Re: Geo Metro goes racing

["Dave Aukerman" <mhauk@ccsdana.net>]

Just had to send this to the list.  Still wiping the tears from my eyes as
I try to stop chuckling.  Reminds me of the posts about how kick-a our
Audis are from a stop light.

Dave


> >                Subject:        Geo Metro Humor
> >
> >
> >                I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of
> >raw power, 3 cylinders of asphalt-tearing terror on thirteen-inch
> >rims. 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 schoolbus-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 P165/54R13'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 (Suzuki) superiority reigns!!!
> >                I drove off sipping my masculine drink, awash in my
> >sheer virility, looking for other unwitting targets.... Perhaps a Yugo,
> >or maybe even a Volkswagon Van!
> >