At last I can post real kill stories now that I am no longer in the V6 Camaro. I recently bought a 2002 WS6 (you can see pics in this thread) and I could not be happier with the stock performance. I had 2 kills my first day, one was serious, the other was more...not serious.
I was driving to Burger King after a meeting and noticed a 1998 GT Mustang with some idiot hanging out (and I mean like, half of his body) the passenger window pull next to me. I look over and realized that it was a couple of my friends; they had seen me pull out of work and followed me. I intrigued them with thoughts of Burger King and we decided to meet up. Low and behold we hit the next red light right next to each other. We exchanged some mean revs and when the light changed we both creeped off the line normally up until about 10 mph, then my friend hit it. I did as well and instantly started pulling up until about 60 when I had a full car and a half. Both cars were stock. Mustang and WS6 were both manuals.
Later that night I was going to Applebees with the gf and we were driving through a known ricer area. I was explaining to her what a ricer was, possible reasons for their absurd behavior (abusive parents, sexual deprivation, homosexuality etc) and how this area was notorious for them when seemingly on command two guys in an 80s Civic hatchback redlined their 4 cylinder motor of destruction past me. After a piece of my soul died, I looked at my gf and said 'See, I told you'. I decided to ignore them, but they kept pacing me so I slowed down. We were going up a bridge, when it crested they were ~10 cars ahead. They were now making as much noise as possible, which sounded like someone filled a paint can with the rusty screws of an old jukebox that played primarily terrible eighties music and then put aforementioned can into one of those paint mixer machines. So it was pretty noisy. I had had enough, so without downshifting out of 4th I quickly make up the large gap and get next to them, throw a mean rev, and leave them with their pants around their ankles. I put approximately a shit-ton of buslengths on them before letting off. They were too ashamed to attempt the flyby, either that or their car broke down and they cursed the ricer gods for not letting them commit the finishing touch of awesomeness known as "THE RICER FLYBY". All my girlfriend could do was laugh and uncontrollably undo my pants. J/k she didn't laugh.
I was driving to Burger King after a meeting and noticed a 1998 GT Mustang with some idiot hanging out (and I mean like, half of his body) the passenger window pull next to me. I look over and realized that it was a couple of my friends; they had seen me pull out of work and followed me. I intrigued them with thoughts of Burger King and we decided to meet up. Low and behold we hit the next red light right next to each other. We exchanged some mean revs and when the light changed we both creeped off the line normally up until about 10 mph, then my friend hit it. I did as well and instantly started pulling up until about 60 when I had a full car and a half. Both cars were stock. Mustang and WS6 were both manuals.
Later that night I was going to Applebees with the gf and we were driving through a known ricer area. I was explaining to her what a ricer was, possible reasons for their absurd behavior (abusive parents, sexual deprivation, homosexuality etc) and how this area was notorious for them when seemingly on command two guys in an 80s Civic hatchback redlined their 4 cylinder motor of destruction past me. After a piece of my soul died, I looked at my gf and said 'See, I told you'. I decided to ignore them, but they kept pacing me so I slowed down. We were going up a bridge, when it crested they were ~10 cars ahead. They were now making as much noise as possible, which sounded like someone filled a paint can with the rusty screws of an old jukebox that played primarily terrible eighties music and then put aforementioned can into one of those paint mixer machines. So it was pretty noisy. I had had enough, so without downshifting out of 4th I quickly make up the large gap and get next to them, throw a mean rev, and leave them with their pants around their ankles. I put approximately a shit-ton of buslengths on them before letting off. They were too ashamed to attempt the flyby, either that or their car broke down and they cursed the ricer gods for not letting them commit the finishing touch of awesomeness known as "THE RICER FLYBY". All my girlfriend could do was laugh and uncontrollably undo my pants. J/k she didn't laugh.
oke:
