Test driving cars you can't afford

I've always loved speeding. When I was younger and riding with my brother, I would ask questions like, "Why don't you pass this car?" or, "Why are you going so slow?" On my first night out after I got my license, I got pulled over for speeding. I became addicted to it, and it escalated over time.

Later, my friends and I began test driving cars that we couldn't afford. We started when I was around 17. We would pick out cars that were way out of our league from the classifieds. I didn't stop until I was about 20 years old. I ended up testing over 60 of them.

On one occasion, we visited an owner of a 1993 Corvette. The owner was on the phone, too faint to attend our test-drive due to a tragedy. He only had enough energy to show us the monster engine under the hood and hand us the keys. After reaching our halfway point, we switched seating positions with Brian now at the helm. We were both desperate to unleash the car’s fury on a straightaway. Brian became over-confident, though. Emitting a whimper like he always did when he knew his death was possible, he downshifted a gear and attempted to pass a line of cars at about 130 miles per hour on a narrow two-lane road. It was too close, though, and we came a hair-length short of blowing into a semi-truck head on. Just in time, he swerved violently towards a car on our right wing. Luckily, our neighboring motorist slowed his car down abruptly, letting us in. So, we barely made it. His whimpers became more and more frequent as we began sliding over the shoulder like a Frisbee and into a ditch. In mid air, we both began yelling in unison, “Ahhhh!” like kamikaze pilots before a crash. As the inertial forces pushed my head into my shoulder, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was being bounced in all directions like a pinball. “No seatbelt,” I thought. When all was said and done, we walked away, or rather, ran away. But we made it home.

We were never sued for the $20,000 car because we were minors, and the district attorney's office lost our files, so we were never prosecuted for fleeing the scene or for reckless driving. Still, Brian stopped coming with me on test drives. He had learned that he was not invincible, but I was still convinced otherwise.

My favorite of all the cars I drove was a 1998 Mercedes SL600 convertible. Its MSRP (manufacturer's suggested retail price) was $125,000 new. It was only slightly used, with around 15,000 miles, so they were asking about $85,000 for it. When I got to the building, the owner's secretary gave me the keys and let me drive away, saying, "Have fun." I was shocked. The car had a 6.0 liter, 389 horsepower (hp) V-12. So, I took it straight to Interstate 25 and topped it out. It had a governor (speed control device) that limited it to 155 MPH. But, you would be shocked at how fast it got there. Without the limiter, it probably would have done 185 MPH (if I can use the 400 hp Ferrari 360 Modena as a guide). It was a heavy car (4455 lbs -- more than a Cadillac DeVille). But, it handled better than all of the cars I drove. It had an electronically-controlled suspension and electronic-stability control (ESC — you know, that skid-control device that the NHTSA plans on making us use even though it can actually make your car plow forward). ESC was considered exotic then, and Mercedes was able to make it work very well — not over-doing it. The speeds I was able to take the car around corners were ridiculous (ca. 100 MPH — seriously).

I pulled up to a traffic light in town, and I looked over and saw two good-looking girls in a car. They waved, and pressed a piece of paper onto their window with their telephone number written on it. I tend to get kind of nervous in those situations and I realized that they would probably have second thoughts if they found out who I really was, so I backed out. I accelerated to 125 MPH, saw a street I wanted to turn onto a little over a block ahead, slammed on the brakes, and made it. It was quite a remarkable machine. After about an hour, I pulled back into the parking lot. The secretary was waiting for me, smiling with a walkie-talkie. When I got out, I tried not to wobble, as the inertial forces tend to make you very disoriented after such rides.

In a future post I will relate how my driving later caught up with me and made my life miserable.

Another story

I recently posted a story to Uncyclopedia and, unlike previous articles, it was deleted almost immediately. The editor who deleted it said that it wasn't funny. Humor is of course not the same as value in general, so, I figured that I should post it here and ask readers whether they think it is funny or whether they think it has value. Feel free to write what you really think.

3par ♫♩I got my lay-day-bay. In to my freedom. Lay-day-bay.♫♩ This isn't a map to the future, but to the present. I've got a present for you: it's called frankness. Only at my end will you see why. I am trying to be this way, billboard buds. These people bring actions to an end. They answer questions for ME. They tell me why I'm here. Why we can't communicate. And why this room is misty. I’ve been down that road before! Boca edition. I mean, my professor was giving a lecture, but then he suddenly turned around and began chewing him out, bro! Seduction is a myth, bro! "Huh, Loader?" (Loader is the name of my dog.) He's still not exactly pretender-face, but still pretty good! WORDS SUCK. Look, can they even BE French? For example, Jean walked up to a counter and began talking to the clerk in French. She acted surprised, and turned partly around, stuttering, "I'm -- sorry -- I don't," but he kept talking, getting louder, and acting angry. He then grabbed her, raising his fist and inhaling in anger. He then understood his mistake, turning away and touching his temple. And when we fought the last war with Asia, we almost lost. They built a canal that almost reached our capital, and we lost the war in our hearts. But we defeated them. “We don’t want to destroy things,” said our president. “We just want to win the war.” This frankness f women is more than mis before. The House of All I am going to represent something to you, bud. And let go of my hand, Loader. Goodbye everyone. Goodbye blue skies, empty streets, and open doors. //< < //goodbye// > >// November, November. Where is November? November yes, November no. Exist yes, exist no.