Accord Man
08-01-2003, 02:46 PM
Long but well worth it.
http://www.honda-tech.com/zerothread?id=574706
Happened last week. So the conversation probably isn't exact, but I'm sure you'll get the idea. I know the driver of the Cobra is a member of some web board, that I can't remember the name, so I'm hoping this gets around to him. Nice race!
The Intro is long, but my car's not running, so I need something to do.
"God damn I want a slurpee." Yeah, I think I said that well over 100 times that day at work. I even remember saying it to a customer, I don't think he really cared. But come on, 90 degree afternoon, what can be better than an ice-cold coke/cherry slurpee. And who doesn't love going to 7-11?
They have Indian music playing in the background, while you fill up the cup. Then you walk around the store flipping through the classifieds, hoping to find that $500 crx, while consuming about half of the slurpee, just so you can refill it before you leave. And of course the entire time, you're being eyeballed like a hawk. Because in your town, the biggest threat to 7-11 at 11pm is a 20 year old white kid wearing a tie.
Oh yeah, the story.
Right, so I closed down the theater at about 10:05. As I'm walking out to my car, I realize I left the cheater slicks on. "Damn, what a waste." I usually remember to swap back on the kumho 711's during the week. Because, really... who needs drag radials to drive to work?
But, finally, after 8 long hours of dreaming. That slurpee would finally be mine. I pop in the new Radiohead CD, and I'm off.
I hate driving on cheater's. Every single rock and speck of dirt you run over, gets thrown around under your car. And every puddle leaves you gripping the steering wheel tight and holding your breath.
So I approach the driveway of the 7-11. And what do I see, parked, a black SVT. Now at this point, I had no clue it was an 03. But it looked sparkly new. Interesting. It's rear tires, were definitely not stock. And who would of thought a stupid little badge, could be intimidating?
For some reason, every car you see. You feel obligated to size it up.
If it's fast. You need to beat it. It's existence is a threat to yours.
Kids sure do think stupidly.
But logic aside
the adrenaline started spreading. Slowly, but ****, was it there.
Back to the Cobra.
As I pull into the spot next to it, 2 kids walk out of the store. Early 20's I'm guessing.
"Haha, listen to that thing shake."
Ok, so my car does vibrate a bit, the polyurethane mounts don't exactly make for a comfortable ride. And the jimfab traction bars certainly don't help. I wasn't offended, because it's not like they were lying.
But I stay in the car, only to hear one of them mumble something about his little sister "having one of those cars." The they both hop in their car, and shut the door. For the record, I don't think she really does. It turned out he didn't even have a sister
I shut the car off because I wanted to hear something. And I wait.
He turns his key. And holy crap. Yeah. I think people in Mexico heard that.
This thing was blown.
"03..." I thought to myself.
Yup. Ok, not many cars sound better than that. And stock. ****. These machines are a fine piece of work.
The whine of his car was almost deafening. No way that thing is stock I thought.
A quick throw into reverse and a chirp, reminded me that no matter how nice the car was, there was still a mustang driver behind the wheel. (I kid, I kid) And he sped off.
So I sat in the car at 7-11. And thought.
Slurpee...
Cobra...
Slurpee...
Cobra...
Slur...
I start the car.
Guess it's obvious which one I would choose. I drive a honda. A respectably fast honda. I guess I just feel the need to let a few domestic owners out there know, that not every car with an H emblem and exhaust, is a riced out piece of shit.
So I pull out, and set chase.
Damn, they were going fast. I could see them maybe about half mile ahead. And I wasn't about to go ridiculous speeds only to catch up to them.
All I could do was wish for them to get a red light.
And just as my luck would have it, they hit a red light.
It's a long red. I usually hate it. But tonight, obviously, it was on my side.
The best part was, knowing that there wasn't another stoplight for a good 3 miles.
Heh. The look they gave me as I pulled up next to them was priceless. To them it was like the class Nerd, approaching the Head Cheerleader, and asking her to Prom.
I don't blame them. I don't even blame them for rolling down their windows to ask...
"Are you joking?"
I don't blame them one bit.
I wasn't offended either. In fact, I was a bit flattered.
These guys were the reason my car looks stock.
These guys were the reason I sprayed my intercooler black, chopped the tip off my Thermal 3" exhaust, and left the Civic Cx sticker on my hatch.
Holy shakey. I realized the car wasn't the only thing shaking like a mexican space shuttle. But the adrenaline completely took over. I was actually getting nervous.
The Cobra pilot obviously wasn't. He was too busy giggling like a school girl. But why would he be nervous. In his eyes, he was about to demolish a 70 hp civic.
But me, I knew what I was up against. I knew that this race would be close. And I knew that this car, was the fastest production Mustang, ever.
We both had our eyes on the other traffic light. Waiting for that yellow.
I held it at 3000.
He was holding it low, but he was holding it.
Green...... and...
The adjacent light turned yellow. I started to let the clutch slip, and brings it up to almost 3500. I wasn't about to lose this race to a heavy foot.
And the light turned green.
Hoyl shit his car sounded pissed.
We both launched ****ing hard. Thank god for the cheaters.
We both practicly slid across the intersection. But to my surprise, he out launched me.
Those were no street tires.
At the top of first, he had me by a bumper.
I throw it into second, and hit the Greddy Profec B switch, for High Boost. Psshh. And chirp.
And I start to inch forward.
By the top of 2nd, he no longer had the lead. We were neck and neck, but I seemed to be pulling. No, pulling wasn't the right word. I was "inching."
I neglected to pay attention to RPMs and I hit the rev limitter. 8300.
One bounce, was all. But it was all the Mustang needed to even it out.
I throw it in third, barely lifting for the shift. Cshhh, no chirp.
Maybe it was the third gear vTeK y0!, or maybe it was the fact that I had complete traction and the boost was creeping. But I was able to pull away from the SVT. Inch by inch.
And by the top of third, the corner of my eye told me, his nose was at my door.
4th gear. Cszhh.
The race is over. I'm slowly pulling, and he's gaining nothing.
His nose was at my rear panel when he finally decided to give up & let off.
I look at my speed. Umm... yeah, I should slow down.
You know that post-sex feeling?
That feeling of total relaxation.
That's what I was going through.
What a huge ****ing smile I had on my face.
I stick my arm out the window and give a huge .
They pull up next to me and match my speed, he rolls down the window, shakes his head, and smiles. He slows down, and then makes a right at the first stoplight.
Heh.
Yeah. So now about that slurpee...
I make my way back to 7-11.
And man. I've never deserved a slurpee more in my life.
I'm standing oustide 7-11 at about 10:30, enjoying the best slurpee of my life.
Just staring at my car. I ****ing love that thing.
Five minutes go by and I hear that familiar sound.
The kids pull up, and again park right next to me.
"You mother****er." He said sarcasticaly. "That little car is sick."
"Thanks, your car's no joke either." I replied.
"Ok what the hell. I'm just sitting minding my own business, and this white honda pulls up. The only thing I can think... is that this kid just had his nitrous installed and thinks he can go out beating mustangs now."
I laugh.
"No seriously. I'm seriously disturbed right now. I thought my car was a sleeper. You're not running an intercooler?"
"I am, I just painted it black."
"Smart. So explain to me what exactly is going on under your hood. You on the bottle too?"
"No nitrous here. Pretty built GSR motor. Stock head, stock Intake manifold, still running a Cat. Moderate boost levels. Nothing too crazy. Just good suspension set up."
"Yeah no shit. I was like what the **** is this wrong wheel drive doing next to me. I'm on drag radials."
"That's why you got me off the line. That thing launched ****ing hard"
"He was like (pointing to his friend) stop sucking. He's beating you."
"Hey, it happens."
"Well, I know I'll be seeing you again."
"Wait, so what's done to the Cobra? It's a 2003 right?"
"Yep. Just little things, and the drag radials. I've got a bunch of parts laying around, just need to go out and get it installed."
"Ah, I see. So I take it you'll probably want to race again in the near future."
"**** yeah. But damn man, that thing is badass. I had yet to lose to anything on the street, who woulda thunk a civic. Hah, no offense man."
"None taken. Nice mustang. That thing sounded mean as hell. If I had the money I'd definitely sport one of those."
"Yeah, thanks dude. We'll leave you to your slurpee. Peace."
What a good ****ing night.
http://www.honda-tech.com/zerothread?id=574706
Happened last week. So the conversation probably isn't exact, but I'm sure you'll get the idea. I know the driver of the Cobra is a member of some web board, that I can't remember the name, so I'm hoping this gets around to him. Nice race!
The Intro is long, but my car's not running, so I need something to do.
"God damn I want a slurpee." Yeah, I think I said that well over 100 times that day at work. I even remember saying it to a customer, I don't think he really cared. But come on, 90 degree afternoon, what can be better than an ice-cold coke/cherry slurpee. And who doesn't love going to 7-11?
They have Indian music playing in the background, while you fill up the cup. Then you walk around the store flipping through the classifieds, hoping to find that $500 crx, while consuming about half of the slurpee, just so you can refill it before you leave. And of course the entire time, you're being eyeballed like a hawk. Because in your town, the biggest threat to 7-11 at 11pm is a 20 year old white kid wearing a tie.
Oh yeah, the story.
Right, so I closed down the theater at about 10:05. As I'm walking out to my car, I realize I left the cheater slicks on. "Damn, what a waste." I usually remember to swap back on the kumho 711's during the week. Because, really... who needs drag radials to drive to work?
But, finally, after 8 long hours of dreaming. That slurpee would finally be mine. I pop in the new Radiohead CD, and I'm off.
I hate driving on cheater's. Every single rock and speck of dirt you run over, gets thrown around under your car. And every puddle leaves you gripping the steering wheel tight and holding your breath.
So I approach the driveway of the 7-11. And what do I see, parked, a black SVT. Now at this point, I had no clue it was an 03. But it looked sparkly new. Interesting. It's rear tires, were definitely not stock. And who would of thought a stupid little badge, could be intimidating?
For some reason, every car you see. You feel obligated to size it up.
If it's fast. You need to beat it. It's existence is a threat to yours.
Kids sure do think stupidly.
But logic aside
the adrenaline started spreading. Slowly, but ****, was it there.
Back to the Cobra.
As I pull into the spot next to it, 2 kids walk out of the store. Early 20's I'm guessing.
"Haha, listen to that thing shake."
Ok, so my car does vibrate a bit, the polyurethane mounts don't exactly make for a comfortable ride. And the jimfab traction bars certainly don't help. I wasn't offended, because it's not like they were lying.
But I stay in the car, only to hear one of them mumble something about his little sister "having one of those cars." The they both hop in their car, and shut the door. For the record, I don't think she really does. It turned out he didn't even have a sister
I shut the car off because I wanted to hear something. And I wait.
He turns his key. And holy crap. Yeah. I think people in Mexico heard that.
This thing was blown.
"03..." I thought to myself.
Yup. Ok, not many cars sound better than that. And stock. ****. These machines are a fine piece of work.
The whine of his car was almost deafening. No way that thing is stock I thought.
A quick throw into reverse and a chirp, reminded me that no matter how nice the car was, there was still a mustang driver behind the wheel. (I kid, I kid) And he sped off.
So I sat in the car at 7-11. And thought.
Slurpee...
Cobra...
Slurpee...
Cobra...
Slur...
I start the car.
Guess it's obvious which one I would choose. I drive a honda. A respectably fast honda. I guess I just feel the need to let a few domestic owners out there know, that not every car with an H emblem and exhaust, is a riced out piece of shit.
So I pull out, and set chase.
Damn, they were going fast. I could see them maybe about half mile ahead. And I wasn't about to go ridiculous speeds only to catch up to them.
All I could do was wish for them to get a red light.
And just as my luck would have it, they hit a red light.
It's a long red. I usually hate it. But tonight, obviously, it was on my side.
The best part was, knowing that there wasn't another stoplight for a good 3 miles.
Heh. The look they gave me as I pulled up next to them was priceless. To them it was like the class Nerd, approaching the Head Cheerleader, and asking her to Prom.
I don't blame them. I don't even blame them for rolling down their windows to ask...
"Are you joking?"
I don't blame them one bit.
I wasn't offended either. In fact, I was a bit flattered.
These guys were the reason my car looks stock.
These guys were the reason I sprayed my intercooler black, chopped the tip off my Thermal 3" exhaust, and left the Civic Cx sticker on my hatch.
Holy shakey. I realized the car wasn't the only thing shaking like a mexican space shuttle. But the adrenaline completely took over. I was actually getting nervous.
The Cobra pilot obviously wasn't. He was too busy giggling like a school girl. But why would he be nervous. In his eyes, he was about to demolish a 70 hp civic.
But me, I knew what I was up against. I knew that this race would be close. And I knew that this car, was the fastest production Mustang, ever.
We both had our eyes on the other traffic light. Waiting for that yellow.
I held it at 3000.
He was holding it low, but he was holding it.
Green...... and...
The adjacent light turned yellow. I started to let the clutch slip, and brings it up to almost 3500. I wasn't about to lose this race to a heavy foot.
And the light turned green.
Hoyl shit his car sounded pissed.
We both launched ****ing hard. Thank god for the cheaters.
We both practicly slid across the intersection. But to my surprise, he out launched me.
Those were no street tires.
At the top of first, he had me by a bumper.
I throw it into second, and hit the Greddy Profec B switch, for High Boost. Psshh. And chirp.
And I start to inch forward.
By the top of 2nd, he no longer had the lead. We were neck and neck, but I seemed to be pulling. No, pulling wasn't the right word. I was "inching."
I neglected to pay attention to RPMs and I hit the rev limitter. 8300.
One bounce, was all. But it was all the Mustang needed to even it out.
I throw it in third, barely lifting for the shift. Cshhh, no chirp.
Maybe it was the third gear vTeK y0!, or maybe it was the fact that I had complete traction and the boost was creeping. But I was able to pull away from the SVT. Inch by inch.
And by the top of third, the corner of my eye told me, his nose was at my door.
4th gear. Cszhh.
The race is over. I'm slowly pulling, and he's gaining nothing.
His nose was at my rear panel when he finally decided to give up & let off.
I look at my speed. Umm... yeah, I should slow down.
You know that post-sex feeling?
That feeling of total relaxation.
That's what I was going through.
What a huge ****ing smile I had on my face.
I stick my arm out the window and give a huge .
They pull up next to me and match my speed, he rolls down the window, shakes his head, and smiles. He slows down, and then makes a right at the first stoplight.
Heh.
Yeah. So now about that slurpee...
I make my way back to 7-11.
And man. I've never deserved a slurpee more in my life.
I'm standing oustide 7-11 at about 10:30, enjoying the best slurpee of my life.
Just staring at my car. I ****ing love that thing.
Five minutes go by and I hear that familiar sound.
The kids pull up, and again park right next to me.
"You mother****er." He said sarcasticaly. "That little car is sick."
"Thanks, your car's no joke either." I replied.
"Ok what the hell. I'm just sitting minding my own business, and this white honda pulls up. The only thing I can think... is that this kid just had his nitrous installed and thinks he can go out beating mustangs now."
I laugh.
"No seriously. I'm seriously disturbed right now. I thought my car was a sleeper. You're not running an intercooler?"
"I am, I just painted it black."
"Smart. So explain to me what exactly is going on under your hood. You on the bottle too?"
"No nitrous here. Pretty built GSR motor. Stock head, stock Intake manifold, still running a Cat. Moderate boost levels. Nothing too crazy. Just good suspension set up."
"Yeah no shit. I was like what the **** is this wrong wheel drive doing next to me. I'm on drag radials."
"That's why you got me off the line. That thing launched ****ing hard"
"He was like (pointing to his friend) stop sucking. He's beating you."
"Hey, it happens."
"Well, I know I'll be seeing you again."
"Wait, so what's done to the Cobra? It's a 2003 right?"
"Yep. Just little things, and the drag radials. I've got a bunch of parts laying around, just need to go out and get it installed."
"Ah, I see. So I take it you'll probably want to race again in the near future."
"**** yeah. But damn man, that thing is badass. I had yet to lose to anything on the street, who woulda thunk a civic. Hah, no offense man."
"None taken. Nice mustang. That thing sounded mean as hell. If I had the money I'd definitely sport one of those."
"Yeah, thanks dude. We'll leave you to your slurpee. Peace."
What a good ****ing night.