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So we decided to head up to Colorado Springs this weekend for a little R&R as they say.
We had a couple choices, the regular car, or the hearse. Pretty much the answer is always "The hearse" whenever I am going anywhere fun. The regular car is fine, gets good gas mileage, but it's too damned small for a guy who is over 6 foot 2 with a mohawk, plus no one really looks cool in a hatchback no matter what.
Soooooo, I knew the engine wasn't doing too well before we left. She's been losing power gradually for the last few months and the distributer is actually stuck so I can't even move the motherfucker to adjust the timing. Pretty much my thought process when it comes to driving hearses is that if there is even like a 9% chance it will make it and not die, I will risk it. Fuck it... I'd rather be dead on the side of the road in a cool ass car than safely at my destination in anything else.
So we were hitting a maximum of about 40 MPH on the uphills, when we started getting what sounded like lifter noise and then a couple of loud ass knocks. It happened pretty quickly, so I pulled to the side and the car died...not good...
Spending some quantity time with my car on the side of I-25...
So we let the car cool down added some oil and spent some more time cranking on it until it restarted and we were on our way again.
It seemed to be doing well until I noticed some shitty exhaust type sounds and Amber asked me what it was...
"I don't know and I don't want to think about it" I told her. I've found that thinking about what's wrong with my car while it's in motion never has had any positive effect on whether it's going to leave me stranded or not, so it's best to just go somewhere else in my mind while it's happening, kind of like prison rape.
Well, we got off on the exit and it started idling like shit and a HUGE wall of white smoke came forward and asphyxiated several other motorists while we waited for the light to change. I advised Amber that the engine would soon be blown, but secretly consoled myself with the knowledge that the death throes of my engine were choking some chode on a scooter.
Quick side note, fuck all you morons driving scooters you bought at Autozone in traffic. If your "Bike" isn't big enough to require a license plate, keep that piece of shit out of traffic you fucking retards. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but every day here in Colorado I see some ass feltcher riding a motorized go-ped style piece of machinery in traffic, going 20 MPH and I want to kill them. Like, as in, if I had a chance to kill only ONE person in the flesh and it was a choice between Hitler and some scooter fuck, I would choose Hitler, but it would be one of those long, hard decisions...the kind where if it appears in a Hollywood movie the person has to think it over by the beach while watching the sun set in order to decide what is really the right decision...
At any rate, we took off and it just started that horrible kind of dying where I knew it was a matter of yards before I wouldn't be moving anymore at all so I whipped it into a 7-11 where I NEARLY made it into a parking space before near total death occurred.
"Do you smoke after sex?" - "I don't know baby, I've never looked to find out!"
While we are sitting there some volunteer fire fighter comes over and asks to take pictures. I figured why the hell not, I'm not going anywhere, so I sit and talk with him for a while before he heads into the store.
So we called Rob to advise him of our non-status and waited for him to get there. After about ten minutes there was a nice loud explosion and what sounded like 10 fire extinguishers going off followed by a nice big pyroplastic wall of doom that pretty much enveloped the entire parking lot.
A warriors death...this was actually fairly dissipated...it took me a minute to even find my camera and get outside of the car, it was that thick for a bit. Had it lasted any longer it would have started attracting Jewish guys in towells who wanted to sit around and try to lose weight in it.
We had a couple choices, the regular car, or the hearse. Pretty much the answer is always "The hearse" whenever I am going anywhere fun. The regular car is fine, gets good gas mileage, but it's too damned small for a guy who is over 6 foot 2 with a mohawk, plus no one really looks cool in a hatchback no matter what.
Soooooo, I knew the engine wasn't doing too well before we left. She's been losing power gradually for the last few months and the distributer is actually stuck so I can't even move the motherfucker to adjust the timing. Pretty much my thought process when it comes to driving hearses is that if there is even like a 9% chance it will make it and not die, I will risk it. Fuck it... I'd rather be dead on the side of the road in a cool ass car than safely at my destination in anything else.
So we were hitting a maximum of about 40 MPH on the uphills, when we started getting what sounded like lifter noise and then a couple of loud ass knocks. It happened pretty quickly, so I pulled to the side and the car died...not good...
Spending some quantity time with my car on the side of I-25...
So we let the car cool down added some oil and spent some more time cranking on it until it restarted and we were on our way again.
It seemed to be doing well until I noticed some shitty exhaust type sounds and Amber asked me what it was...
"I don't know and I don't want to think about it" I told her. I've found that thinking about what's wrong with my car while it's in motion never has had any positive effect on whether it's going to leave me stranded or not, so it's best to just go somewhere else in my mind while it's happening, kind of like prison rape.
Well, we got off on the exit and it started idling like shit and a HUGE wall of white smoke came forward and asphyxiated several other motorists while we waited for the light to change. I advised Amber that the engine would soon be blown, but secretly consoled myself with the knowledge that the death throes of my engine were choking some chode on a scooter.
Quick side note, fuck all you morons driving scooters you bought at Autozone in traffic. If your "Bike" isn't big enough to require a license plate, keep that piece of shit out of traffic you fucking retards. I don't know about the rest of you guys, but every day here in Colorado I see some ass feltcher riding a motorized go-ped style piece of machinery in traffic, going 20 MPH and I want to kill them. Like, as in, if I had a chance to kill only ONE person in the flesh and it was a choice between Hitler and some scooter fuck, I would choose Hitler, but it would be one of those long, hard decisions...the kind where if it appears in a Hollywood movie the person has to think it over by the beach while watching the sun set in order to decide what is really the right decision...
At any rate, we took off and it just started that horrible kind of dying where I knew it was a matter of yards before I wouldn't be moving anymore at all so I whipped it into a 7-11 where I NEARLY made it into a parking space before near total death occurred.
"Do you smoke after sex?" - "I don't know baby, I've never looked to find out!"
While we are sitting there some volunteer fire fighter comes over and asks to take pictures. I figured why the hell not, I'm not going anywhere, so I sit and talk with him for a while before he heads into the store.
So we called Rob to advise him of our non-status and waited for him to get there. After about ten minutes there was a nice loud explosion and what sounded like 10 fire extinguishers going off followed by a nice big pyroplastic wall of doom that pretty much enveloped the entire parking lot.
A warriors death...this was actually fairly dissipated...it took me a minute to even find my camera and get outside of the car, it was that thick for a bit. Had it lasted any longer it would have started attracting Jewish guys in towells who wanted to sit around and try to lose weight in it.
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