Forum rules
There are a few things you should know before posting in these forums. If you are a new user, please click here and read carefully. Thanks a lot!
J-Man...Then i suggest you get yourself one..You will not be dissapointed...
Hey Mr. Corpse...Glad to see you have awaken from your sleep of boredom..Thats a hell of a machine you got there, bet you get less than 3 miles to the gallon....Used to own a '70 Trans Am with a stock 455 h.o...Nothing can beat those old Firebirds...Sorry Chevy guys
Speaking of monster engines, a buddy of mine still has an old Hemi Cuda 6-pack sitting in his garage. If he ever decides to run it, it would probably kick the pants of my vette.
What kind of numbers are you running in the 1/4 mile...
Patnude...Bought one of those lever lock from BA and the blade would not lock in the open position. Paid only $50 can. So no great loss...
uh oh.got a bid in on one. on the bright side,i wanted to order a mikov abs from tinys but they were out of stock.so ordered a couple of stilettos instead.todat they emailed me and told me that one of the stilettos had a very weak spring so they were sending it back to italy. but,they had found an abs mikov mixed in with the woodys. ended up getting what i wanted anyway. how cool!the naked one.by the way smoker,i am not a homo.some times i think life might be easier if i was.wouldnt have to deal with those cranky bitches.
Alas, I do not still posess the raging Firebird. It was torn asunder on August 18, 1974, when, after an Aerosmith concert at Westborough Speedway, I was T-boned making a left turn with a greenie arrow on Rte. 9, by an assemblyman's son in a '66 Dart. State troopers calculated his velocity at 107 m.p.h., as the impact pushed my Pontiac, complete with L-60's and traction bars, sideways 122ft., and up over an 11" concrete curb. Of the five young pals within, only I survive to this day. My best young pal died on the smoking pavement in my arms, another rear seater died from freak impact of driveshaft skull crushism, the sweet and harmless Sister Golden Hair gal was being given the last rites as the orderlies fought to apply me to a gurney. I myself, suffered only an abrupt ejection slowed down by face to asphalt friction , and a fractured skull. The front seat passenger flew 67 feet, landed in a tuck and roll with only a two band-aid scratch, only to hang himself in jail a decade later.
However, after escaping from the Worcester hospital, and subsequently being bailed out of the Billerica House of corrections for an abstractly related phony charge, I can, still, to this moment, feel the horsepower and exhilaration of going through the gears leaving posi-track testament to the awe and ecstasy of acceleration. Sometimes, aroung the anniversary of this, my first life's path alertering disaster, I clutch the remaining icon, the Hurst fist formed shifter, and remember a life that was stolen from me by the careless negligence of others. (The driving punk, a politician's son, slid away from the duly proven criminal manslaughter charges, and smirked directly upon me as he sauntered past the attorney table. ) Imagine his suprise when I launched myself upon him, and buried my thumb into his carotid artery area before the baliffs un-pried me. Another 4 seconds on the Wally grudge program, and he'd be soiling himself in his wheelchair to this day.
Sorry to be so personal and morose, but this is a factor in why I am that I am.
I hate being pried off a deserving cretin. [Outdoors the back of the skull repeatedly applied to the curbstone also has a calming effect on those who have earned the attention]. The authorities will view this with a lack of enthusiasm if they observe the festivities. [And give YOU an attitude adjustment rather than the offender].
Mr. Wally.....Sorry to hear of your loss.....I would of waited outside for the SOB, tie him to the grill of an old pickup and ram him into the nearest wall.
Thank you, gentlemen, ( Mr. The Falcon, Mr. Razor54, Mr. Jim D., and Mr. I Miss Vermont,), for your notes of condolences. It was then, in the summer of '74, the peak of my youth 'till that incident, an extremely tough card to be dealt. The cause and effect syndrome ripples outward in ever increasing circles on the surface of my life's waters, and rocks my boat to this day. Aftsight being 20/20 they say, I can now see this spectacle of horror handed to me as a root cause in my wayward ways. Vilification, ostracism, and acres of pointed, hushed glares penetrated even I, the stoic leather jacket jerk. Within this sphere of circumstance, I chose not to accept any of the Ivy League scholarships offered unto me, but decided rather to see the world, living off my own wits. Imagine my suprise when I looked back 28 years later and found myself scarred and tired, now the acceptor of the bludgeon, rather than the administrator of the cudgel.
After the courtroom travesty, which, by the way, I could not even-out in the parking lot like real men of honor will do, as I was escorted to the county line by the bailiff team, the slayer of 5 youths skated free, Lincoln Daddy limo.
However, he is one of the charter members of the Wally Grudge Program, and, as everyone knows, you don't want that in your resume.
Losing friends is always a tuff pill to swallow. I lost 4 friends in 1978 in seperate accidents and another commited suicide. One of them was my best buddie who tagged me with the Bonzo name. He was my best friend and girlfriend swapping partner. Too bad my other friend who accidently pulled the trigger didn't know more about gun safety.
on the bright side,i wanted to order a mikov abs from tinys but they were out of stock.so ordered a couple of stilettos instead.todat they emailed me and told me that one of the stilettos had a very weak spring so they were sending it back to italy. 
ended up getting what i wanted anyway. 
