Riced S-10 = Owned
CamaroSSBoy346
05-07-2004, 11:56 PM
Some idiot in a riced out S-10 tried to do a peel out-instead making alot of wheel hop, and making his fart cannon fall off...
The two hundred and forty horsepower, three point eight liter fuel injected V6 roared under the hood, planting me back in the driver’s seat with just a hint of blower whine. The front Goodyear radial tires spun in place, overcome by the two hundred and eighty pounds / foot of torque being produced, and thick tire smoke poured out from under the tire wells as they sought to gain traction. The LOW TRAC light kept blinking on the dash and I smiled. The smell of burnt rubber invaded the interior of the car as the blower fan drew in the smoke and it entered through the open sun roof and the powered down driver’s side door window. It was a smell that I was more than familiar with, and one I never grew tired of enjoying. I watched as the speedometer reading in the HUD began to climb, even though I wasn't really moving.
5mph.
10mph.
15mph.
Torque steer started to become apparent, felt through my gloved hand on the wheel as the boost indicator pegged out at its maximum rating and the engine continued to howl. The Grand Prix started to accelerate, slowly, through the intersection amid the front tires screaming. The smell of burnt rubber and thick tire smoke wafted around the front of the car as I fought the vibrating wheel in my gloved hand, aiming the nose straight. The S-10 owner just stood there dumbfounded in the front lawn of someone’s house and he stared open mouthed as this four door black sedan’s entire front end was engulfed in tire smoke. It must have looked pretty awesome when the nose slowly started emerging from the cloud of destroyed tire vapor and the Grand Prix seemingly leapt screaming out of its own smoke cloud.
I adjusted my angle of approach slightly and was doing almost thirty-five miles an hour, according to the HUD readout, when I felt a very satisfying crunch-thump under the car, another crunch-thump quickly followed from the rear underbody and I kept the hammer nailed as I blew past the slack jawed whigger. I threw him the thumbs up sign out the driver's side window but never made eye contact. I watched in the rear view mirror as he turned to watch me blow past and made some futile hand gestures or gang signs, but his attention was drawn back to the middle of the intersection and the piece of crumpled up exhaust tip that the Grand Prix had done a pretty good job of panzering flat. I let off the boost once the Grand Prix shifted from second to third gear, my right hand clicked off the performance shift option on the gear shifter.
http://www.goingfaster.com/spo/myturn.htm
The two hundred and forty horsepower, three point eight liter fuel injected V6 roared under the hood, planting me back in the driver’s seat with just a hint of blower whine. The front Goodyear radial tires spun in place, overcome by the two hundred and eighty pounds / foot of torque being produced, and thick tire smoke poured out from under the tire wells as they sought to gain traction. The LOW TRAC light kept blinking on the dash and I smiled. The smell of burnt rubber invaded the interior of the car as the blower fan drew in the smoke and it entered through the open sun roof and the powered down driver’s side door window. It was a smell that I was more than familiar with, and one I never grew tired of enjoying. I watched as the speedometer reading in the HUD began to climb, even though I wasn't really moving.
5mph.
10mph.
15mph.
Torque steer started to become apparent, felt through my gloved hand on the wheel as the boost indicator pegged out at its maximum rating and the engine continued to howl. The Grand Prix started to accelerate, slowly, through the intersection amid the front tires screaming. The smell of burnt rubber and thick tire smoke wafted around the front of the car as I fought the vibrating wheel in my gloved hand, aiming the nose straight. The S-10 owner just stood there dumbfounded in the front lawn of someone’s house and he stared open mouthed as this four door black sedan’s entire front end was engulfed in tire smoke. It must have looked pretty awesome when the nose slowly started emerging from the cloud of destroyed tire vapor and the Grand Prix seemingly leapt screaming out of its own smoke cloud.
I adjusted my angle of approach slightly and was doing almost thirty-five miles an hour, according to the HUD readout, when I felt a very satisfying crunch-thump under the car, another crunch-thump quickly followed from the rear underbody and I kept the hammer nailed as I blew past the slack jawed whigger. I threw him the thumbs up sign out the driver's side window but never made eye contact. I watched in the rear view mirror as he turned to watch me blow past and made some futile hand gestures or gang signs, but his attention was drawn back to the middle of the intersection and the piece of crumpled up exhaust tip that the Grand Prix had done a pretty good job of panzering flat. I let off the boost once the Grand Prix shifted from second to third gear, my right hand clicked off the performance shift option on the gear shifter.
http://www.goingfaster.com/spo/myturn.htm
FireBball972
05-08-2004, 09:57 PM
lol, thats hilarious :rofl:
Ace$nyper
05-08-2004, 10:42 PM
HAHA funny stuff man!
Cl0ak
05-09-2004, 11:58 AM
Thats great I love Black Echo's writing style, knew it was him before I saw the rest when he said "my gloved hand" haha. I wonder if his wife knows he beats on the grand prix like that. :lol:
CamaroSSBoy346
05-09-2004, 12:04 PM
dunno. Hes selling the GTP though.
Sean
05-09-2004, 05:07 PM
LOL! Good read..
YogsVR4
05-09-2004, 08:53 PM
:lol2: thanks for that one
Howielong
05-09-2004, 09:02 PM
Lol funny stuff. Carzy people.
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