EZ-E Posted February 4, 2006 Share Posted February 4, 2006 I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of raw power, 3 cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror on thirteen-inch rims. It's stock alright, nothing done to it, but it pushes the barely 2000 pounds of Metro around with AUTHORITY. I'm always catching mopeds and 18-wheelers by surprise... I was headed back from Baskin Robbins with my manly triple-latte cappuccino blast ("No Cinnamon, ma'am, I take it BLACK"), when I stopped at a streetlight. As the Metro throbbed its throaty idle around me, I sipped my bold beverage and wiped the white froth my stiff upper lip. I was minding my own business, but then I heard a rev from the next lane. I turned, made eye contact, and then let my eyes trace over the competition. Ford Festiva -- a late model, could be trouble. Low profile tires, curb feelers, and school bus-yellow paint. Yep, a hot rod, for sure. The howl of his motor snapped my reverie, and I looked back into the driver's eyes, nodded, and then blipped my own throttle. As I tugged on my driving gloves and slipped on my sunglasses (gotta look cool to be fast, and I am *damn* cool, hence...), the night was split with the sound of seven screaming cylinders... Then the light turned... I almost had him out of the hole, my three pounding cylinders thrusting me at least a millimeter back into my seat, as smoke pouring from my front right tire... my unlimited slip differential was letting me down! I saw in the corner of my eyes, a yellow snout gaining, and I heard the roar of his four cylinders. He slung by me, right front wheel juddering against the pavement, and he flashed me a smile as his .7 extra liters of motor stretched its legs. I kept my foot gamely in it, though, waiting for the CHECK ENGINE light to blink on in the one-gauge (no tachometer here!) instrument panel. I saw a glimpse of chrome under his bumper, and knew the ugly truth... He was running a custom exhaust -- probably a 2-into-1 dual exhaust ... maybe event cutouts! Damn his hot-rod soul! The old lady passing us on the crosswalk cast a dirty look in our boy-racer direction... Yet still I persisted, with my three pumping pistons singing a heady high-pitched song, wound fully out. Though only a few handfuls of seconds had passed, we were nearing the crosswalk at the other side of the intersection, and I heard the note of his engine change as he made his shift to second, and I saw his grin in his rearview mirror fade as he missed the shift! I rocketed by, shifting, and nursed the clutch gently in to keep from bogging, keeping my motor spinning hot and pulling me ahead, now trailing a cloud of stinking clutch smoke. Not ready to give up so easily, he left his foot in it, revving, and I heard one wheel *almost* chirp as he finally found second and dropped the clutch. We careened over the crosswalk, now going at least 15 miles per hour. A bicyclist passed us, but intent on the race as we were, neither of us batted an eye. He pulled slowly abreast of me, and neck and neck, we made the shift to third, the scream of motors deafening all pedestrians within a five foot circle. He nosed ahead as we passed 30 miles an hour, then eased in front of me, taunting, as we shifted into fourth. I was staring up the dual 6" chrome tips of his exhaust, snarling, my cappuccino forgotten, as he lifted a little to take the next corner. I saw my opportunity, and counting on the innate agility of my trusty steed, I pulled wide into the number two lane and kept my foot buried in carpet. Slowly, I inched around him, feeling my Metro roll slowly to the left as I came abreast in the midst of this gradual sweeping turn. I felt the Geo ease onto its suspension stops, and felt the right rear wheel slowly leave the ground - no matter, though, because my drive wheels, up front, were pulling me through the corner, and around the Festiva ... The Ford driver beat his wheel in rage as my wife's car eased past him on the outside, my P165/54R13's screaming in protest, as we raced to the next light. We coasted down, neck-and neck, to the red light. I tightened my driving gloves, ready for another round, when this WIMP in the next car meekly flipped his turn signal and made a right. Chevy (Suzuki) superiority reigns!!! I drove off sipping my masculine drink, awash in my sheer virility, looking for other unwitting targets.... Perhaps a Yugo or maybe even a Volkswagen Van! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dj paul Posted February 4, 2006 Share Posted February 4, 2006 i enjoy that one, ive seen it before but i still read it again just cuz i like it. =) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SuperKid Posted February 4, 2006 Share Posted February 4, 2006 Great! It reminds me of when I raced my friend. 1990 Ford F150 5.0L EFI (me) vs. 1998 Dodge Dakota 2.2L (him)! Needless to say, we didn't even get to the speed limit before I had beaten him. lol. Slow races are the best! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Scottie-GNZ Posted February 4, 2006 Share Posted February 4, 2006 Bust a gut every time I read that one. Speaking of Geo, check out the Geo in the latest issues of Hot Rod and Car Craft. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tim240z Posted February 4, 2006 Share Posted February 4, 2006 Good story, however, there is one major, and glaring hole in the tale. A faux-par which single handedly removes all validity to the ordeal. An error, which to the untrained eye could go unnoticed, but to the concienscious observer cannot be ignored! .......("No Cinnamon, ma'am, I take it BLACK"), when I stopped at a streetlight. ......., I sipped my bold beverage and wiped the white froth my stiff upper lip. J/K.....great story telling prose!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
IncompetentOne Posted August 27, 2013 Share Posted August 27, 2013 possibly the funniest thing I have ever read inn my life Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Phantom Posted August 28, 2013 Share Posted August 28, 2013 (edited) My son was out one day in our high performance 1983 Sentra. Even though it's carburated 1500cc motor was only rated at 69 HP it was a 2-dr with a 5-spd so it was really quick(?). Anyway - he found himself next to a Lamborghini Diablo at a stop light. Wishing to flex the muscle of his performance machine my son revved up all 69 of the squirrels and stared into the eyes of the driver of the Italian Stallion. When the light changed he popped the clutch and rocketed across the street and almost went into shock as he realized he was clearly ahead of the Lambo who's driver had stalled it on the launch. Seconds later he did a slow 360 as the Lambo went by at just sub-light speed. Not surprisingly the Lambo driver had his sunglasses in place and would not look at my son when he caught him at the next light. Booya - it's not always the car - it's the driver! Edited August 28, 2013 by Phantom Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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