Post by
Beancooker »
https://forums.nicoclub.com/beancooker-u42602.html
Fri Oct 03, 2008 7:21 pm
Bought an '86 Chevy Cavalier. Paid $200. Split the cost with my buddy Joey. We stopped at the lumber company on the way home and bought some cutoff wheels. Put a cutoff wheel on my dad's Skilsaw, and cut off the roof. Removed (broke) the glass out, and used quite a few rolls of duct tape so that the edges of the metal wouldn't gash us wide open.
We proceeded to take many cans of fire engine red paint, and paint it bright red. Added a little graffiti, put some gas in it, and took a few laps through town. Generally romped the hell out of the car around town.
Now you have to know about Joey. He has ballz so big they ride shotgun. He was always down for some deadly 4x4 romping, and usually kept the Grim Reaper standing on our porch, although he was hands down the friend that I had the most fun doing dangerous shat with as a kid.
The next morning, grabbed a video camera, and off to the rifle range we went. Now see, the rifle range in Cottonwood AZ is used as a wicked 4x4 track, more than it is used to shoot at. It all started off with some donuts in reverse, then four wheeling it. A little later, it was jump time. That car saw more air than Michael Jordan. There was one point that Joey got it so high up in the air, that I thought it was going to endo. The front bumper was the first thing to hit the ground. We continued this for a few hours, until the Cavalier until it couldn't go anymore.
The car was on it's last leg. We somehow managed to get it to the top of a REALLY steep trail. Parked it sideways at the top. Got out, and with huge smiles on our face, we started to lift the uphill side of the car, and it started to roll. Now when I say this hill was steep, I'm talking about a 45º angle, and at least 250 feet in elevation. The car rolled way too many times to count. There it sat, a few hundred feet from the bottom of the hill, looking like a peeled open crushed Coca Cola can.
We drove my POS truck (which ended up dying the damn near same death) back to my house and called the local scrapyard to pick up the car.
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The truck was an old Datsun. About a month later, we were at the same place trying to 4x4 it. Stupid kids, we drove it to the top of the hill, but none of us had the ballz to drive it down. We put it in neutral, and let it "ghost ride" to the bottom. Right at the bottom of the hill, while rolling backward, the front tire hit a huge pothole, and the wheels cranked hard. Over it went. Only one roll. We put the battery back in, and drove it home. My parents said I had to take it to the salvage yard, since it wasn't safe to drive anymore...
Did we... Hell no. The next morning, we tell Mom and Pop we're on the way to the salvage yard, and off to the rifle range we go. After an afternoon of romping the hell out of it, back to the top of the hill it went. We rolled it the same as the car, but it wasn't nearly as terrific. It only rolled a few times, however the thing fell apart. There were pieces of the truck all over. Our dipsh!t friend Trimbo, grabbed a door and bent on it until it fell off. We proceeded to watch him be an idiot, then went home.
We forgot to call the salvage yard. No biggie, right? Well we had been back out a few weeks later to shoot holes in it, and there were only scraps left. Someone had come and unloaded an arsenal on it. Cool, no need to get the salvage yard to pick it up...
Wrong. A couple of months after that, some bored arse cop found the VIN number, and called my Pop, wanting to know why he had abandoned a vehicle at the rifle range.
I got in a little trouble, and the salvage yard was kind enough to pick up the remnants for us.
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I also had an old POS Buick. That was our "mud boggin" car. There was a mudhole off of Old 279, that was ear 4 feet deep. Some of the baddest 4x4 trucks in our town had gotten stuck in it. Now all these guys hang out there of Friday nights. Usually lined up along the side of the hole, while they all took turns driving through it.
Well, the 'Ole Lark, wasn't about to be bested by a 4x4 with a foot of lift. So while there was a large group hanging out at the hole, and all of them standing around and drinking beers, here we come at about 45 MPH. Straight into the mud hole, blowing about half the mud out of the hole, all over the trucks and people.
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Same POS Buick, after talking shat to Josh? (Gumby) he started to chase us. Through neighborhoods, the game of cat and mouse was in full dangerous effect. I blow a stop sign, and he follows. Only problem, is that I miss a lowered Mazda truck by about 6". Gumby T-boned him. Didn't make any friends that night.
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Took the 'Ole Lark through the alleys around town. It was the night before trash collection day. You would never believe how many cans you can hit with a POS car, and what an unbelievable mess it can make.
We actually were pulled over, because as we headed down an alley, a cop had been called, because of a blue car hitting trash cans. We hadn't done anything for him to see, so he told us that we were out past curfew, and to go home.
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Time to go to Phoenix and make fun of the hookers. The 'Ole Lark never let us down. Now this is near the end of the cars life. It had NO BRAKES. Now when I say no brakes, I am not exaggerating. It took well over a half a mile to stop at 60MPH. So off on our trip we go. Now it's 100 miles to Phoenix from Cottonwood, and there is one hell of a big mountain to travel down on the way.
Joey decides before we go to pick up Brian, and load up his speakers in the backseat. Now Joey collected speakers. Not crappy ones, but the top of the line MTX speakers (back then). So there is a box with an 18" and a few 10" speakers, and three underage kids driving the death trap from hell.
Get to Phoenix, "cruise" Van Buren and bullshat/make fun of the hookers, and head home. We stop on the side of the freeway on the way back, near Black Canyon City. We were up to some illegal activity (which I won't go into detail about) and have to leave in a hurry. I sprint to the car, as do Joey and Brian. I'm in, Joey is in, and I start driving as Brian is getting in. All of a sudden, Brian jumps out and screams like a girl. His foot got caught under the rear tire. Whoops, but the car is going 10 or so, and with no brakes, it either run on a broken foot and jump in, or well, we'll be back when we can...
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Christmas Eve, we're out burning gas in the 'Ole Lark, and haed out toward the rifle range. We decide to stay on pavement, and don't head out there. I pull over, and we're trying to get some slut to tag team us again. Joey says he going to give me a Christmas gift... He gets out of the car, climbs up on the roof, and a few minutes later, I have a steaming pile of shat sitting on the roof. I get kinda pissed, and pull the old "eff this, I'm going home". I throw the car in reverse, and back up. Right into the ditch I go. Rear wheels weren't even close to the ground. Free spinning in the ditch, car resting on bumper and frame.
Somehow we end up meeting up with Trimbo, and he has a Ford Festiva. He thinks it's fast and powerful. Now the Buick has to weigh like 4000 lbs, and is sitting on it's frame. The Festive is probably 1600 lbs, and has a 3 cylinder engine with maybe 80 HP. First thing when Trimbo sees my car, he busts up laughing and pointing. "You have a shat on your roof!!!" We tie a tow strap to his car and to mine, and he starts pulling. Nothing... He puts a few feet of slack in t5he strap, and full throttles it. Didn't move the Buick an inch, but nearly rips off his bumper. I end up calling a tow truck. First thing the tow truck driver asks: "Is that a pile of shat of your car?"