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Discussion Starter #1
Found this on one of my other forums and had to laugh... Here ya go:

I borrowed my wife's Geo Metro last night. One liter of raw
power, Three 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 from 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
compe*****ion. 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 poured 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 .3 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 even 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 interesection, 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 a 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 croswalk,
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 he
passed 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, myP165/55R13's
screaming in protest, as we raced to the next light. We coasted
down,
neck-and-neck, to the red light. I
tighened 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... ?



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Just a thought. Maybe skip the triple and try a double to ease you off the overdose of cappuccino octane. I use to have a festiva (due to divorce) and I think this was just driver error. I could of taken you with that Ford (Mazda). Festivas kick butt!!! Maybe next time. :p
 

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Discussion Starter #3

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about 10 years ago i had to drive a festiva for awhile (also due to a divorce) and it was a VERY durable car (don't ask me how i know) but it wouldn't fall out of a tree with a good push. ET's were measured in minutes. i will say now that gas is over $2.00 a gallon i am starting to miss that car.
 

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Discussion Starter #5
:eek:
begood said:
about 10 years ago i had to drive a festiva for awhile (also due to a divorce) and it was a VERY durable car (don't ask me how i know) but it wouldn't fall out of a tree with a good push. ET's were measured in minutes. i will say now that gas is over $2.00 a gallon i am starting to miss that car.
Quick,Look at what you said before it is too late.... :eek: Miss and Festiva should NEVER be in the same sentence. :rolleyes:



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i know, i know, i wasn't thinking clearly. i'll slap myself a couple of times to wake me up.
 

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does anyone have an extra Keyboard, Becuase I just spit my drink all over it laughing so hard.
 
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