Before I start, I want to say I rarely race on the streets anymore and when I do it's only when there's no traffic and I will only break the speed limit by about 10 mph. I figure I've either won or lost at that point, no need to go any faster. That being said:
Near my house is an apartment with three "stealth" rice mobiles. A Civic, a Neon and a Tiburon, all fart canned and painted primer black. The Civic is the loudest of the three, he's always on the throttle and I've been itching to catch him on the street with my cb7. Last night I'm driving the wife's 97 Civic LX auto, taking my 15 year old son to his grandparents and up ahead I hear and see rice boy pulling out onto the street going my way. Since I'm not in my car, and the only mods on the wife's are an open airbox and some tree frog seatcovers, it's a "Awww damn" moment. My son says "Hey Dad, isn't that the guy you want to race?" "Yes, Cameron, but not in your step-mother's car." I slide up next to him as he gets it up to speed (limit is 50 on this road) and he's blatting it through second gear and looking over at us like he's cool. The next light turns yellow, there's no traffic around us and my mind says "Hey! Something could happen right here right now!" I pull to a stop at the light, he pulls in next to me, revving it up and down a little, maybe up to 3 grand and back down a couple times, not bouncing it off the limiter or anything crazy, but I'm thinking, "I might get shut down here, he could be hiding something under there." I'm still not sure if he's going to run, because he revs it everywhere, but I figure if he launches, I'll launch.
The light goes green and I hear his tires spinning on the wet pavement, so I tromp it, break loose, feather it back until they grab and then I'm pulling ahead of him. I hear him shift into second as I wind out first, then the auto swaps into second and I'm pulling away harder. By the time I break 60, I'm at least two cars ahead of him and still pulling, so I back down, set the cruise at 53 and wait for the ricer flyby to happen. About a half mile up the road traffic is stopped at the light so I slow down and he shoots past me, cuts off someone three or four cars ahead and jumps on the freeway. Since I had to take the freeway anyway, I decide to see how long it takes me to catch him. The cars between us don't get on the freeway, so I'm full throttle down the ramp. At the end of the ramp, I'm on the left turn signal, looking over my shoulder, changing lanes twice (once into the right lane from the ramp, once into the middle lane) setting the cruise control at 70 and waving as we pass him. (The best part is my 15 year old son is laughing maniacally on an adrenaline rush and staring at the guy like some kind of demented, psychopathic, skinny freak who's deliriously happy to have escaped from the mental hospital) He finally blatted past me again about five miles up the road. I wouldn't have known it was him except for the loud fartcan belch as he downshifted to blast me.
I don't know if I'd call this a good kill, but I had fun with it, barely broke the speed limit, and got to shut down some poser with my wife's stocker!
I'm assuming his motor's just been worn out and doesn't have any balls left. I think it was much better to do it with the wife's car. The cb7 would have been overkill.
Near my house is an apartment with three "stealth" rice mobiles. A Civic, a Neon and a Tiburon, all fart canned and painted primer black. The Civic is the loudest of the three, he's always on the throttle and I've been itching to catch him on the street with my cb7. Last night I'm driving the wife's 97 Civic LX auto, taking my 15 year old son to his grandparents and up ahead I hear and see rice boy pulling out onto the street going my way. Since I'm not in my car, and the only mods on the wife's are an open airbox and some tree frog seatcovers, it's a "Awww damn" moment. My son says "Hey Dad, isn't that the guy you want to race?" "Yes, Cameron, but not in your step-mother's car." I slide up next to him as he gets it up to speed (limit is 50 on this road) and he's blatting it through second gear and looking over at us like he's cool. The next light turns yellow, there's no traffic around us and my mind says "Hey! Something could happen right here right now!" I pull to a stop at the light, he pulls in next to me, revving it up and down a little, maybe up to 3 grand and back down a couple times, not bouncing it off the limiter or anything crazy, but I'm thinking, "I might get shut down here, he could be hiding something under there." I'm still not sure if he's going to run, because he revs it everywhere, but I figure if he launches, I'll launch.
The light goes green and I hear his tires spinning on the wet pavement, so I tromp it, break loose, feather it back until they grab and then I'm pulling ahead of him. I hear him shift into second as I wind out first, then the auto swaps into second and I'm pulling away harder. By the time I break 60, I'm at least two cars ahead of him and still pulling, so I back down, set the cruise at 53 and wait for the ricer flyby to happen. About a half mile up the road traffic is stopped at the light so I slow down and he shoots past me, cuts off someone three or four cars ahead and jumps on the freeway. Since I had to take the freeway anyway, I decide to see how long it takes me to catch him. The cars between us don't get on the freeway, so I'm full throttle down the ramp. At the end of the ramp, I'm on the left turn signal, looking over my shoulder, changing lanes twice (once into the right lane from the ramp, once into the middle lane) setting the cruise control at 70 and waving as we pass him. (The best part is my 15 year old son is laughing maniacally on an adrenaline rush and staring at the guy like some kind of demented, psychopathic, skinny freak who's deliriously happy to have escaped from the mental hospital) He finally blatted past me again about five miles up the road. I wouldn't have known it was him except for the loud fartcan belch as he downshifted to blast me.
I don't know if I'd call this a good kill, but I had fun with it, barely broke the speed limit, and got to shut down some poser with my wife's stocker!
I'm assuming his motor's just been worn out and doesn't have any balls left. I think it was much better to do it with the wife's car. The cb7 would have been overkill.
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