For those who are easily a-fendered, it is suggested that U-turn the page now and re-frame from reading the following story.
IN SEARCH OF THE PERFECT PIECE By Todd
Being a collector, the search for the perfect piece is always elusive. I was cruising in the car when I met a Vet who told me that the piece I seek could be located uptown at one of the local joints. "Wheelie," I asked full of hope? As he points the way down a long block, I throw the car in low and burn rubber. As I split I told him "Keep a cool tool and don't let your meatloaf." I said to myself, "If this nut put me on a bump steer, I'm going to come back and choke him."
I drove downtown and stopped at the red light district. Being a small block, I parked and decided I cam walk. I stopped in at the "Roll Bar" which was first club I came to. The place looked rough so I grabbed my rod and my blade and went in. Once inside I could see that this was a strip joint and I was in for some fast times. The place was loaded and I sawzall kinds of marques. There were fats in the rear and skinnies up front. After I had to wait inline-six minutes, the waitress showed me to a back seat and I ordered De Soto water and a V-8 because I didn’t want to get too trunk. From my rear view I could barely see the staging lights. I slipped the waitress a fin and after a 30-weight she took me to a seat in the front end. I could seal there was from here.
The headliner came out and began belting out a tune while doing the usual grind. I was in shock at the control she had on her pipes as she began to peel out of her bra. Her headlights were huge and I wondered if they were synthetic. Hard tops look great, but I like them with more sway. I couldn't tell weatherstripping or singing was her greater asset.
As she struts over to me she says, "I couldn't help but noticing your hot rod. I bet it's about a quarter mile long and hard as steel." Obviously, I cam to the right place. I couldn't resistor. "I'm your biggest fan," I said to her. I could sensor vibrations. "Big meats like U-turn me on and I'm really into headers," she replied. "I’m going on brake and have got some idle time between shows," she said. I almost blew a head gasket and had pre-ignition right there on the spot. I wanted to Carter off and plug her.
"Let's blow this joint," I sparked up. "In a minute," she replied as she began to cycle around, distributor cards, and collector tips. We hopped in my ride and began to dash off. We were doing 69 when she said to turn at some short block which led down her back alley to her high rise. I pulled to the side of the road, parked under a Christmas tree, and took her top down.
Her body was smoothed and shaved and I began to rubber Bosch and French her. I began to feeler posi and was about to heater box when I noticed she wasn't stainless; there was a Redline of fluid. She whispers into my lobe, "Hey stud, I'm on the rag at Maxflow." Not to be stopped, I assessed my options and pulled a switch. I grabbed my grease and began to pre-luber rear end. I said, "Radio not, here I come." I put my panhard rod against her tail gate and she clutched the arm rest as I put the hammer down and succeeded in a hole shot.
Because my ball-peen-is so large, I only had limited slip as I pumped her greased fitting. She put her knuckle in her mouth to muffler cries. I was ready to cam. I started to injector and was just about to boil over when she squealed, "Hey slick, that Hurst!" She bolted out of the car before I could even wiper off. She cotter pin on the way out and air dam thing torque the upholstery. I tried to spring after her but my reaction time was slow and the winch was too quick. I was sorry that she made a get away because I was hoping for some Goodrich T/A and rally dent mean to spoiler fun or put a dampener on the evening.
I began the drive back to town solo. I had a cross member and Firestones and couldn’t Prolong the inevitable; my petcock was aching and I needed a screw badly. Then I noticed that the tank was low. Because the needle was on "E," I couldn't pass gas. I pulled in at the EXXON, the sign of the double cross. I told the attendant that she was a big knocker so he should pump Ethyl. I had to take a leak and really had the runs.
As I was ping, Mallory walked in. I was so taken back that I piston my tow. As she was leaving she asked if I'd like to come-along to the recirculating ball and bumper and her friends. I automatically agreed because at this point I was feeling Thorley and, in a clutch I'd fork just about anything. I was about put my stick away but had to tappet first to get rid of the drip. Four speed, I suggested that we take my car because it has Mopar.
Upon arriving, I started looking for parking in the 'hood. Being a big block, it was no problem. When we got out of the car a man with a spare tire around the middle wearing a rug en-gauged us. "I dash pot," he said," and cam get U-joints or keys or even a line of crank or speed if you want to get really wired." "It's really good smoke," he said. I told him that I could only a-Ford a few of the joints.
He came back and we lit 'em up, took some drags, smoked-um down the quarter, and put on a rear clip before they did a burn out. "Hoosier supplier; you know, the Hedman" I asked? "I'd like to give him a pot metal." "He's the king pin," the man replied. "But if he knew that I was dealing on the side, he'd have me on the carpet and brake A-arm." By now I was really getting the Muncies. I did a few donuts as I scoped out the late model skin mags.
We passed the lumbar and went into the leather and sway'd bar. It was one of those ball joints. I had a few drinks and began to get well oiled as we watched the rockers who never seemed to tire. I saw four-on-the-floor and three-on-the-tree.
Twins approached me. One asked, "Hey Jack, you into kinky stuff?" I asked wire voice had a rasp and she replied, "I have a Raw-chest-sir." I said I usually was a monocoque kind of guy, but would try anything for a thrill. I never had a third member and really wanted to pumpkin. I was actually hoping to try a four-into-one but it made no differential to me as long as I could get bald.
They took me into the back room. "Wheel get your parts straight," one said. As one removed her belly pan the other took off her Speedo seat cover. I noticed the accessories and implements of bondo and one showed me their table asked me for my rack o-pinion. They asked me if I'd like to try the chains that I saw looming in the back. "I'm really into Hooker headers and was hoping to get blown," I replied as one started to put my main shaft Indy hose clamp. I was in about half-shaft and trying to fender off when the other put her Nissan my soft shoulder and began to lifter chassis over my face. As she began to hoist her skirt it became apparent that this lug had nuts and that these were drag queens. I always figured that "parts is parts," and I like to push rod as much as the next guy, but this was ridiculous and no one was going to make a fuel out of me.
As I saw his ball bearing down on my face I saw the other pull out his dip stick. I knew I needed to split fast and looked for the easy-out. As Mallory frees me, I wax one upside the head with my BlackJack and had to deck the other. As I began to tuck and roll out of the rack, I wrenched my back in doing so. Then I had to throw-out one bouncer and throttle the other just to get free. I was wheelie able to Dodge a billet. It was a Triumph, but I was really exhausted.
Well, next thing I know vise grips me and throws me in the tank. It seems those bastards filed a battery charge and framed me. What a drag. Boy, some days they really know how to socket to you.
I was at the station and phoned Holley for money. She cabled me a bailing wire and came down for a pickup. "You really are a Cad," she said. We went to her pad and she tried to console me. "Don’t be so Moroso. I'm going to take care of you until the case is closed," she purred.
Holley was a beauty and of high caliper. She was rich and lean and a real rock crusher to boot. Unlike a lot of my dimmer ladies, she was bright and would never Borla with details. She was sharp as a tach and had a degree. Plus, she was lighter than most. She had a soft top with fantastic knobs. She loved to pressure bushing my face. Maybe it was the engine-ious way in which she would alternator stroke, regulator speed, compressor inner tube, and shifter frame so as not to bore or tire me. Sometimes she would blow my horn but she usually preferred the tunnel ram. I never failed to relay and double-pumper and she could always lift my spirits. I couldn't let this one get away or shine her on and decided to keeper for the duration so I asked if she wanted to get a set of rings.
Having found the perfect piece, it really was a Goodyear.:thumbsup
IN SEARCH OF THE PERFECT PIECE By Todd
Being a collector, the search for the perfect piece is always elusive. I was cruising in the car when I met a Vet who told me that the piece I seek could be located uptown at one of the local joints. "Wheelie," I asked full of hope? As he points the way down a long block, I throw the car in low and burn rubber. As I split I told him "Keep a cool tool and don't let your meatloaf." I said to myself, "If this nut put me on a bump steer, I'm going to come back and choke him."
I drove downtown and stopped at the red light district. Being a small block, I parked and decided I cam walk. I stopped in at the "Roll Bar" which was first club I came to. The place looked rough so I grabbed my rod and my blade and went in. Once inside I could see that this was a strip joint and I was in for some fast times. The place was loaded and I sawzall kinds of marques. There were fats in the rear and skinnies up front. After I had to wait inline-six minutes, the waitress showed me to a back seat and I ordered De Soto water and a V-8 because I didn’t want to get too trunk. From my rear view I could barely see the staging lights. I slipped the waitress a fin and after a 30-weight she took me to a seat in the front end. I could seal there was from here.
The headliner came out and began belting out a tune while doing the usual grind. I was in shock at the control she had on her pipes as she began to peel out of her bra. Her headlights were huge and I wondered if they were synthetic. Hard tops look great, but I like them with more sway. I couldn't tell weatherstripping or singing was her greater asset.
As she struts over to me she says, "I couldn't help but noticing your hot rod. I bet it's about a quarter mile long and hard as steel." Obviously, I cam to the right place. I couldn't resistor. "I'm your biggest fan," I said to her. I could sensor vibrations. "Big meats like U-turn me on and I'm really into headers," she replied. "I’m going on brake and have got some idle time between shows," she said. I almost blew a head gasket and had pre-ignition right there on the spot. I wanted to Carter off and plug her.
"Let's blow this joint," I sparked up. "In a minute," she replied as she began to cycle around, distributor cards, and collector tips. We hopped in my ride and began to dash off. We were doing 69 when she said to turn at some short block which led down her back alley to her high rise. I pulled to the side of the road, parked under a Christmas tree, and took her top down.
Her body was smoothed and shaved and I began to rubber Bosch and French her. I began to feeler posi and was about to heater box when I noticed she wasn't stainless; there was a Redline of fluid. She whispers into my lobe, "Hey stud, I'm on the rag at Maxflow." Not to be stopped, I assessed my options and pulled a switch. I grabbed my grease and began to pre-luber rear end. I said, "Radio not, here I come." I put my panhard rod against her tail gate and she clutched the arm rest as I put the hammer down and succeeded in a hole shot.
Because my ball-peen-is so large, I only had limited slip as I pumped her greased fitting. She put her knuckle in her mouth to muffler cries. I was ready to cam. I started to injector and was just about to boil over when she squealed, "Hey slick, that Hurst!" She bolted out of the car before I could even wiper off. She cotter pin on the way out and air dam thing torque the upholstery. I tried to spring after her but my reaction time was slow and the winch was too quick. I was sorry that she made a get away because I was hoping for some Goodrich T/A and rally dent mean to spoiler fun or put a dampener on the evening.
I began the drive back to town solo. I had a cross member and Firestones and couldn’t Prolong the inevitable; my petcock was aching and I needed a screw badly. Then I noticed that the tank was low. Because the needle was on "E," I couldn't pass gas. I pulled in at the EXXON, the sign of the double cross. I told the attendant that she was a big knocker so he should pump Ethyl. I had to take a leak and really had the runs.
As I was ping, Mallory walked in. I was so taken back that I piston my tow. As she was leaving she asked if I'd like to come-along to the recirculating ball and bumper and her friends. I automatically agreed because at this point I was feeling Thorley and, in a clutch I'd fork just about anything. I was about put my stick away but had to tappet first to get rid of the drip. Four speed, I suggested that we take my car because it has Mopar.
Upon arriving, I started looking for parking in the 'hood. Being a big block, it was no problem. When we got out of the car a man with a spare tire around the middle wearing a rug en-gauged us. "I dash pot," he said," and cam get U-joints or keys or even a line of crank or speed if you want to get really wired." "It's really good smoke," he said. I told him that I could only a-Ford a few of the joints.
He came back and we lit 'em up, took some drags, smoked-um down the quarter, and put on a rear clip before they did a burn out. "Hoosier supplier; you know, the Hedman" I asked? "I'd like to give him a pot metal." "He's the king pin," the man replied. "But if he knew that I was dealing on the side, he'd have me on the carpet and brake A-arm." By now I was really getting the Muncies. I did a few donuts as I scoped out the late model skin mags.
We passed the lumbar and went into the leather and sway'd bar. It was one of those ball joints. I had a few drinks and began to get well oiled as we watched the rockers who never seemed to tire. I saw four-on-the-floor and three-on-the-tree.
Twins approached me. One asked, "Hey Jack, you into kinky stuff?" I asked wire voice had a rasp and she replied, "I have a Raw-chest-sir." I said I usually was a monocoque kind of guy, but would try anything for a thrill. I never had a third member and really wanted to pumpkin. I was actually hoping to try a four-into-one but it made no differential to me as long as I could get bald.
They took me into the back room. "Wheel get your parts straight," one said. As one removed her belly pan the other took off her Speedo seat cover. I noticed the accessories and implements of bondo and one showed me their table asked me for my rack o-pinion. They asked me if I'd like to try the chains that I saw looming in the back. "I'm really into Hooker headers and was hoping to get blown," I replied as one started to put my main shaft Indy hose clamp. I was in about half-shaft and trying to fender off when the other put her Nissan my soft shoulder and began to lifter chassis over my face. As she began to hoist her skirt it became apparent that this lug had nuts and that these were drag queens. I always figured that "parts is parts," and I like to push rod as much as the next guy, but this was ridiculous and no one was going to make a fuel out of me.
As I saw his ball bearing down on my face I saw the other pull out his dip stick. I knew I needed to split fast and looked for the easy-out. As Mallory frees me, I wax one upside the head with my BlackJack and had to deck the other. As I began to tuck and roll out of the rack, I wrenched my back in doing so. Then I had to throw-out one bouncer and throttle the other just to get free. I was wheelie able to Dodge a billet. It was a Triumph, but I was really exhausted.
Well, next thing I know vise grips me and throws me in the tank. It seems those bastards filed a battery charge and framed me. What a drag. Boy, some days they really know how to socket to you.
I was at the station and phoned Holley for money. She cabled me a bailing wire and came down for a pickup. "You really are a Cad," she said. We went to her pad and she tried to console me. "Don’t be so Moroso. I'm going to take care of you until the case is closed," she purred.
Holley was a beauty and of high caliper. She was rich and lean and a real rock crusher to boot. Unlike a lot of my dimmer ladies, she was bright and would never Borla with details. She was sharp as a tach and had a degree. Plus, she was lighter than most. She had a soft top with fantastic knobs. She loved to pressure bushing my face. Maybe it was the engine-ious way in which she would alternator stroke, regulator speed, compressor inner tube, and shifter frame so as not to bore or tire me. Sometimes she would blow my horn but she usually preferred the tunnel ram. I never failed to relay and double-pumper and she could always lift my spirits. I couldn't let this one get away or shine her on and decided to keeper for the duration so I asked if she wanted to get a set of rings.
Having found the perfect piece, it really was a Goodyear.:thumbsup