Not Ranked
I didn't race him, but once on a socal freeway, a bright yellow, blue painted rollcage, Japanese decal laden, coffee-can exhaust tipped, Honda Integra pulled up next to me kept revving that sewing machine sounding 4-banger, so I gently mashed the gas on the 520 cid cobra. That lit up the rear tires like John Force before a dragrace, and I was in fourth gear. His eyes went as big as saucers and the whole ordeal lasted two seconds. That was the one and only time I felt the need to, it was innapropriate, I know.
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In a fit of 16 year old genius, I looked down through the carb while cranking it to see if fuel was flowing, and it was. Flowing straight up in a vapor cloud, around my head, on fire.
Last edited by Mr.Fixit; 06-12-2003 at 02:36 PM..
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