Levity time, WOB...

[Daniel David Ayd <Daniel.D.Ayd-1@xxxxxxxxxx>]

Actually, I didn't do this, someone sent it to me...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, then let my eyes trace over
the
competition.  Ford Festiva -- a late model, could be trouble.  Low
profile tires, curb feelers, and schoolbus-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, 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 even 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 Volkswagon Van!

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End of bmw-digest V9 #480
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