valve, and a nice cam gear,
With a little young hottie, so sexy and blond,
I knew in a moment that of her I’d be fond..
More rapid than boost, his psi rose,
And he whistled, and shouted, and snorted from his nose;
"Now, Apexi! now, Borla! now, Blitz and Greddy!
On, Moroso! on Holley! on, Crane Cams and Mallory!
To the end of the street! to the full quarter mile!!
Ten seconds or less, gives me a huge smile;
As the redline approaches before the turbo lag wanes,
When they meet with an obstacle, it’s time to change lanes,
So up to the mountains like drifters they flew,
With a engine bay full of toys, and superchargers too.
And then, in a instant, I heard an E49 whine
The bigblock was chugging, it was showdown time.
As I pushed in the clutch, and bounced off the limiter,
I peered at the other car and saw St. Nick sitting there!
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
And his helmet was custom airbrushed with orange flames and soot;
A bottle of nitrous was attached by his feet
And he looked like a Hells Angel, in his aluminum racing seat!
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his faceplate was shiny!
His cheeks were redhot turbos, his charger was whiny!
His pudgy little mouth was drawn up in a frown,
And the beard of his chin was all tied down;
The hand was gripped on the shifter so tight,
And the fingers wrapped around it, were certaintly white;
He had a high stall converter and a big bright gauge cluster,
His chassis it shook, with so much power to muster
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly racer,
And I laughed when I saw him, at his power to weight ratio.
With a wink of his eye, and a drop of the clutch,
A cloud of white smoke, and the noise was too much.
He shot like a bullet, his charger went to work.
My car left the line; went into 2nd with a jerk,
By fifth gear it was over, he beat me by a car
He flashed me his hazards and pointed to the Northstar;
He put pedal to metal, and drove away like a missle
His red car flying away, charger screaming like a whistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he chirped out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all racers, and lets cut a good light!"