The sound jolted me from my reverie at a stoplight in a small town just east of San Antonio. It sounded like a weed whacker farting. I heard it again. I looked to my left. In the lane next to my Z/28 sat a two-door Hyundai Accent with Beavis at the wheel and Butthead riding shotgun. It had the obligatory coffee can-sized muffler hanging below the rear valence. Bolted to the deck lid: an erector set-type spoiler that looked like it weighed more than the rest of the car. Beavis (or maybe it was Butthead) had plastered the fenders and doors with decals of kanji characters and there was a bright red VTEC sticker splayed across the top of the windshield. It looked as though they had just seen “The Fast and the Furious” and they were out to cop some street creds in their killer kimchee burner.
Beavis revved the engine a third time and they both looked at me in slack-jawed expectation. I raised one eyebrow, Spock-like, then rolled my eyes, shook my head slightly and went back to watching the red light. Undaunted, Beavis blipped the throttle yet again. This time the car lunged forward slightly. Obviously he was spoiling for a fight. After all, what did he have to fear from the middle-aged guy in the rear wheel drive midlife crisis car with an automatic transmission who was listening to the same music his grandparents liked? What was that group? Something called The Beach Boys? What could a fogey like that possibly know about cool street machines? I decided to teach him that he should be careful what he wished for.
The light turned green. Beavis must have had the engine fully tached up because he actually managed to chirp the Hyundai’s front tires when he took off. He was winding the engine for all it was worth, blaaat-blaaaaat-ing through the gears. I sat there and watched the show as they headed toward the next stoplight about a mile up the road, at full throttle.
After waiting a three-count I took off. No drama, no smoke, no squealing tires. Just the transfer of copious amounts of all-American torque to the tarmac, accompanied by the mellifluous soundtrack of the LS1’s 310 horses. It’s the sweetest music this side of heaven, but a sound that’s totally foreign to a generation raised on four-cylinder front-drive econoboxes and SUV poseurmobiles. It’s a sound I don’t think B & B ever heard before, and probably one they didn’t soon forget.
As I closed in on them I could tell they were beginning to panic. I could see them both lurching back and forth in their seats as though they hoped their bodily inertia would improve their forward momentum. The frantic exhaust note told me the Accent was giving its all to the cause, but to no avail. B & B were about to experience first hand what happens when youthful ignorance and arrogance run head first into the cruel, unyielding roadblock of reality.
The end was mercifully quick. Before I got halfway to redline in second gear, I passed them and gave them a slight wave. (Yes, I used my entire hand.) Their expressions were priceless, like they’d just learned the truth about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy all at once, in a single blinding flash. I actually felt sorry for them– for a moment.
Then my pity gave way to laughter as I considered the utter ridiculousness of the situation. I felt a little like Evelyn Couch (Kathy Bates) in the parking lot scene from “Fried Green Tomatoes” – minus the willful destruction of personal property, of course – scoring a small victory for old farts everywhere. As you get older, such victories are fewer and further between. You take ‘em when and where you can get ‘em, and you revel in ‘em as long as you can.
I drove that same route every day for about a year. I never saw Beavis, Butthead or that Hyundai again. I’d like to think they pushed it off in the nearest arroyo and invested their money in a real car and some driving lessons. And hopefully by now they’ve learned kanji isn’t Korean and that VTEC has no relevance to a Hyundai. Probably not, though. They probably just added more decals, ground effects and badges to that poor Hyundai and kept on getting humiliated. Either that or they’ve moved on the latest fad and donked their whip with 26-inch spinners, candy paint and Lambo doors.
And me? I still enjoy the Beach Boys. I now drive a six-speed Corvette instead of the Z/28. I still enjoy an occasional stoplight challenge, too. Anyone with a Sonata want to run for pinks?
I’m still too young to know what the Muscle-car craze of the sixties and early seventies was like, but from what I’ve been told by older (I’m sorry) enthusiasts, some things never change. There always seems to be some personality types (for lack of a more precise word) that hop on the latest bandwagons and seem to only pick out the lamest clues and blow them out of proportion. Tasteless, gawdy, ignorant, what else can you say?
There was a time (5 years ago or so) when I told people I had a Honda and loved it, I also had to immediately specify it was stock, before being asked about the spoiler or target of an orbital eye-roll.
There’s so many people in the world, there’s always some idiots out there to ruin it for the rest of us. That’s life unfortunately.
Tee hee, too funny.
Encountered a neon orange, fast and flatulent 90s Honda recently while out in a big Ram press truck. It skittered across three lanes of traffic, passed out of sight beneath the nose of my rig, and took up the position in the lane beside me, farting menacingly (lol) while the white-hatted twin occupants (are they like, all the same guys in those things?) smirked at my 5,000 lb. + ride.
Usually I ignore those dudes – but they kinda pissed me off, cutting it that close, and their obnoxious boombox was disturbing my reverie. I let them get ahead by about half a block before punching it. They didn’t stand a chance.
At the next lights I think they finally took note of the red calipers and the Viper insignia on the ram’s hood before slinking away, wee-wees shrivelled, in search of a fart-piped Cavalier to play with.
We all know street-racing is immature, dangerous and socially unacceptable, but that sure doesn’t make it any less fun! Boys and their toys, I guess. Count me guilty from time to time. Besides, it’s so much fun to put the motor on some weenie who thinks his ride is the fastest one on the road.
My most recent venture into the stoplight grand prix was actually with a motorcycle. This dude on a modified Harley clearly thought his bike was something special. He was blasting away from each light leaving all us pikers in four-wheelers in his fumes. I kept behind him at a couple of lights then when the road was clear ahead I got next to him. He gave me a disdainful glance and rolled the power on. He looked over at me as I reached the end of first gear at about 40. I caught second and stayed with him easily, then surged past him 2-3 car lengths to about 75 before we both needed to back it down. I had to turn off, but he looked frustrated and baffled at being blown off by some middle-aged dude in a 10-year old Saab turbo. And I never even got to the good stuff in 3rd gear!
My Saab, wide wheels/tires and all, doesn’t normally attract the attention of the ricer boys in their fart can cars, but when it does they are never a challenge. I actually have concern that since they tend to be overladen with testosterone they will do stupid things and are usually such poor drivers that they may manage to kill themselves or someone else trying to prove their manhoood. I always hope to find one itching to have a go on a back road someplace but while they lower their cars and put on rubber-band tires few wiill actually drive fast on the back twisties.
In my experience, there’s little method to the madness of selecting opponents from these folks. Although it doesn’t happen often, I’ve had oddly customized cars (usually family sedans modified on a par with Frank’s opponents) challenge me while I’m on my motorcycle – a liter-displacement sportbike. I generally let them go – a victory over such as that is unworthy of the effort expended. Every once in a great while, however, it becomes necessary to demonstrate to one or the other them that their giant slab of a spoiler, poorly-applied stickers, lack of suspension, and stove-pipe exhaust have not yet quite succeeded in bringing their power/weight ratio in line with that of a modern sport bike…
-S5
I listen to the Beach Boys in my Rsx Type S…Where does that put me?
Nobody knows what the heck I’ve got when they roll up at the lights…
It started life as a postal jeep, but now it’s LHD thanks to an AMC Pacer front suspension blah blah zillion mods- and a 1998 Camaro V6 powertrain with a Thunderbird SC supercharger.
It gives me enormous statisfaction when some lowered Civic pilot slides up next to me and hears the supercharger then asks: ‘What IS that?’ It works out pretty well, 260ish hp and 1900 lbs of ‘looks like a pup’ jalopy jeep makes for entertaining encounters. But don’t show your full hand- In the immortal words of Milton Berle: “Only take out enough to win.”
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v614/cheatcommando/mar05lprofilejeep.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v614/cheatcommando/newM90front.jpg
While we are gloating about our own excellence and revelling in victories scored while the constable was out to lunch… I’ve never owned a “powerful” car… I’ve never won a light to light drag race against anything. I prefer to let the obnoxious people try and follow me through an exit or entrance ramp, that gives you a good feel for just how little confidence they have in their car and what sort of skill level they have achieved.
A couple days ago a jeep was flashing to pass in a patroled area as the roadway was coming to an end (within 2 tenths of a mile). The 65mph highway would now branch off into three exit ramps. I let the jeep ride my ass going the limit till I got to the ramp… into the throttle apex the turn and exit tracking out into the next lane at a higher speed than the impatient jeep driver dared to duplicate.
Its not what you drive but how you drive it. I’ve learned this simple rule to be very true when driving road courses. I may be 140hp in the hole but if I drive a better line and drive it smoother than you can… I don’t need that power because I’ll be through the turns quicker and at a higher speed so you can use that power to play catch up on the straights.
mmm…. I often start races with cars that are clearly faster than mine because I like to see and hear them driving fast.
Also, enough owners of said vehicles are bad enough drivers that I occaisionally win.
That Hyundai could have eaten your lunch if it had a turbo 46G3, I have seen some sleepers that do. Anyway, these four cylinder cars are bought because they are cheap. My 91′ AWD Talon was picked up a few years ago for $3k in excellent condition, and insurance is cheap as well. I’ve put a couple grand in it for a bigger turbo, exhaust, injectors, and some other tuning/performance devices and it runs consistent high 12’s on pump, and mid 12’s on race gas and pulls 1.7 60 ft’s. This is why I love (some of) these 4 cyl cars. With AWD on the street I routinely kill camaros, gto’s and mustangs since I have traction from a dig.
Ahhh, the Harleys. What fun.
One night, on my way back from dinner, I was driving an M5 westbound through Cleveland, on I-90, when a douschebag on a Harley came blatting up. It’s the same syndrome, the my-exhaust-is-louder-than-yours-therefore-I-must-be-faster simplex 9.
For whatever reason, he parked his ride next to mine and rode in sync, both of us going deaf from his chosen steed. I couldn’t hack the noise, I cherish my peace. And at that moment,I cherished my Zeppelin. So without shifting, I punched it, the 8 cylinder Bimmer mill loaded up and launched forward. I grinned from ear to ear as I left Harley guy far behind, a solid half mile between us, he left alone to rot in his chosen form of noise pollution, while I polluted my environment with a Whole Lotta Love.
Or so I thought.
The guy on the Hog, repleat with ape hangers, gave it the gas and eventually caught up.
Louder and louder, his blatting, my indignance, he soon pulled even with my window and smiled. Courteous to the end, I smiled back, dropped to fourth, and eased into full-throtle. The M5 reared onto its haunches, squirmed, and rocketed forward. As I giggled, I imagined myself one of those test pilots whose faces deform from the g’s.
A full mile ahead of the Harley, I eased off and relished the moment.
Then he returned. And I did it again. Laws (of physics and otherwise) being what they are, I couldn’t set the cruise at triple digit speeds, and tear through Downtown Cleveland. Ever see our Deadman’s Curve?
So this game of cat and mouse continued a few rounds longer, until I came to my exit. I signalled my intent to pull off, Harley guy waved. I waved back.
A fun time was had by all.
I had the same experience as you growing up, but the rides are reversed. My first car was a jet black 1991 Honda CRX Si that I bought my senior year in high school. It was a decently sporty little thing, with average acceleration (8 secs 0-60 and 16s in the quarter) and handling that would put many sportscars to shame. When I got to college and started making more money I decided to start modding it. But not with bodykits and wings and stickers… no no… only motor and chassis modifications. I swapped an Integra GSR 1.8 liter into it, aggressive gearing in the tranny, Type R intake manifold, cold air intake, exhaust and a header, Tokiko springs and shocks and a rear sway bar. It now ran 6 secs 0-60 and low 14s in the quarter. Now, even though the car looks totally stock and sleeper, I seemed to attract lots of guys in Mustangs that were looking to humiliate a poor guy and his grocery getter Honda. Boy were they surprised. I won quite a bit and kept up with even more. Camaro guys didn’t really take that much interest in me, which was a good thing for me. :) I got the jump on a couple of LT1s, but most and of course anything with an LS1 would leave me in the dust(but then again anything with an LS1 will leave almost anything without forced induction in the dust). Good times those. I eventually got tired of the economy car interior and the dump truck ride caused by the aftermarket suspension and sold it. Now of course I wish I’d kept it. The strange thing is that now I own an “arrest-me-yellow” 350z and nobody wants to play with me, import or domestic. :)
20 or so years back, in Huntsville, Alabama, the local BMW store happened to score one of the very first incarnations of the M5. I was admiring the notorious, unassuming, solid black beast when the Service Manager, Stan (a close friend) asked me if I would like to go for a ride. I, of course, enthusiastically accepted the invitation. Also along for the ride was a BMW technician…three of us, with Stan, driving. (Side note: Stan is an import himself, with a very pronounced English accent.) Several blocks into our jaunt, as we waited at a traffic light, a redneck pistonhead driving a ragged-out Camero, complete with huge rear tires and no muffler to speak of, rolled up next to us. We at first ignored his tapping the accelerator, lurching forward and toothless grin. As the traffic light changed, Mr. Camero nailed his go pedal…Stan obliged and we blew right past our competitor almost instantly. At the next stoplight, Mr. Camero lowered his window and frantically asked, “What da hell ya got under da hood in dat thang??” Stan politely replied with his thick accent, “It’s a six cylinder, sir.” The look on his face was priceless!
That’s the great thing about been able to write a good story, you can make a no-account, everyday non-event sound like the final showdown between good and evil. Nice story Frank but you will forgive me if I don’t get worked up about your ‘victory’ over an old Hyundai and it’s pair of hopeful pilots! Sadly, if you imagine the customer exit of a new car dealer as a stoplight line, those pesky Hyundais are taking off like wildfire and leaving all that “all-American torque” languishing in the back lot. It would seem that the Glory days of American muscle cars are better viewed through the rear view mirror. In a sense that’s what wrong with the industry, too much hankering for what used to be, and no vision for the future. That all being said, watch out for those sleepers Frank, I saw a 15 year old Civic blast away from a GT Mustang just the other day. The look of shock on the face of the ‘stang pilot was priceless!!
While I generally share your sentiments toward Fast&Furious wannabes, I have only one question: do you really think that any 4-cylinder, econocar-based design is inferior by definition in comparison to some Detroit iron, however muscular? Good luck in street racing with Subaru WRX.
It’s apples and oranges – Hyundai is doing a fantastic job of building economical, good quality cars now, there’s no denying that. But when you want lope and lust, they ain’t cutting it.
No such thing as one-size-fits-all in the auto world, thank god – imagine going to the same restaurant every night? There’s a local family owned place that serves fabulous home-made pasta & steak…but it ain’t cheap and the wait is looooong. Nonetheless, when I get a craving for their grilled filet,nothing else will do.
Other times, no fuss and economical fit the bill…
Looking forward to driving a bright red, Tiburon Tuscani all next week, BTW.
Ah, fond memories of the one time someone challenged me… he pulled up in a big honkin’ white pickup of some variety or another, and revved his engine in my general direction. I was in a Cadillac DeVille at the time, so I dropped it into neutral, made the engine purr louder a couple of times, went back to D, and waited for the green. The light finally changed, Mr. Macho’s truck takes off, I punch the Caddy’s go-pedal, and left the poor bastard in the dust. It may look like a tuna boat, but ah, I loved the power under that hood.
Frank:
Didn’t your mama teach you to pick on somebody your own size? ;-)
moawdtsi:
Absolutely true that you can make an 11-second just-about-anything, including a Hyundai, but the typical rice racer spends his $ on big wings, fart pipes (I love that term), and go-fast stickers than on actual hardware. These guys deserve to have their butts handed to them again and again until they understand.
Although I don’t condone such behavior (wink wink), I have been known to take rice racers to the ol’ skool, first in an Impala SS, now in the GTO.
I had a similar experience while I had a Pontiac Solstice on loan for a review. Lest we forget, many of our friends 30 to 35 years ago, were just like these kids. Some didn’t survive street racing then, nor did their cars, save as donor machines (for other rebuilds). Boy (and girl) racers were always thus.
If you have forgotten, you might look at the movie “Two-Lane Blacktop” with the late Dennis Wilson, James Taylor and (also the late) Warren Oates, campaigning a ’55 Chevrolet in primer (Wilson and Taylor) against Oates in a ’70 Pontiac GTO “The Judge.” Both were vying for the affections of a female (whose actual name escapes me).
Chevrolet Camaros are now considered “classics” in the same way our parents did the Cord, Dusenberg and Auburn. For “off the rack” machines, the Camaros offered incredible performance. It’s really the same deal for the best of the “rice burners.”
If a Plymouth ‘cuda, with the atrocious level of build quality they came with back in the day, can be a Big Deal in 2006, maybe a 1999 Acura Integra Type-R will be in 2026 (albeit in low miles and in condition 2). Hey, like many things, you heard it first at TTAC.
oooh you dusted an accent!!! wow that’s pretty lame dude.
i dusted a shelf the other day but i’m not writing about it.
This isn’t an article meant to impress others – it’s comedy. Mr. Hyundai Accent Driver was practically convinced that he could beat an American car through sheer force of will. After all, “AZN” cars always win, right?
I’ll bet that driver’s idea of sports tuning centered around one scene in Fast and the Furious: the one where our heroes beat out a Ferrari on the highway. They must have been convinced from then onwards that sports cars are just expensive body kits.
Finally! Someone gets it! Thank you, JFingas.
Maybe they saw an H and thought Hyundai was the same as Honda. Most people can’t tell asians and asian names apart.
Horsepower wars? In 2006? So in the end – whose car burned fossil fuels the fastest?
Technically you both lost; catastrophic depreciation clobbered both rides.
I’m still flattened that someone bothered ‘ricing out’ an Accent. No, sorry, ricing out an Accent and confusing it with a Honda. This goes in the same book as people who put body kits on base model ’98 vintage Corolla’s and huge rear-wings on K-cars. I’m not quite sure I see the point. Even if it’s just posing, isn’t a good fake supposed to look like the real thing?
Then and again, people also tune, and spend lots of money modifying J-bodies as well, so whose to say…
http://www.canadiandriver.com/articles/pb/jbash.htm
I Loved the story. Thanks.
Great article and Great writing Frank. Loved the humor!
So thats it? An article about toasting some moron in an accent?
This lame achievement is The Truth About Cars?
I think you guys need to get back to reviewing cars, or muck raking on the industry itself. I wouldn’t even mind more articles about how great the boxter is, just give us something
This is live-journal worthy.
Ahh, hilarious.
Terrific Article.
I’m 16 and have a 91 Toyota Supra, but I refuse to let it look riced out. I will not put stupid decals, 21″ rims, fart cans, etc on it. When I purchase my new exhaust for it, I will be looking for the quietest, deepest sounding one. After all, who wants their car to sound like a bumble bee? I will not waste money on wings, body kits, etc. They dont actually help performance at typical highway speeds much, ad ususally look hideous.
BTW, a performance mag actually dynoed a Civic before and after a new 3″ exhaust was installed.
Results: DECREASE in both Torque & HP. I love it!
Almost exactly a year ago, in August of ’05, I decided to stretch the legs on one of my cars, burn the carbon so to speak on a 170 mile ride to the Hershey antique car show from home in Long Island.
I decided upon my ’74 Jensen Interceptor Mk III FF because after a recent overhaul including all the rubber bushings replaced, I wanted to see how she handles.
2/3 down the stretch I hit of course the eternal roadwork near Friedricksburg on the I-78 where for two miles the traffic became a tedious stop and go affair.
Next to me are two kids in a ’90 someting Golf GTI with “the works” stopping, spurting 15 feet, stopping again, throwing up gravel against my (brittle) 30year old glassfibre and aluminium bodywork. Both wearing their baseball hats backward and fidgeting to get my attention.
Since in the stop & go traffic my A/C’s compressor only manages a tepid breeze against the heat from the 440 Chrysler sourced engine I finally lower the window, to see what they want, when the two clowns gave me their best” Waynes World, EXCELLENT!!!” imitation, probably mistaking the Jensen for a Pacer, because of that curved rear windshield!!
I tried to explain the difference to them only to get that blank you-lost-my-short-attention-span stare I get from my college bound son when I try to go over his Visa statements with him!
One asked: “What you got under the hood?”, I wanted to tell them: “A HEMI” but instead I said:” some Chrysler engine.”
The driver kept blipping the throttle lounging forward, probably ruining the clutch. I could hear by the air intake that he probably had the K&N upgrade or something and I heard the whistling of a compressor too. So I obliged and asked him what he’s running and like a well rehearsed mantra he rattled down all the mods ending in something like “fourhundredhorsepowerplusatthefrontweels”, Very impressive. Up ahead the traffic cleared for a while, although the pavement still consisted of gravel, rather then tarmac and I decided to play with the kids and give them a taste of their own medecine!!
Sure enough, after both our cars managed the drop the inch from tarmac to gravel, the kid floored the GTI in an almost standstill of smoke and flying gravel!!
I eased the Interceptor on the gravel and floored it too, after the initial 10 inches the GTI gained on me, the Ferguson all-weel drive purchased grip on all four weels and I let ‘er rip!!!
There must be a whole lot of the 390 horses that the car had new still be on duty as with nary a spin the Jensen catapulted forward like a bat out of hell. In its hay days a Jensen did the 0-60 in about 6 seconds (in 1974!!) maybe it lost a second due to age but on gravel against a wildly spinning overblown front weel driver, it was no contest!! By then I had changed to the left lane, leaving EVERYTHING behind me in the dust(literally)!!
The GTI became a smaller and smaller point wayyyy back on the horizon, never to be seen again, even after I stood down and let off the mushroom under the glare of wifey’s uncomprehending stare!!
I can only imagine the ribbing the 400hp GTI owner got from his friend, about having his doors blown off by an AMC Pacer!! Ah these IGNORANT kids, today!!!
Thank you, “Vallux06” on behalf of all of us who cut our teeth on old English crocks, back in the 1970s, when we were like the late Rodney Dangerfield in small towns where Mustangs got more respect than Austin-Healeys (largely because like the kids in your story, people didn’t know what they were). Of course, like the creations of the late Sydney Allard, yours is a Trans-Atlantic car, thanks to that venerable bit of Chrysler iron, under the hood.
You sure are a good sport too, to understand; and not take offense with “Wayne and Garth” thinking you had a Pacer. As those creations of Mike Myers and Dana Carvey would say, “Party on, dude!”
Terry,
Thank you for the encouraging words. It means a lot coming from the experts!! Almost makes up for the days of “silent treatment” from the better half, that doesn’t (to the extend) share the same passion!! Lol!!
As with almost everything in life, FIXING THINGS is almost all the fun!! My current project is the restauration of a ’75 Triumph “Stag” that I found and “sold” a friend of mine to!! (Instead of the other way around, lol) He’s mature enough, so he assures me, not to be bothered driving around with a car called “Stag”.
The culmination of our efforts wil be to replace the troublesome small bore V8 apparently blown do to seized bearings. with a pristine all aluminium 3.5 litre V8, that I salvaged from a Rover P5B, as God and Triumph originally intended to!!
Andy Carter- a ricer with good taste in music.
Thanks, Frank Williams, for a fun and interesting article about what’s wrong with today’s car culture. Imagine my fun and glee when I get to do the same thing to Accords, Supras, etc. in my LT1 Buick Roadmaster Wagon. The ricers are so humiliated, they usually slink back about three or four cars and hide in line. Mine even has the woodgrain!
C’mon… Cars have changed in the last three decades. Kids haven’t.
If we were 30 years younger, we’d be in that Hyundai and thinking it was one sweet ride. Right now, that car is what those kids and their buddies can afford – unless they can’t afford anything that good. So, they work with what they’ve got.
Andy Carter – Heck, I have Credence Clearwater Revival in my RSX Type S. Go fig.
porker – What exactly is a ricer, anyway? Is it the kids who’ve attached the 747 spoiler to the trunk, stickers everywhere, fart cans (great term!), etc. all on imports? Are those who just happen to have a stock import lumped in? Just curious…
ricer or rice-rocket basically describes modded-out Japanese brand cars, although it seems to include any heavily modified small car these days.
Anything from Civics to Celicas and 350Z’s modified cosmetically (body kits, air dams, wings, lowered suspension, wheels). Sometimes they have engine and performance modifications to match, sometimes not.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=rice+rocket
Street racing is one of the dumbest things you can do. You are putting the lives of innocent people at risk and I can’t believe TTAC is promoting it!
haha jk
I have more fun in canyons watching someone try to walk away/keep up with me in my light-weight two-seater. I’ll not even break a sweat while the other guy puts up a heroic fight keeping his out-of-it’s-element rubber on the road.
I don’t usually bother engaging with the kind of chav f**kwits who mod up their cars, but I was taking a 300C (with the Hemi) out for a drive one night when this little dickhead in a Citroen Saxo pulled up alongside me at a red light, revving his engine.
I could see him sizing up the car, not knowing what this big Yank tank was (it was a press car, one of the first RHDs in the UK).
The puzzled look on his face in my rearview mirror when I left him in my dust was priceless…
This has been a great thread. It’s so good that we can all have this kind of discussion, except for the disillusioned few who don’t seem to realize the “Truth About Cars” is NOT just about the latest gee-whizz models and the bling of electronic junk. The Truth About Cars is ALL the things we can and will do to and with cars. And the fun we have doing it.
If you’re a gearhead you understand that new cars are just the flavor of the month, and that a whole lot of car guys could care less about the latest ride from Detroit, Ingolstadt, Munich, Stuttgart, and wherever it is that Korean and Japanese cars are actually built these days.
Somebody said that people here who diss the ricer-boyz would actually be driving those cars if they were 30 years younger, but I disagree. For me, at least, European cars have always been the rides of choice. Never met a Japanese car I liked well enough to make payments on. And my friends who favor the hammer beat of a V8 sure wouldn’t have been caught dead in a ricer with the 45-pound chrome wheels, fart can exhaust and shopping cart handle rear wing.
To be sure, some of those ricers have been seriously modified and will absolutley fly. A friend got his Mitsu AWD Eclipse up to 400 hp before he sold it and he also knows how to drive. Nows he’s working on a Mitsu Evo. And a local near me has a Civic putting out similar power. But most ricers seem to be all all flash and no substance, fueled by testosterone.
There was a time when any pimply-faced teenage kid could afford to get something (anything) that was rear-wheel-drive 2-door with a V8. It’s rather sad that the heyday of cheap, fast, used cars passed long ago.
My own personal triumph of this nature was pulling up to a stoplight late at night in a ’94 six-speed Formula with a Borla ‘competition’ exhaust next to a hydraulically-equipped Geo Tracker. The kid in the Tracker bounced around, alternately raising the four corners of his wildly painted mini-ute as I sat there with my exhaust burbling.
When the light changed, my response to his show was, predictably, dropping the clutch and mashing the throttle in my best Don Garlits impersonation, making immediate forward progress in a cloud of smoke and a roar of good old, wailing push-rod Detroit iron. Needless to say, the Tracker wasn’t able to keep up.
Ah, youth.
In the summer months I drive a base model 6 year old Firebird ragtop 3.8 v6
With the top down it looks very fast [its not]
At least once a week some young fella with decals and a fart can wants to challenge the mighty 6 banger.I remind myself that I`m over 50 so I turn up the PINK FLOYD and watch him launch his rice rocket.It can be very entertaining.I am sure when he tells his buddies the story, my sedate old Firebird turns into a fire breathing TRANS AM but you wouldn`t want the truth to get in the way of a good story would you?
times someone described the face of some clueless a-hole who dared tried to mess with whatever the author’s “badass” car is, after they got “destroyed” in an epic stoplight to stoplight race as “priceless” so far in this thread:
Four
And you guys laugh about those ricers all LOOKING the same. You all sound the same
I really hated this whole storyline. We’ve all done stupid things, but sometimes things go really badly…
I had a cousin I was really close to, get killed by some guys who were racing on a 2 lane road in PA. As they came over a hill, the only was to avoid a collision was for my cousin to drive onto the grass along the roadside, which was apparently wet, and he slid about 150 feet into a bank of trees. Totalled the car, which burned with him in it. We were never sure if he died from the impact or the fire. He was on his way to propose to his girlfriend, and had the ring in his pocket when it happened.
Anyway, sorry to bring things down a bit, but I felt compelled to share the story.
And BTW, to Terry Parkhurst:
The girl in Two Lane Blacktop was Laurie Bird (maybe Byrd).
last night me and my uncle were dirving home from upstate new york we stopped to get something to eat then came out at a light and a bunch of ricers maybe like 3 were stopped at a light one of them looked at our car and started laughing put his crappy stereo as loud as he can and revved the engine the light changed my uncle barely pressed the gas about a 1/2 mile away we turned onto the highway the guy was still about a quarter mile back. i wonder why a ricer would challenge a 911?
Last year, for my birthday, my girlfriend rented me a C6 Corvette ragtop. I pulled up behind a Harley and started revving. The guy in the Harley looked back and started to rev his. I wasn’t really serious about racing (I was behind the guy!) but when the light turned green and he started to pull away, I floored it. No matter how hard I pushed that Vette, I couldn’t keep up.
Moral of the story: Harleys are fast.
I think the author is trying to illustrate part of what we car guys hate about the “ricer” car culture….. the posers
These are the group of kids who throw a few gaudy cosmetic mods, tack on an obnoxious muffler and drive around with a chip on their shoulder. They seem to have no repsect for the history of cars, and regard every other car with some kind of snobbiness.
On the other hand, there is a group of guys who modify imports who really impress me. I’ve talked to a few of them on the street and on the racetrack, usually they are approachable guys doing the same thing guys did with ’32 Fords and ’57 Chevy’s. I have to give credit where its due.
The problem is, the posers tend to cast the real hot rodders in a negative light.
I hate to defend the rice car culture, but you have to ask yourself this (those of you who were around in the 60s): if cosmetic parts were as commonly available then as today, would the muscle cars be sporting such modifications? I say yes.
Nearly every body kit today is made from some sort of polyethylene/plastic or fibreglas. In the 60s, American muscle was made from American steel. Any cosmetic change required grinding, cutting, bending and welding. Today, its a simple matter of glueing, taping or screwing.
The proliferation of aftermarket parts has a lot to do with it as well. It may be an argument of the chicken or the egg, but the fact remains that aftermarket cosmetic parts are widely available for a variety of cars. Many cosmetic parts are now available for American muscle and import classics alike.
I rather enjoy the tasteful cosmetic modifications as they are a credit to the owners creativity, style and taste. However, I still laugh along with the rest of you at the riced-out Civic sporting the 4 foot albatross wing, Folger can muffler, and unpainted, loosely attached, ground effects kit.
Beavis is a blonde and butthead is a brunette. Now you can tell the difference!
ktm,
In the mid-60’s in my hometown, most of the guys with the Detroit muscle cars intentionally kept them very factory stock in appearance. Oh, there were cosmetic changes available…from fender skirts, glass-pack mufflers, mag wheels or baby moon hub caps to painted flames appearing from the fender wells…and there was add-on chrome a-plenty to be had…but these type modifications were considered to be “red neck”. We let the subtleties speak…the small GTO emblem and Ford’s V topped with a 427. The real muscle cars, the GTO’s, 442’s, Dodge Hemi’s (with the “push-button” automatic), etc., were all mostly factory stock in appearance. Locally, the most legendary of them all had to have been one of the very first “Q” cars…a 1965 Ford Galaxie 2 door, base model, no chrome to speak of (looked more like a company issue or grandmother’s car), with a 427 sporting dual Holley 4 barrel carbs and 4-speed manual tranny. The rest of the pack, including the Dodge Hemi’s, were little-league compared to the Galaxie in the quarter mile.
My hometown is not in California or in some overly affluent area, but in Greenville, Mississippi.
That being said, I believe it would be downright amusing to pair any one of the aforementioned, mid-60’s Detroit muscle cars with any one of the current crop of rice-burners complete with ground effects, decals, “fart can” and an over-confident, idiot, shit-head driver. (…did I say that out loud?)
I can’t believe you actually raced a couple of kids in an Accent, and worse yet had the balls to brag about it.
Bet it was a real tough run against The 1.5-liter four-cylinder engine with a rippling 92 horsepower.
Do you race Geo Metros, too?
But the kids deserved it for trying to dress up their econobox, right?
How much faster did those “Rally Stripes” make the Camaro go?
A real man would have let the kids have their fun and looked for some real competition. Where it belongs – on a drag strip, where you’re not going to kill some todddler on his trike while you’re showing off.
But you’re all “Whoa! look at me! I smoked a couple of guys and all I had was three times the displacement! Ain’t I impressive? I proved you can beat out a 92 horsepower car with only 310!
What next, beat up a few first-graders? Intimidate a senior citizen? Pull the wings off a fly?
Next time lets make the race fair – you like a 3:1 ratio – three times 310 is 930HP, a Ferrari FXX is just a little under that. Lets put your Z/28 up against THAT and see how you do.
Oh, and don’t forget your pink slip!