I have this neighbor that lives across the street from me. I swear to God, every single day all I hear is that ricey vrooom vrooom coming from his driveway. He just got his turbo installed and I keep asking him if he wants to go to the track someday. He always says yes, but every time I am about to go race, he always has some excuse why he doesn't want to go with me. So tonight, I went to the track, and guess who I see? Him with his ricey Civic complete with the big wing, fart cannon and the flat black paint on the hood. I ask him if he wants to grudge race, and hes like sure. So we stroll into the 4th and 5th lanes (grudge racing lanes), I got my helmet on, and we move up to the water box. He does this very weak burnout in the waterbox, which I can't figure out, since he doesn't even have slicks on. I am thinking this to myself as I drive around the waterbox and do a quick burnout with my heel on the brake pedal and toe on the gas. He takes off at the 2nd yellow, which kind of takes me off guard, and I make it off the 3rd yellow with some slight wheel hop, and as soon as I hit 2nd, I blow right past him. By the time I reach the quarter mile mark, all I see are headlights way back in my rearview mirror. I even had a shitty run 13.8/104 2.23 60 ft, and he has like a 15.3 at 88 mph or something like that. After that, he leaves the racetrack, doesn't even say a word to me, and by the time I get home, his car is parked in the drive with all the lights in the house out. Guess he was kind of upset. My 03 Cobra is BONE STOCK, and I was running like shit tonight.
Flooznie
Flooznie
