Montana Mullet-by
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1st Gear
Joined: May 2006
Posts: 88
From: NY
Montana Mullet-by
So I just got my car back from the shop after fixing a dirty MAF. The thing still won't runAPR's Stage 1 software without having a hissy fit, so I'm stuck with the stock 170hp plus whatever my exhaust adds to that. I'm thinking absolutely no more than 180hp.
I pulled up to the gas station to fill up and an old mustang pulled in next to me. I started filling up with premium fuel (cuz teh ownerz manwell tells me 2), when this hill billy comes up to me and says, "you gotta put premium in that piece of $hit?" I replied, "oh gosh, is that a tractor engine in that rusted pile of bolts?" Then the ***** (yes I know it's spelled differently, but i prefer to make it a visual analogue with "koosh") starts saying edelbrock this, borla that. etc. I ask him if he'd like to run. I told him I turned the boost down to stock settings to give him a chance. We pulled out of the gas station and drove about a mile away to a less-trafficked safer place. We had to wait for two sets of lights before we were both at the front of the grid.
I spooled the engine up to 3300 rpms and as soon as the light on the other side of the intersection went red (and a solid 3 seconds before our light went green), this mustang loser dumps the clutch and takes off in a cloud of black smoke (he should probably get that looked at). As soon as I realize what's happened, I dump the clutch on my car and take off. By 60 mph on my speedo, we're even, by 80 I'm a full car length ahead of him. At 100 I'm two car lengths ahead.
I brake because I'm not going to hit 135 on public roads (this may have happened once, er or twice before). He doesn't bother stop and just keeps roaring past flipping me off. Now I get to read the newspaper tomorrow and hear about how some jacka$$in a mustang plowed into a tree on the side of the highway.
Ah the trials and tribulations of life in Butte, Montana. I cannot wait to get back to civilization. I suppose this is the western equivalent of a rice-by.
I pulled up to the gas station to fill up and an old mustang pulled in next to me. I started filling up with premium fuel (cuz teh ownerz manwell tells me 2), when this hill billy comes up to me and says, "you gotta put premium in that piece of $hit?" I replied, "oh gosh, is that a tractor engine in that rusted pile of bolts?" Then the ***** (yes I know it's spelled differently, but i prefer to make it a visual analogue with "koosh") starts saying edelbrock this, borla that. etc. I ask him if he'd like to run. I told him I turned the boost down to stock settings to give him a chance. We pulled out of the gas station and drove about a mile away to a less-trafficked safer place. We had to wait for two sets of lights before we were both at the front of the grid.
I spooled the engine up to 3300 rpms and as soon as the light on the other side of the intersection went red (and a solid 3 seconds before our light went green), this mustang loser dumps the clutch and takes off in a cloud of black smoke (he should probably get that looked at). As soon as I realize what's happened, I dump the clutch on my car and take off. By 60 mph on my speedo, we're even, by 80 I'm a full car length ahead of him. At 100 I'm two car lengths ahead.
I brake because I'm not going to hit 135 on public roads (this may have happened once, er or twice before). He doesn't bother stop and just keeps roaring past flipping me off. Now I get to read the newspaper tomorrow and hear about how some jacka$$in a mustang plowed into a tree on the side of the highway.
Ah the trials and tribulations of life in Butte, Montana. I cannot wait to get back to civilization. I suppose this is the western equivalent of a rice-by.
2nd Gear
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 1,171
From: sd, cali
RE: Montana Mullet-by
ORIGINAL: vassar007
So I just got my car back from the shop after fixing a dirty MAF. The thing still won't runAPR's Stage 1 software without having a hissy fit, so I'm stuck with the stock 170hp plus whatever my exhaust adds to that. I'm thinking absolutely no more than 180hp.
I pulled up to the gas station to fill up and an old mustang pulled in next to me. I started filling up with premium fuel (cuz teh ownerz manwell tells me 2), when this hill billy comes up to me and says, "you gotta put premium in that piece of $hit?" I replied, "oh gosh, is that a tractor engine in that rusted pile of bolts?" Then the ***** (yes I know it's spelled differently, but i prefer to make it a visual analogue with "koosh") starts saying edelbrock this, borla that. etc. I ask him if he'd like to run. I told him I turned the boost down to stock settings to give him a chance. We pulled out of the gas station and drove about a mile away to a less-trafficked safer place. We had to wait for two sets of lights before we were both at the front of the grid.
I spooled the engine up to 3300 rpms and as soon as the light on the other side of the intersection went red (and a solid 3 seconds before our light went green), this mustang loser dumps the clutch and takes off in a cloud of black smoke (he should probably get that looked at). As soon as I realize what's happened, I dump the clutch on my car and take off. By 60 mph on my speedo, we're even, by 80 I'm a full car length ahead of him. At 100 I'm two car lengths ahead.
I brake because I'm not going to hit 135 on public roads (this may have happened once, er or twice before). He doesn't bother stop and just keeps roaring past flipping me off. Now I get to read the newspaper tomorrow and hear about how some jacka$$in a mustang plowed into a tree on the side of the highway.
Ah the trials and tribulations of life in Butte, Montana. I cannot wait to get back to civilization. I suppose this is the western equivalent of a rice-by.
So I just got my car back from the shop after fixing a dirty MAF. The thing still won't runAPR's Stage 1 software without having a hissy fit, so I'm stuck with the stock 170hp plus whatever my exhaust adds to that. I'm thinking absolutely no more than 180hp.
I pulled up to the gas station to fill up and an old mustang pulled in next to me. I started filling up with premium fuel (cuz teh ownerz manwell tells me 2), when this hill billy comes up to me and says, "you gotta put premium in that piece of $hit?" I replied, "oh gosh, is that a tractor engine in that rusted pile of bolts?" Then the ***** (yes I know it's spelled differently, but i prefer to make it a visual analogue with "koosh") starts saying edelbrock this, borla that. etc. I ask him if he'd like to run. I told him I turned the boost down to stock settings to give him a chance. We pulled out of the gas station and drove about a mile away to a less-trafficked safer place. We had to wait for two sets of lights before we were both at the front of the grid.
I spooled the engine up to 3300 rpms and as soon as the light on the other side of the intersection went red (and a solid 3 seconds before our light went green), this mustang loser dumps the clutch and takes off in a cloud of black smoke (he should probably get that looked at). As soon as I realize what's happened, I dump the clutch on my car and take off. By 60 mph on my speedo, we're even, by 80 I'm a full car length ahead of him. At 100 I'm two car lengths ahead.
I brake because I'm not going to hit 135 on public roads (this may have happened once, er or twice before). He doesn't bother stop and just keeps roaring past flipping me off. Now I get to read the newspaper tomorrow and hear about how some jacka$$in a mustang plowed into a tree on the side of the highway.
Ah the trials and tribulations of life in Butte, Montana. I cannot wait to get back to civilization. I suppose this is the western equivalent of a rice-by.
