Brillo's 440 had a six-pack, shift kit, and gears. It was heavy, just like most American muscle back then, but it would winkle the asphault when he jumped on the loud pedal.
My personal automotive rites of passage most often involved ignoring the laws of physics and both my own and my car's limitations while road racing. To wit, charging into sweepers waaaay to hot. Results: 1) flew my '67 Camaro ass-first off a cliff and 2) went airborne after skidding into a dirt berm my '82 X11, rolled 90-degrees, and slammed roof-first into a giant tree. Both times, the cars were write-offs. Both times a buddy was riding shotqun with me, and we both walked away without a single scratch. I guess God really does protect fools! But I figure I used up at least two of my nine lives in those incidents.
:r:
My personal automotive rites of passage most often involved ignoring the laws of physics and both my own and my car's limitations while road racing. To wit, charging into sweepers waaaay to hot. Results: 1) flew my '67 Camaro ass-first off a cliff and 2) went airborne after skidding into a dirt berm my '82 X11, rolled 90-degrees, and slammed roof-first into a giant tree. Both times, the cars were write-offs. Both times a buddy was riding shotqun with me, and we both walked away without a single scratch. I guess God really does protect fools! But I figure I used up at least two of my nine lives in those incidents.
:r: