Doc.
Enthusiast
What\'s up with todays youth
Okay, so I have my GTS on the trailer and I'm on my way to the track for a little spirited driving. The little dash light comes on and tells me I'll be walking if I don't get some gas soon, and I really need to use the facilities so I pull into the local ****** mart. After I fill'er up, I go inside to get an RC Cola and a Moon Pie and to pay for the gas. The young man behind the counter looks vaguely familiar to me as he looks just like the guy in the before picture of the pimple cream ad in my last issue of Hot ROD magazine.
Any-way as I start to pay he says to me. "I really like your Camaro, how much did it cost?" My first thought was to throttle him and take all his skittles but I resisted the temptation to violence. As a health care professional, I seized the opportunity to help out this poor misguided youth and I invited him to a burger and fries during his break. He was reluctant at first, but he relented when I told him that french fries are actually a little known cure for acne.
I told him that my car was a Viper and that I never discuss car prices with strangers. I also told him that when I was his age I could identify any American
car on the road from a mile away. I waxed reminiscent about the good old days
when shade tree mechanics actually worked in the shade and all Hondas had two wheels. I spoke of how cubic inches once ruled the roads and that blowers were used for drying hair and the only Turbo I knew of was my mothers new Maytag.
I talked for what seemed like hours until the sun was slowly setting in the western sky. As I left, He thanked my for my time and he promised to visit the library at least once a week and look at old car magazines in their archives. I know some people would not have taken the time out of their busy schedule to help out a total stranger like this. But I am sleeping a little better tonight knowing that at least one more youth has been set firmly on the path to sports car enlightenment. I hope you will do the same for some poor soul in your Viper travels.
Doc
Okay, so I have my GTS on the trailer and I'm on my way to the track for a little spirited driving. The little dash light comes on and tells me I'll be walking if I don't get some gas soon, and I really need to use the facilities so I pull into the local ****** mart. After I fill'er up, I go inside to get an RC Cola and a Moon Pie and to pay for the gas. The young man behind the counter looks vaguely familiar to me as he looks just like the guy in the before picture of the pimple cream ad in my last issue of Hot ROD magazine.
Any-way as I start to pay he says to me. "I really like your Camaro, how much did it cost?" My first thought was to throttle him and take all his skittles but I resisted the temptation to violence. As a health care professional, I seized the opportunity to help out this poor misguided youth and I invited him to a burger and fries during his break. He was reluctant at first, but he relented when I told him that french fries are actually a little known cure for acne.
I told him that my car was a Viper and that I never discuss car prices with strangers. I also told him that when I was his age I could identify any American
car on the road from a mile away. I waxed reminiscent about the good old days
when shade tree mechanics actually worked in the shade and all Hondas had two wheels. I spoke of how cubic inches once ruled the roads and that blowers were used for drying hair and the only Turbo I knew of was my mothers new Maytag.
I talked for what seemed like hours until the sun was slowly setting in the western sky. As I left, He thanked my for my time and he promised to visit the library at least once a week and look at old car magazines in their archives. I know some people would not have taken the time out of their busy schedule to help out a total stranger like this. But I am sleeping a little better tonight knowing that at least one more youth has been set firmly on the path to sports car enlightenment. I hope you will do the same for some poor soul in your Viper travels.
Doc
