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Fess up.


windjamer
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OK, fess up. We all done things with our cars we dont tell the kids about, I admit I could fill a book. I run a 58 Ford side by side with my cousin down the main street of town better than a mile and peddle to the metal at 3am and thats just for starters. Come on kiddies, fess up . What did you do that was just a little crazy?

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Filled a 1972 Oldsmobile Hurst Indy pace car with as many inebriated college buddies as would fit. As packed as it was, it took help from more than one person to drive it... shift, steer, brake, etc. It scares me to think we got away with it, let alone thinking that my own sons would try something as stupid when they go to college.

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So many stories...so little space to write about them. I remember doing "Dukes of Hazzard" jumps in my 1968 Roadrunner over a bridge in Cranbrook Institute north of Detroit without my lights at night. THAT was exciting! Scared the you know what out of a few buddies that way.

I remember driving around in my 1931 Dodge coupe with my buddy in the trunk and talking to me through a garden hose as the cop who pulled me over for a dim taillight was talking to me. I could hear what the cop was saying, but was really trying to stifle the sounds coming out of that hose.

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I may co-hold the world record for downhill drifting in a 1960's American car. I travelled thru India in 1970 and found myself in a mountain town in the foothills of the Himalayas. Hired a cab for the trip back to the lowlands. Fellow had a '60's Plymouth Sedan with absolutely no brakes other than the e-brake. A harrowing ride 47 miles downhill from 6000+ feet to sea level on narrow switchbacks and thru washouts followed. Engine off virtually the whole way, using the clutch for braking and the e-brake only when absolutely necessary. The 4 Indians in the car with me weren't the least bit excited.

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I once loaded WAY too many cinder block type patio blocks on and in my 1970 model VW Bug. I was moving and they were the floor of the kennel for my two Irish Setters so I had taken them up and was moving them from the rental house to my first house I just bought.

I loaded the blocks on a board I put in the add-on roof rack and tied them down. Then I loaded some inside on the floorboards and on the back seat after I put a drop cloth down. I think I even put some in the front passenger area floorboard.

Driving from the rental house to the new house I crossed a bridge that turned out to have ice on it where the road had been dry. The VW spun around several times like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride and came to rest in the middle of the two westbound lanes of I-64. crazy.gif The Lord was with me that day, I didn't hit a thing. But I sure drove extra carefully across the rest of the bridges. grin.gif

Bill was born and raised in Westfield, New Jersey until he was about fifteen. He and his dad built a new home on the river bank of the Raritan River in rural New Jersey in a SMALL town, Califon. There were lots of roads to drive fast on out there.

One day he was driving his brand new 7-Liter, had pegged the speedometer and about then the windshield trim piece came loose and went sailing out into a field in New Jersey near where he lived. He slammed on the brakes, backed up, picked up the trim and put it in the back seat. And then took off again.

Another time he was driving his new 1963-1/2 Ford Falcon Sprint hardtop. (We currently have the car he really wanted back then but could not afford, a 1963-1/2 Ford Falcon Sprint convertible. cool.gif ) He drove out of a curve to head down to a straight stretch of two-lane and hit a large patch of ice where the snow melt runoff had gone across the road and frozen over night. The car did a 360 in the middle of the road, he realized he was headed the right way so he just mashed the gas and took off again.

His dad had been a police officer in Westfield, then a fireman and finally the Fire Chief. All the cops knew who "Billy" was and that "Big Bill" was his dad. Strange, he got stopped at times but there never were any tickets. smirk.gif

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<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Quote:</div><div class="ubbcode-body"> That makes you the one her momma and daddy tried to warn her about. </div></div>

Loudly and repeatedly. We're still married after 48 years but the 54 Ford with the 56 Buick engine is long gone.......Bob

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I guess enough time has passed that I can talk about a couple of things I did. I was the Mayor of our city and the Chief of Police was a good friend of mine. One night I did what every young man would would have loved to do. We had a City picnic and early in the evenning the half barrel was floating, we dispatched a City police car to the liquor store to pick up another half barrel beer and deliver it to the party. But that's not all, I had a 70 Challenger that was pretty fast and the Chief had a GTO that he thought could take the Challenger. We had a new beltline highway that had just openned and about one oclock that morning the Chief got on the radio and found out where all the squads were and he said we are clear lets go. We lined up on the new highway and took off, I was about three car lengths ahead of him when I came to the new bridge that had some dips in it, I almost became airborn and backed off, that's when the Chief flew by me.

We compared notes over a few beers afterward and I said I wasn't looking at the speedometer what do you think we were doing. He said he was doing 150 when we hit the bridge.

That's when it was fun being a politician and the police chief your good friend.

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Back in early 1970 I skipped high school with a buddy and took my mom's '69 Coronet 440 hardtop up to Cadillac, Michigan from Detroit. We went to find some old Model T parts out in a field that my buddy told me about. We found 'em and loaded them up. It was snowing barn owls. We came down this grade and like a fool I tapped the brakes. Oops. We flew down the hill spinning and ended up bass ackwards into a deep snow bank. We dug the car out and looked down at the lower front fender where it had bounced off of the bank and spun. Ow!! That beautiful copper bronze colored front fender was curled up near the tire. We got the car home, worked out the fender somehow and all before my mom and dad got home from work. WHEW!! If they only knew.....

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Keiser, I and some of my farm boy buddys made some of those jumps when the Dukes where just a gleam in there daddys eye. We would station two guys one on each side of a two lane country road and hit the dip wide open. The guys on the road would watch to see if all four wheels left the road. You had to get all wheels in the air to be proclamed a DRIVER. Its true, the lord looks after fools.

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Alright Im gonna take a risk here. That risk being threatened death by many on here LOL.

In the last two seasons of enjoying the '38 I've probably ignition-switch-backfired it at least 50 times. At least. Now here's my C.Y.A. (cover yer AHEM)....actually was told how to do that by an old-timer...I even think it might have been someone on here... laugh.gif and of course warned "and that muffler peeled right open like a can of sardines!" SO what did I do? Try it OBVIOUSLY.

Havent ruptured one piece of exhaust equipment! It's all flex pipe and an off the shelf $18 special muffler, so no worries anyway. The muffler has very big creases in multiple spots...but no holes! hehe

As of lately, this summer, I stopped doing it for the most part. Got it out of my system I suppose. But man that is LOUD! *evil grin*

As well as multiple burnouts in the middle of nowhere in the cougar etc etc.

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Dick, I did the same thing as you in my home town back in 65. Drag raced a '63 1/2 390 cu in Ford with my '64 327, 250hp Impala, an automatic, his was a 4-speed. Nip and tuck, it was side by side all the way through town. eek.gif

Not a car or deer in sight.

My last wild escapade was in 1989 in an '88 Conquest. I had been accumilating a few crazy.gif speeding tickets and was on the way home late at night just outside of town. I hit the radar trap at about 70mph. I thought about stopping, but said what the heck, I can make it into town and behind a store before the cop even gets his lazy cruiser going good. Sure enough I come flying into town just past a curve , take a hard right behind the store and just rest across the seat, heart pounding pretty good. A buddy drives over, hollers at me and says, "The cops gone, Wayne. He was way behind you!" grin.gif

Strange how you slow down as you get older! grin.gif

Wayne

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Once when I went to a friend's high school to pick him up in my Roadrunner, I popped the clutch and I did a smokin' burnout in front of his school. I didn't realize that on the other side of the boulevard median strip bushes, there was a Detroit cop car. I just pulled over and sat there and waited for him do do a u-turn and ticket me (excessive speed/noise). He looked into my car and said "Gee there isn't even a girl in your car...who were you trying to impress?".

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Once while cruising down the John Lodge freeway in Detroit with a friend, he (we) got away from the cops. We were in a '64 GTO convertible 4 speed, maroon with a white interior and a white top. We were cookin' along at about 95 when this Detroit cop car pulled in behind us with the gumballs lit up (that was before the light bars). Steve just would not pull over and before you knew it, the cops were alongside him screaming at him to pull over. So....he pulled over...waaay over to the exit ramp! Tore off the freeway and down a few side streets and we were gone. Those two cops probably looked for us until they retired!!

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It was about a week before getting my driver's license and turning 16. I was driving around (illegally since I was still 15) in my 1931 Dodge around my neighborhood. I heard sirens a ways away near the Catholic school, so I went to check it out. There was a small fire or something so I drove by and gawked. I kept on going and I saw in my rear view mirror that a Royal Oak cop had pulled out. I drove slowly down the street and up the alley to my house with the cop following me. I got out and started walking away from the car like I hadn't seen him. He called me over and checked things out. He says "doesn't it say here that if you are driving on a permit that you need someone 21 years old or older with you?". I said yes and he looked into my car and said "do you see anyone in there who is 21 or older?". I said no and so he scolded me. He then asked me why I did not have a license plate on my car. I said "There's one on there". He walked around to the back and said "1931?". I made out like I didn't know the difference between "historical" plates and "antique" plates. He let me slide on all counts. He then asked if I wanted to sell my coupe.

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I grew up in Detroit's suburbs in Woodward Avenue's heyday. Used to ride my bike two miles to get to the corner of 13-mile & Woodward, the epicenter of Muscle.

The girl I was dating at Homecoming was also to be my Prom date. In that time span I learned what a true car lover she was. Her father was a Chrysler engineer and she had a thing for mid-60s Mopars. Her bedroom walls were decorated with car pictures rather than the expected rock and movie star posters. Most of our dates were auto-centric.

My mother and I shared the ugliest 1967 Delmont 88. It was yellow with a white painted roof and a green interior. Not exactly Prom car material. One of our neighbors ran a family-owned Dodge dealership, Rader Dodge. As fate would have it he needed a strapping young man to install the fence around his new swimming pool and I needed a nice Prom car.

That's all I asked for was a "nice" car for Prom. I fulfilled my end of the bargain and he fulfilled his. I came home from school to find a new Dodge Coronet sitting in his driveway. Sweet! It was miles cooler than what I had but I must admit, I was a tad disappointed. I could have rented one of those.

I walked over to his house to collect my earnings. I expected the speech. He was very brief. He only said, "Don't drag race it, and don't take it out of state."

I looked at him quizzically. Why on Earth would I want to drag race a Coronet? He reached into his pocket, I thought, to toss me the keys. No, he obviously hit the remote in his pocket and his garage door opened to reveal a brand new 1970 440/RT 6-pack Challenger convertible with a Plum Crazy paint job, white wraparound stripe on the rear end and a white convertible top and interior.

You can only imagine the response from this 18 year-old. Somewhere between joy and ecstasy. The Prom wasn't until the next night. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret like that for 24 hours when you're that age?

I showed up to pick her up and she was dumb-struck. Pretty funny for Ms. MENSA to not be able to string together a couple of words. The car blew her away. It was her favorite car. She had taken numerous pictures of it at the previous Detroit Auto Show (long before it was NAIAS).

We went to the Prom at a huge catering hall. The valet parked the car in the absolute "A" spot so everybody walking in saw it and drooled on it. It was by far the baddest car at the Prom. There were at least 1,000 people at our Prom and everyone was talking about the car. Word got around that I had it for the weekend and everyone wanted to talk about it.

They called us to our tables and we had a very nice dinner. After dinner I danced the obligatory single dance and sat back down at our table. After a bit of small talk I excused myself to go to the restroom.

About 15 minutes later my date starts to wonder what happened to me. This hall we were in was huge and there was a Tiger baseball function going on that night so the place was packed. The place was so big that there were about a dozen men's rooms. My date asked one of her male friends to check out the bathrooms to see if I had fallen or something else had happened to me.

Now, about a half hour had passed. She thought I might have dumped her so she went out to where the car was parked and the spot was empty. As she stood in the middle of the spot I pulled back into the lot after drag racing on Telegraph Rd, another stretch of testosterone enhanced roadway. As I inched back into the spot she slowly backed up allowing me just enough room to park.

She was not happy. She crossed her arms on her chest and a chill went down my spine. I could feel that cold shoulder right through the windshield. I got out and proclaimed that I had won enough money drag racing to pay for the Prom tickets. I further explained that that left enough money to go to Cedar Point in Ohio the next day. Woo-Hoo!

I disconnected the speedometer cable and headed across the border for Sandusky, Ohio with my best friend and his girl in the back seat. Worst wind and sunburn of my life but the open air motoring to loud rock and roll music made it all worthwhile. I hooked the spedo cable back up, washed the car, turned it in and thanked the man for the best weekend of my life.

So, the two things he told me not to do, drag racing and taking it out of state, are what I'll remember most about the event. Oh, the girl that I left at the party to go drag racing, I ended up marrying almost 37 years ago. Our life is still auto-centric.:)

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<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: ZondaC12</div><div class="ubbcode-body">In the last two seasons of enjoying the '38 I've probably ignition-switch-backfired </div></div>I have done that on my Harley talk about a loud bang smile.gif

Before I was of driving age a friend would take his mothers car keys we would then push the car (I think it was a Toyota) down the alleyway out to the street and then take it out for a ride around town.

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<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Quote:</div><div class="ubbcode-body">I remember doing "Dukes of Hazzard" jumps in my 1968 Roadrunner over a bridge in Cranbrook Institute north of Detroit without my lights at night. THAT was exciting! Scared the you know what out of a few buddies that way.</div></div>

SCARIEST: I was a passenger on our way to high school in 1974 when 8, that's right <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">8</span></span>, of us riding in a <span style="text-decoration: underline"><span style="font-weight: bold">$20.00</span></span> 1961 Comet sedan did a "Dukes of Hazzard" jump on a set of railroad tracks @ 70 mph. We later measured a true distance in the air of just over 20 feet. The girl sitting on my lap made a dent in the roof with her head.

The car somehow made it, and even lasted another 2 months afterward.

I never set foot in that guy's car again, <span style="text-decoration: underline">any</span> car he owned. Even at 15 I knew I was lucky to live through it.

====================

FUNNIEST: On a youth group field trip to Canada when I was 19 we stopped in Wisconsin for dinner at a Pizza Hut with a McDonald's next door. This was on a Friday night, apparently just before some kind of high school game/event (I'd say football, but it was mid-August and it was more likely a pep rally). Lot's of kids at the McDonald's in uniforms/cheerleader outfits, banners, etc. The place was so packed most of us went to Pizza Hut to save time.

Some kids who were apparently from the rival school began driving around the McDonald's quickly in a VW bus, shouting insults and obscenities in a less than sober tone of voice. One kid in the front passenger seat seemed to only be able to say "<span style="font-style: italic">You're all a--holes!</span>" in a blaring, slurred monotone. It was repeated <span style="font-style: italic">ad nauseum</span> for numerous laps, causing some of us to laugh at the scene already.

The chaperons decided we should get the heck out of there ASAP! We gathered up our food (most were done eating anyway) and piled into the school bus as fast as possible.

Just as we were pulling out, the VW driver (<span style="font-style: italic">who had been going faster and faster around the McDonald's, mainly to the bemusement of the other kids</span>) decided he didn't want to drive out into the street and back in again to circle the restaurant anymore. He tried to cut through the aisles of parking in front of the building, which had a raised area between with curbs and grass. There happened to be 3 empty spaces where he thought he could try.

Unfortunately for him, the curbs were exactly the same disance apart as the VW's wheelbase, and too high for the bus to climb without a head of steam. The front wheels of the bus hit the first curb, popped up in the air about a foot, and cleared the second curb while the driver applied the brakes. He stopped straddling the grass area, wheels stuck on either side and not enough power to move the bus over in either direction (<span style="font-style: italic">Lo as he tried, frantically rocking the VW back and forth!</span> grin.giflaugh.gif ).

As we left the people from the other school were approaching these guys to help them with their problem. At least I assume that's what they were going to do! smirk.giflaugh.gifsmirk.gif

I never laughed so hard in my life!

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I grew up in the Los Angeles area in the 1950's. I friend of mine lived just outside Griffith Park where scenes from the movie "Rebel Without A Cause" was filmed. All entrances to the park are closed at night with locked gates. He "borrowed" a master key from one of the gardener's trucks so we had access to the park at night. We would take a small caravan of 4 or 5 cars into the park late at night and have all the winding roads to ourselves. We would play until the LAPD gave chase. We would rotate "gate" persons who would unlock and relock the gates much faster than the police ever could. It was great fun and we never got caught. The biggest problem I always had was playing sports car with my '50 Olds. It could really go in a straight line but the handling and braking was not it's best feature. I didn't dare relate this story to my son until he was in his 30's.

1947 Buick Estate Wagon

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Ok, I got ya all beat! Sure I street raced in the sixties, exceeded so many posted speed limits I should still be in prison, drove a car with a cell phone and hamburger at the same time.

BUT, without any shaddow of a doubt the most wreckless, most crazy and wild thing I have ever done with....keep this under you hat....I defied the Derry Township Fire Police and exited out an entrance of the Hershey Swap Meet back in 1979. THAT takes guts!!!!

Bob

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I got home from Korea in 1961. Saturday morning a sit on the back porch with my older brouther having a morning coffee and looking at a pretty 40 something olds.Bob I said what are you gonna do with that coupe? Well he ans. thought I would give it to Addaline (his wife)or make a stock car of it.I told him Bob, Addaline cant chew bubble gum and walk stright,what the he** makes you think she can learn to drive??The tool box was on the porch and I reached down and picked up a ball pean hammer. I walked out to the Olds walked awrond it twice and smakwed the windsheld. Looks like a stock car to me I said. Like I said it was saturday morning, we had that puppy on the track sat. night. I quilfied it in the heat Bob won the main. Addaline passed away about five years ago, my favorett sister/in/law but she never did learn to drive.

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In 1969 a friend of mine worked for a local drive-in theater. His Boss owned several theaters in the area and would have my friend run supplies between them. He would use his bosses 1958 Plymouth station wagon. I think the car had a 318 and one night he asked me to ride along. He wanted to see what the Plymouth would do on the Interstate. I don't remember the speed we got up to, but I'm sure it was over 100 MPH. We made it back OK, but the next day the car frame broke due to severe rust.

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Five years ago while my oldest son was stationed in Korea, I had his 1970 Charger 500 here at the house. Some kid in a new Mustang pulled up along side and started baiting me at a traffic light. The Charger had recently been restored and the 383 was making 425 hp. I set the line lock and smoked that Mustang out....he never left the traffic light. What a great feeling!

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Stories are meant to entertain, inform, and to share knowledge and experiences. So, this story begins with the order of a brand new loaded ’73 Pinto Runabout (approx. $2,300), but due to the gas crisis there was a run on them ad a wait for 3 months. I was working as an inspector at Chrysler Lynch Road assembly at the time making the ’73 Chargers and Coronets. The car that I was currently driving back and forth to work, a ’62 Ford Fairlane with a 6 cylinder and a 3-Speed on the column with no floor on the driver side just a piece of plywood and a floor mat, was almost out of life. One day driving home though the neighborhood streets I caught sight of a car in a yard behind the bushes in the corner of my eye. I stopped and went back to the house and up to the door, I knocked and asked if the car was for sale and the older couple said that it belonged to their son who was just of in the army and would be off shortly to Vietnam but thought it might be for sale. I asked if I could look at it and they said yes. After having a look I saw that it was a low mile ’69 Dodge Super Bee, 383 4-Spd., a very clean car. I went back to the door and after talking with the father he said that his son calls every other night and that he would ask if he might sell the car and if so for what price. I checked back a coupe of days later and learned that he would sell the car for $900. I took the Super Bee and cancelled the order on the Pinto; the salesman even gave me my deposit back saying that he would have no trouble selling the car as I ordered it.

Now we could get into a discussion on why I would purchase a Dodge Super Bee when the gas crisis was getting well under way but we’ll just accept the logic the way it worked itself out, won’t we? It was a nice car and was actually my second muscle car. The thing was that after driving the car a bit I noticed that it would load up with carbon and when an opportunity presented itself I would clear the carbon out to improve the performance and return the smooth operation.

One evening I was returning home with a friend and the car was stumbling a bit at a stoplight just at an entrance to the freeway. Well the light turned green and I decided that I was going to run through the gears and clear out the build up yet again. There are those out there that would believe that a 383 would have so-so performance, this was not the average 383 and won its fair share of races. I was pushing about 130 and back down to about 90 and then noticed in my mirror a set of fog lights appear over a hill a ways back and thought to my self that I was not going to let this car catch up and took off again. I noticed that the car was making up some of the distance and decided to drop my speed back down again for what ever reason. Another mile or so and I noticed that the car was a State Police Car and I dropped down to about 70 and when the State Police Car was about 10 – 20 lengths behind me turned his lights on. I did pull over and offered up a long story about the car being new to me, the carbon build up and the first time the friend was in the car. Thankfully radar was not widely in use, but the officer told me that he knew that something was up when he observed me going the opposite direction and first the smoke from the tires and then the carbon from the exhaust and although he could not officially time me he guessed that I was going well over 100 based on the amount of time that it had taken him to catch me. It was a different time back then and I ended up with scolding and a 15 over ticket. This is really one of the more tame stories. I did grow up and did become responsible and have not had a ticket in the last 25 years or more. I would in the end though rather recall the stories where; I rebuilt an engine or started my first vintage car engine for the first time, the first time that I learned of the downside of the front opening vintage windshields and bees. After a lot of years there without question are a lot of stories in most all of us. Now to get back to the here and now…

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I spent my youth between Binghamton NY, and Brandt PA ,a small village, population in the mid 40s about 50 not counting cats dogs and chickens. Population today about the same.

My grandmother owned a big old house there built some time in the 1800s. It had no runing water,but did have a two hole out house out back. I dont remember the whole story, but I do remember droping a large yeast cake down one hole. We wont talk about that. There was a famly in the village named Brown.

They had a young man (SON) named Fenton. Today you might call him slow, back then we called him touched,amoung outher names. One day Fenton pulled in the back yard with a real nice model a Ford,got out and sat on the porch with my uncle. Nothing was said for a few moments then Fenton ask my uncle,How ya like me car Pete? Uncle Pete didnt ans. for a moment,just looked at the car and after what seemed like a lifetime said nice car Fenton,be a lot nicer if it was a convertable. After a moment or so Fenton declared he could make it a convertable and my uncle said no you cant and the fight was on. Yes I can no you cant. This went on for a short while then Fenton said, I could take that there ax and chop that top off in no time. My uncle said Fenton, Ill bet you two dollers you cant chop that top off in less than a hr. Well, long story short Fenton got a convertable and uncle lost the bet.

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In 1965 Coming back from a party when I was stationed in Kansas, I was in a 1964 Austin Healey Sprite and a friend in a Spitfire, we were travelling down a road we had never been on before at night and in heavy fog as fast as those cars would go. The center line stripe was our only clue as to where the road was. Too long on beer and too short on sense back then.

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Actually I did this with the kids in the car.....my daughter's elementary school always blocked off the church/school parking lot with cones so that they could play there and then be picked up by waiting parents in neat and orderly lines. They also blocked access to park in the rear lot which was about the only other place to park besides the lines of parents.

Yes, you guessed it. After being accosted by the empresses of the parking lot about where you can and can't park, I would run down the cones to get out of the lot if blocked in. Yep, those cones would get dragged a bit before they popped out from under my Ford station wagon. The next day you would see the undercoating marks on the cones I hit. Also, we enjoyed serpentining through the cones on Sunday nights when the "empresses" weren't yet around. My only rebellion against chicken-stuff rules in an otherwise law-abiding life! I am so ashamed! (Not!)

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