OVA1
04-22-2013, 09:45 PM
Headin' out to the shop to tweak this and that, I turn onto the four lane, 5 miles of straight line marked for 45, heavily patrolled and not the best place for much of anything… but I always like to take the first 1/4 mile in a hurry as it's about the only place that you can see sufficiently to have a reasonable expectation of not being ambushed.
I thunder by a short line of cars and get out for my coast back down to the neutral zone and see that the little Honda I passed has zipped out and is coming on up for a better look.
It's a nice little rig, for a ricer… thoroughly de-badged and clean paint.
He hangs back about 10 cars, and I lean her on down to the limit and sure enough, the little dude begins to execute the traditional fly-by.
Well, as much of a pain in the butt as they can be, the value of 5.13 gears really shines through when one is sitting there watching a nasty little small-bore, under-cylindered turbo come charging up on ya.
Ya just sorta smile and wait some more till the little fella gets close enough to really start to feel that he's gonna make it and once you can sense that they're just about to wet themselves with excitement, 'taking down that old pile of chipped paint… ya just throw the hammer and let the nature of American steel and fire go to work on the best origami has to offer.
I cut her lose when Dude was about 2-3 cars back and he managed to get the front bumper somewhere close to my back seat.
She shot us up to about 100 in a no time at all with the little Honda car hissing and popping well to our six, I expect back pretty close to where he started his run… and I pulled the heat off her and conceded the lane, allowing him to pass, which he did with, I am happy to report, with a new found respect for a dilapidated looking Z28… offering a little wave over what seemed like a major case of the ass.
But at least he manned up and offered the old girl a salute and I thought that was a bit of alright.
I thunder by a short line of cars and get out for my coast back down to the neutral zone and see that the little Honda I passed has zipped out and is coming on up for a better look.
It's a nice little rig, for a ricer… thoroughly de-badged and clean paint.
He hangs back about 10 cars, and I lean her on down to the limit and sure enough, the little dude begins to execute the traditional fly-by.
Well, as much of a pain in the butt as they can be, the value of 5.13 gears really shines through when one is sitting there watching a nasty little small-bore, under-cylindered turbo come charging up on ya.
Ya just sorta smile and wait some more till the little fella gets close enough to really start to feel that he's gonna make it and once you can sense that they're just about to wet themselves with excitement, 'taking down that old pile of chipped paint… ya just throw the hammer and let the nature of American steel and fire go to work on the best origami has to offer.
I cut her lose when Dude was about 2-3 cars back and he managed to get the front bumper somewhere close to my back seat.
She shot us up to about 100 in a no time at all with the little Honda car hissing and popping well to our six, I expect back pretty close to where he started his run… and I pulled the heat off her and conceded the lane, allowing him to pass, which he did with, I am happy to report, with a new found respect for a dilapidated looking Z28… offering a little wave over what seemed like a major case of the ass.
But at least he manned up and offered the old girl a salute and I thought that was a bit of alright.