So, I'm in traffic in the 1996 LeSabre. Guy in front of me wants to merge over so he blocks me and the lane I'm in. Once he finally gets in the lane in front of me is clear.
OK - OK I shouldn't have been zipping past a line of cars in rush hour, forgive me.
Anyway, I go about half throttle when behind me I hear Uncle Ben (rice) tach it up and dump the clutch so I instinctively put my foot to the floor. Little Civic boy could simply not keep up even after winding up his engine the way he did. I was embarrassed for him. I mean a light weight two door "sport" type car had no chance against a tired (150,000 miles) four door sedan. I was never behind him, but I could hear the exhaust tip yelling JUAN VALDEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
OK - OK I shouldn't have been zipping past a line of cars in rush hour, forgive me.
Anyway, I go about half throttle when behind me I hear Uncle Ben (rice) tach it up and dump the clutch so I instinctively put my foot to the floor. Little Civic boy could simply not keep up even after winding up his engine the way he did. I was embarrassed for him. I mean a light weight two door "sport" type car had no chance against a tired (150,000 miles) four door sedan. I was never behind him, but I could hear the exhaust tip yelling JUAN VALDEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
