And remembered that the Mopar Nationals are in town.
Cliff notes : Try to appreciate old school muscle, asshat in SRT-4 makes self look stupid, I shock asshat, brakes start grinding out of nowhere, perform fastest brake job ever, brakes perform better than they ever have.
(street names and landmarks for the locals in italics)
So my buddy and I give her a quick bath and take a trip over to the local area (Brice Rd.) that all the Mopar guys cruise and hang out at when they come to town, intending to park and maybe walk around to look at some old school muscle. While we're stuck in traffic, a spot opens up in the right lane and out of a parking lot (just south of Livingston) comes some asshat in his SRT-4 with NY tags, right next to me. He apparently views me as some kind of threat and starts revving at me. My buddy tells me to go ahead and run him, but there's cops everywhere and I know I'm not beating him (my IHE and p12 vs. his 2.4 turbo? I don't think so.) so forget it.
I stop at a light and we notice that there's a huge open space next to us, I look over and asshat is letting a gap open in traffic, and then he tries to smoke them at me, but doesn't get loose, so he just launches and almost rear ends the pristine GTX in front of him. We laugh at him, cruise another few blocks up the street (as he wraps out first gear rolling and then revs at me every time we stop) and come up to a spot where the people sitting along the street have been pouring water and bleach on the street so everyone can break them loose. I hang back a little from the guy in my lane, I'm creeping about 15 in second, so I clutch, slip down into first, let the pedal out, look over at SRT boy, look back to the front and as I roll into the puddle I just drop the hammer. The front end breaks loose, I run it up to about 6K and get off the throttle. I look back over to the right lane and he's not there. My buddy is cracking up and there's a little bit of smoke in the air. He said as soon as I opened it up, the guy's jaw dropped and he just sat there.
Now I know the guy's got way more power than me, but I'm still feeling good that he felt he had to rev at me and challenge me in front of all the real Mopars, plus I apparently gave him a little shock. We get a few more blocks up the road and he gives me a little ricer flyby, cuts in front of me and gets in the far left lane to turn (on Tussing). My buddy and I laugh a little about how salty the guy is probably feeling that he didn't get to make me look bad, and I look over, catch his eye, give him a friendly nod and asshat turns his head away from me. Ok, no problem, he's a complete dickhead, I get it.
He makes his turn, we go straight and I turn left into a parking lot at the next light to turn around and go back to look for a spot to park and watch. Except that I can't get out of the lot the way I want to, so I decide to slip around behind the stores and come out a different way. We roll down to the end of the lot, I cut right behind the buildings and, out of nowhere, my brakes start making that horrible metal on metal noise that means I'm dropping more money into the car this weekend.
We hit an Advance Auto Parts on the way back to my place drop $22, get home, and I shit you not, had the coupe up on stands, the brake pads replaced and had her back down and tightened up, center caps back on in less than fifteen minutes. I have never seen a faster brake job. Plus, since I've had the car, I've thought I had a little air in the lines, the pedal has always felt soft, the guy I got her from said they've always felt soft. I now have less than an inch of pedal travel (I used to have a good three, maybe four). It feels like I could stand her on her nose if I wanted.
That's it, just a good night with the coupe. I might take her back out tomorrow night and try to see some American muscle finally.
Cliff notes : Try to appreciate old school muscle, asshat in SRT-4 makes self look stupid, I shock asshat, brakes start grinding out of nowhere, perform fastest brake job ever, brakes perform better than they ever have.
(street names and landmarks for the locals in italics)
So my buddy and I give her a quick bath and take a trip over to the local area (Brice Rd.) that all the Mopar guys cruise and hang out at when they come to town, intending to park and maybe walk around to look at some old school muscle. While we're stuck in traffic, a spot opens up in the right lane and out of a parking lot (just south of Livingston) comes some asshat in his SRT-4 with NY tags, right next to me. He apparently views me as some kind of threat and starts revving at me. My buddy tells me to go ahead and run him, but there's cops everywhere and I know I'm not beating him (my IHE and p12 vs. his 2.4 turbo? I don't think so.) so forget it.
I stop at a light and we notice that there's a huge open space next to us, I look over and asshat is letting a gap open in traffic, and then he tries to smoke them at me, but doesn't get loose, so he just launches and almost rear ends the pristine GTX in front of him. We laugh at him, cruise another few blocks up the street (as he wraps out first gear rolling and then revs at me every time we stop) and come up to a spot where the people sitting along the street have been pouring water and bleach on the street so everyone can break them loose. I hang back a little from the guy in my lane, I'm creeping about 15 in second, so I clutch, slip down into first, let the pedal out, look over at SRT boy, look back to the front and as I roll into the puddle I just drop the hammer. The front end breaks loose, I run it up to about 6K and get off the throttle. I look back over to the right lane and he's not there. My buddy is cracking up and there's a little bit of smoke in the air. He said as soon as I opened it up, the guy's jaw dropped and he just sat there.
Now I know the guy's got way more power than me, but I'm still feeling good that he felt he had to rev at me and challenge me in front of all the real Mopars, plus I apparently gave him a little shock. We get a few more blocks up the road and he gives me a little ricer flyby, cuts in front of me and gets in the far left lane to turn (on Tussing). My buddy and I laugh a little about how salty the guy is probably feeling that he didn't get to make me look bad, and I look over, catch his eye, give him a friendly nod and asshat turns his head away from me. Ok, no problem, he's a complete dickhead, I get it.
He makes his turn, we go straight and I turn left into a parking lot at the next light to turn around and go back to look for a spot to park and watch. Except that I can't get out of the lot the way I want to, so I decide to slip around behind the stores and come out a different way. We roll down to the end of the lot, I cut right behind the buildings and, out of nowhere, my brakes start making that horrible metal on metal noise that means I'm dropping more money into the car this weekend.
We hit an Advance Auto Parts on the way back to my place drop $22, get home, and I shit you not, had the coupe up on stands, the brake pads replaced and had her back down and tightened up, center caps back on in less than fifteen minutes. I have never seen a faster brake job. Plus, since I've had the car, I've thought I had a little air in the lines, the pedal has always felt soft, the guy I got her from said they've always felt soft. I now have less than an inch of pedal travel (I used to have a good three, maybe four). It feels like I could stand her on her nose if I wanted.
That's it, just a good night with the coupe. I might take her back out tomorrow night and try to see some American muscle finally.
It amazed me how fast I got it done. the first time I did it, it took me 2 hours. Now, 15 minutes.
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