wastntim
Enthusiast
At the end of last season, while just learning to drive my Viper, I began to form the conclusion that a new set of tires would be a good idea. As the cold weather began to come in, I began to have more and more trouble getting the tires to stick. With the beginning of spring and some warm weather, my opinion began to swing. I seemed to be getting a decent amount of grip and I was thinking about holding off since the tires only had 3,000 miles on them...until last night.
With a mash of the gas, I took off from the stop sign leaving behind the stupid mother f****er in the pickup truck that had the brainstorm that he was somehow going to race me and nearly sideswipe me in the process.
With a bit more agression than common sense I launched myself into a two second wheel hop which seemed to go as much to the right as it did foward only to illuminate the light pole that I was now hurtling towards. Firing faster than my sparkplugs, my brain conjured up the carnage of each and every wrecked viper. By a mere survival instinct, I turned the wheel and by nothing more than dumb luck, the car turned despite the dirt shoulder and I pulled the next gear. Ten minutes after being home, I found myself back in the garage visually confirming that I did not, in fact, impale my car onto that light pole but did answer that nagging question ... it's time for new tires.
With a mash of the gas, I took off from the stop sign leaving behind the stupid mother f****er in the pickup truck that had the brainstorm that he was somehow going to race me and nearly sideswipe me in the process.
With a bit more agression than common sense I launched myself into a two second wheel hop which seemed to go as much to the right as it did foward only to illuminate the light pole that I was now hurtling towards. Firing faster than my sparkplugs, my brain conjured up the carnage of each and every wrecked viper. By a mere survival instinct, I turned the wheel and by nothing more than dumb luck, the car turned despite the dirt shoulder and I pulled the next gear. Ten minutes after being home, I found myself back in the garage visually confirming that I did not, in fact, impale my car onto that light pole but did answer that nagging question ... it's time for new tires.
