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Geo Metro Race Story. (Funny Junk)


Joined: Jul 23 2004
Posts: 1230
Location: California, Maryland

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 11:02 am

Im sure some of you have read this before but i think that it is funny


I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of raw power, Three cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror on thirteen-inch wheels. 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 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, 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 P165/55R13`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 superiority reigns!!! I drove off sipping my masculine drink, awash in my sheer virility, looking for other unwitting targets...

Last edited by Floyd on Tue Jun 07, 2005 11:10 am, edited 1 time in total

Joined: Jun 05 2004
Posts: 4517
Location: Texas!

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 11:08 am

hmm thats like the 3rd time ive seen this posted lol
Losing quickly

Joined: Apr 26 2005
Posts: 5706
Location: SC

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 11:47 am

Yep...seen that, good story though

Joined: Oct 07 2003
Posts: 4140
Location: Niagara Falls, Canada

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 12:48 pm

ya its soooooooo damn good. Its good to have a classic repost from time to time.

Joined: Sep 15 2004
Posts: 3170
Location: Columbus, OH

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 12:59 pm

hahahaha that is funny

Joined: Mar 04 2004
Posts: 5959
Location: Central CT

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 9:52 pm

old but still a classic! great icon_cool.gif

Joined: Feb 12 2004
Posts: 5815
Location: Lake Charles, LA -- USA

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 10:19 pm

stasis- wrote:
hmm thats like the 3rd time ive seen this posted lol


Joined: Apr 21 2005
Posts: 3527
Location: dayton

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Post Tue Jun 07, 2005 10:30 pm

god forbid if it were an aspire.

Joined: Dec 05 2003
Posts: 676
Location: Marlton,NJ

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Post Wed Jun 08, 2005 1:39 pm

Better one from TheDodgeGarage.com

The Caravan rental...

This is an absolutely 100% true unmodified racing story that really honestly truly happened to me. Really. Honest.

It's Wednesday morning and I'm driving my 5 Korean visitors from Grand Rapids to Flint in my rented Dodge Caravan.

We're on a lonely stretch of I-96 near Ionia. I had just pushed in the cigarette lighter when I spot two cars growing quickly in the rear-view mirror. I'm already doing 70 so I know they're really moving. One of the cars is blue with a pair of white stripes running across it lengthwise, the other is a sleek yellow design. They grow closer and I realize I've got a Viper GTS-R (the bigger brake calipers gave that away) and a Callaway Corvette (recognized Bob Callaway driving it) speeding up towards me. As they approach I see Bob Lutz in the Viper wearing a mischievous grin slightly ahead of Callaway (with a trickle of sweat on his brow). The Callaway drops behind the Viper to pass me on the left.

Against my better judgement, I decide to join in. My hands start trembling and my heart starts pounding in my ears. I push the Caravan's accelerator about 3/4 to the floor. The engine roars to life and the Caravan lurches forward, spinning the front tires and fighting for traction. I nimbly control the surge of torque steer as the Caravan passes the 100mph mark. I look over towards Callaway who appears to be releasing a string of obscenities, but I can't hear him over the roar of my engine. The Corvette and I are neck-and-neck. I mash the accelerator the rest of the way to the floor. Slowly the Caravan pulls away from the Corvette. I glance at the speedometer. 150... 160... Still, I'm not gaining on Lutz.

By now the Koreans have woken up. I give them the 'Terminator' look and utter "GET OUT". They quickly pop open the two sliding doors and throw themselves from the van. With the reduced weight I quickly draw away from the 'Vette. Now I've got Mr. Lutz in my sights. The tires, only speed rated to 110, shred into oblivion. Chunks of ceramic are puked out of the exhaust as the cat disintegrates. The wipers let loose and fly out of sight. I estimate my speed at 180 mph. The bolts on the roof rack let go and it flies off, smashing into the Corvette behind me, improving my chances of beating it. Finally the cigarette lighter pops free. Steering the car with my knee, I pull out a Marlboro and light it. In my momentary lapse of concentration I sideswipe a Lincoln Towncar, which disintegrates.

The minivan clicks past 190 mph, and I'm on Bob's tail like white on rice. The Caravan's hood ornament tears loose and embeds itself in the windshield. I decide enough is enough. Fumbling for a radio station that isn't playing Alanis Morisette, I downshift the automatic into second. Engine RPM jumps to 16,000 (est.). The minivan creeps alongside the Viper. I look over at Bob, who is talking to someone on his car phone. He looks over and gives me a wink. With a flick of the wrist he hits his nitrous switch. The Viper lurches forward, the rear tires spinning. I curse to myself as the Viper begins to pull away. Then it hits me: The rear window vents on the Minivan are still open! I quickly hit the switches to close them. As the drag coefficient of the Caravan improves, the Dodge family truckster pulls back up towards the Viper. I know I've got him. It's only a matter of time.

It is at this point that my aluminum wheels begin to wear into nothingness. With victory in my grasp, the minivan begins losing speed. I give Bob a final salute as he pulls away in triumph.

I dropped the minivan off at Avis this morning:
"Any problems with the vehicle, Mr. Ramcke?"
"No, none."
"Did you purchase fuel?"
"Sure did!"
"Thank you! Come again!"

So, in conclusion, racing a Callaway and a GTS-R in a rented minivan is alot like working in a fish market, except you don't have to clean and gut fish all day.

Carsten Ramcke
Ann Arbor, MI
1985 GLH Turbo (Rust Never Sleeps)

Joined: May 30 2004
Posts: 2766
Location: Roseville, MI

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Post Wed Jun 08, 2005 2:51 pm

stasis- wrote:
hmm thats like the 3rd time ive seen this posted lol

makes me so happy i was the first to post icon_biggrin.gif

Joined: Feb 12 2004
Posts: 5815
Location: Lake Charles, LA -- USA

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Post Wed Jun 08, 2005 10:53 pm

what about the shift with no clutch one?!?!
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