[Smoking Tires]

short one but here goes


was doing a burnout at the lights in my 80 malibu i had just built, about 350hp. anyways was doing a burnout, and continued on through the light and down aways.. then to see lights in the rear view. i booted it, up to 100k, lost the, turned right at the shell, and shut it off and went into the store


they drove on by a few secs later lights flashing, high speed

never did get me

then one a little before that..... did a burnout and turned left and continued it on for about 400 feet, then all of a sudden to cars swarm me, i shut down and pull over....they come up. and i played the i just built the car and the throttle cable stuck deal... he bought it, ipopped my hood, fixed the return springs a little to make it look like i did something and closed it down, in the end all i got was a VI for the car, cost me 13 bucks cause i worked at the chevy dealership at the time

[smuryof]

I have been reading these wonderful stories, and I can't help myself but tell my tale of introduction to classical Pontiacs, in a car older than I was. It is probably a short story made unnecessarily long, and it doesn't involve much of a cop story, but nevertheless here it is. I loved this car and will never forget it, because it was all I had and it NEVER let me down. Especially when I needed it most - read on...

When I was 18, I was dirt poor. My parents were dirt poor. Most of my friends were dirt poor. My graduation present was an '81 Olds Cutlass Supreme with horrendous blow-by, which lived a short life - died of a siezed engine because my buddy was borrowing it and hadn't checked the oil in 2 weeks.

Desperate for a car to get to work and back, my friend Nick answered the call. His graduation present had been a pristine 1967 Pontiac Ventura, and he also had, in the back field behind the barn, a '70 Catalina for parts, which was more rust than actual car. Lifting the trunk would reveal the gas tank in its entirety, that's how rusty this car was. At one point it had been a sunny shade of yellow. In fact, try to imagine a banana left to rot in the sun for a month, except brown instead of black, and you've got an idea what the car looked like.

Nevertheless, for $50 and a warning to drive it NO LONGER than 3 or 4 weeks while in search of something ROADWORTHY, I had my first taste of classic Pontiac power. For a poor kid without a clue, it was heaven on wheels.

Though the body was aready long past terminal stages of cancer, being reclaimed by nature's own laws of rusty, dusty death, the 400 engine with its incomprehensibly tiny 2bbl carb ran like a hungry rhinoscerous.

So this became my main mode of transportation for no less than four years. I'm 31 now, and no longer dirt poor, but to this day it remains my most memorable vehicle, and I've owned plenty of others. There are many stories revolving around this car, quite a few involving the police, but the most memorable one is this:

I used to chat online. I had met a woman who lived in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I lived at that time in Ferndale, which is by 8 mile in Detroit. Grand Rapids is about 150 miles one-way. Anyhow, I had decided to meet this woman, so I set out on a nice long cruise on I-96 in the Catalina, quarterpanels flapping in the wind. (Yes, they actually flapped. Don't laugh!)

I met up with her and her friends at a local Denny's, and let's just say it's not always best to get to know someone's personality BEFORE meeting them in person, chemistry is important!!! So, ah, err, I was trying to finangle a way out of the whole trip, which involved an overnight stay which I was NOT interested in, folks.

While we were in the restaurant, and I was trying to come up with some lame excuse to leave, it began storming. Hard. Lots of rain, pouring down the Denny's windows in one continuous waterfall of bad visibility. Similarly, I knew it wouldn't be much different in the Pontiac, seeing as how the, aah, wiper motor didn't, err, exactly *work*, per se.

but I did *NOT* want to spend the evening here in GR - for aforementioned reasons - all I wanted was the comfort and security of my home back in Ferndale! I thought at the very least I can sit in the Pontiac and wait this rain out, even if it means sleeping in the car. So I made my lame excuse, snuck around to the back of the Denny's parking lot, and got in, started her up for a little heat, turned on my favorite Nirvana cassette and started dozing off, as usual ignoring the wet rain whipping in from the open right-rear window that had been broken out over a year ago.

I woke abruptly a few minutes later, to the sound of tapping fingers on glass. My friend was looking in at me thru the driver's window, in the pouring rain, saying how she thought I had to go, and was I making excuses or what <insert horror movie music here> - I was clearly NOT safe here! So I rolled down the window an inch, gave her a quick "Sorry, gotta go!" and started backing out, clearly unprepared for how, exactly, I was going to drive on the road when I couldn't even see the hood.

Salvation came in the form of bright brake lights, of one of the other diners pulling out from a spot ahead of mine. I then had the brilliant idea of following these two hazy distorted glowing dots, all I could see thru the windshield, until I knew what else to do! And that I did, which ended up with about five or ten minutes of harrowing, sloshy, Nirvana punctuated, blind driving hell, and me finally parked at a gas station, within the safety of their covered pumps. I took a few moments to catch my breath, fill up the car, and think what to do next or where I could crash safely for the night. Those few moments were one too many, for lo and behold, the Most Possessive Wench in the Midwest came cruising into the same gas station behind me, once again opening her claws to drag me under! <Insert more horror movie music>

No choice now - get in and go before she has a chance to catch me! In the car I go, brain moving fast, the only choice - find someone else to follow. Luckily this gas station was right next to the freeway, and there was a tractor-trailer leaving just as I had to leave, so I got in behind him gambling on the off chance he might be headed down the freeway East towards the good old Motor City and my personal salvation. I was in luck, so off we went.

So here's where the cop comes into the picture. I spent about an hour or so on the road, following the much more distinguished pattern of this semi's taillights, thru the pouring rain at about 50-55mph, when it finally began to let up. Shortly after this, the semi pulled off the freeway, but I thought I was home free. I kept cruising on alone, when the rain started to drizzle, then began in earnest yet again. I didn't trust being able to park properly on the side of the road, and there were no exits in sight. Off in the distance I could see another car's taillights, so I made for it - 2AM, losing visibility fast, pedal to the floor, give me all she's got, let's catch up to that car, get home & just end this nightmare!

I hardly paid attention as the needle climbed, focusing only on what lie ahead, lights off in the distance. I didn't notice the speedometer crest 80, then 90, approaching 100, the old, dirty, neglected and abused 400 thrumming with indefatigable Pontiac power. The euphoria of this, combined with my complete ignorance of physics, led to the most magical experience as the wind whipped the rain off the windshield, providing a miraculously clear view that replaced the blurry mess I had been seeing poking along at 50mph.

It was amazing, and I grasped it in all its glory - the speed, Nirvana blasting for all it could thru the (then) 24-year-old speakers, the sudden miraculous clarity of vision - I began to experience glimmering lights as the magic took hold. Brilliant red light shining and sparkling on me -

The magic faded as I realized that was, in fact, heheheh - a trooper right behind me...

Glancing down to see what I had gotten into, my heart skipped a beat as the needle registered, quite clearly, fully past the 120 mark on the speedometer.

With an audible gulp, I let off the gas and cruised to a stop by the side of the freeway. The policeman approacheth:

Cop: "What in the HELL do you think you were doing? ESPECIALLY in this weather? I had to risk my OWN life to keep up with you!"

Jim: "Uhh... I, aah... I didn't realize...."

Cop: "Oh save the bullsh!t! You kids are all the same. You have no excuse for this, so don't even try."

Jim: "Well, you see, my wiper blades arent working... and... well, it seemed going faster helped."

Cop: <incredulous blank stare, rain streaming down over his cap, flashlight dangling>

Jim: *sheepishly* "I suppose you'll want these..." <fumbling for license, registration, proof of ins.>

Cop: "Why don't you give me the keys too, I can't let you go anywhere in this heap."

During this exchange, the rain had begun to lighten. As he sat in his cruiser, it stopped altogether. Fifteen minutes went by like this. I had no idea what he was doing all that time. Finally he came back to the car.

Cop: "I'm giving you a ticket for doing 15 over, since I can't believe these bald tires would have kept you on the road going any faster than that. Also, I'll have you know I waited 10 minutes for this rain to start up again just so I could refuse your driving this car any further, but it seems to have stopped. Your lucky night. Get out of here, and fix those ^#$% wipers."

No rain the rest of the way home, and I drove that car for another two and a half years. Never did fix the wiper motor.

I eventually had to let go of my own version of Christine as the rust took its toll, causing the back end to sway mercilessly among other serious problems.

If anyone liked this story, maybe I'll also tell the one about the Catalina's abrupt meeting with a jeep on the freeway, driving in a foot of snow, and the police interaction afterward.

I've always missed the car, which is why I've bought another - and it is in my driveway now, in MUCH better shape, and nobody can understand why I'm bothering to restore a 4-door '70 Catalina sedan. Well I do, and that's all that matters.

-Jim

[A455GTO]

You win, awesome story!

Lets hear another, sure beats reading all the redundant political BS in the lobby

[goatmanmitch]

Anyone over thirty in the Erie area remembers cruising the dock, weekends it would be packed and take about a good half hour to make it down and back, maybe three blocks in each direction.
I was about sixteen and cruising in my 70 LeMans, bumper to bumper, two lanes each direction in stop and go traffic. I was talking with some friends on the sidewalk for a moment, and well, being sixteen and kinda stupid you HAVE to burn rubber when you get going. I smoked 'em best I could, stopped to wait in traffic again, few moments later- smack. Felt like someone kissed my back bumper pretty hard, turned around with a look that could kill and ooops- its a cop on a motorcycle who rode down inbetween the line of cars and got my attention by kicking my sidepipe! Took about five to ten minutes to get to a place to pull over and I was sweating bullets the whole time. There was an alley so I pulled in there and then I got a small lecture about peeling out especially when there were so many people around me and with traffic stopped infront of me. Then he starts telling me the dollar amounts for the fines- tailpipe sticking out too far and the fines for the four individual bald tires. Good thing he didn't notice (alley was dark) my inspection was out! Then he said instead of paying those fines, that I should put that money in the car. He then said to drive safely and have a good night. Maybe liked my Pontiac or felt like giving a young kid a break. How cool was that?

[T.Weber]

This was about 1972, I had a 62 Catalina, factory Tri-Power, 4SPD, 3:42 Posi, 8 Lugs, Ventura interior. We used to hang out at the local A&W and race down Brotherhood Way in Daly City Ca. I already made my first cruise through to see what was going on. I noticed a motor cycle cop hidden next to some large bushes just waiting for some poor soul to race by. As I was making my tour through I passed a drop dead georgous 65 GTO white with a black top heading the other direction. If it hadn't been a Pontiac I probably wouldn't even have noticed it. I swung by the local A&W to see who was around and chatted for a few short minutes than headed out for another pass down Brotherhood way, this same 65 Goat races to catch up with me and romps his throttle, I know he saw the cop hiding in the bushes, this bung hole was trying to get me to race past the cop. Well I obliged the idiot, I dropped the Catalina into second gear and clutched it, my tires were going up in smoke but the Catalina wasn't moving very fast due to lack of traction, The guy in the 65 GTO was looking over at me just grinning from ear to ear, we were both actually doing close to the speed limit, we were nearing where the motor cycle cop was parked, I hit the brakes fast and hard, the Goat is now about a car length in front of me as we pass the cop, the motor cycle cop hits the reds and the siren and pulls over the GTO, I went on my merry way. I made the U turn at the stop sign and passed by the cop and the Goat, the guy in the GTO was pointing at me, I'm sure trying to convince the cop that I was the one that was smoking the tires. I believe in do unto others as you would have others do unto you, so I'm guessing that he wanted a ticket for exibition of speed and I obliged him. I headed back to A&W and waited for him to return there, he never showed back up. I wanted to ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, deliberately trying to get someone else to get a ticket. I never got the chance. I probably wouldn't have been so mad if it had been a guy in a Chevy or Mopar or Ford but a fellow Pontiac owner? Hopefully he learned not to jack with other Pontiac owners. Ahh the hard lessons of life.

[mzbk2l]

I think I received around 15 tickets in my first car, a '77 Black and Gold T/A. (Wisconsin, $173 on the spot or go to jail; Illinois, 3 violations @ $50 each, go to the station and pay the first one in person, the rest can be mailed in; Virginia, got out of "Reckless driving by Speed" by going to traffic school; Michigan, got written up about 1/2 the times I got pulled over....)

One day, though, I got pulled over twice in the same day. I was driving home to Michigan from Great Lakes, Illinois, where I was in school in the Navy. (Desert Storm was going on at that time, and a military ID was worth it's weight in gold during a traffic stop!) Along the way, I had stopped at a junk store, and among my purchases was a pair of handcuffs. I'd never had a pair, and I thought they were pretty cool for $9.

About 30 miles inside Michigan, I got pulled over by a state trooper. He said he'd been behind me for about 12 miles, and the only thing that had slowed me down was traffic. He ran the military ID to make sure I wasn't a deserter, then told me to take it easy and let me go.

Later that night, I was headed up I-75 on my way to my cousin's graduation, and I saw a cop facing towards me in a rest area access ramp. I got on the brakes and got slowed down pretty quickly, but he still rolled out to pull me over. I waited until I was sure it was me he was after, then pulled over and stopped pretty promptly. Maybe too promptly, because after examining my military ID, and claiming to hate to write up a sailor, he wrote me up for 70 in a 65 (instead of the 88 he clocked me at). Then he leaned down, looked at me, and said, "I just have to ask; what are the handcuffs for?" I had stopped so fast that they had slid out from under my seat, where I had forgotten them shortly after purchasing them that morning. I must have started to get red or something, because he stood up and said, "Don't worry about it - I've got a girlfriend too!"

[smuryof]

Originally Posted by A455GTO

You win, awesome story!

Lets hear another, sure beats reading all the redundant political BS in the lobby

Hey, thanks! Well I do have another story worth telling, but it requires a bit of context.

I used to go to the City Club in downtown Detroit every weekend, faithfully, as long as I had $3 for the door fee and a quarter tank of gas. I had collected quite a few friends there, and EVERYONE knew my car. Combine the unique style of the '70 Catalina, banana colored, with enough rust holes you could call it Sponge Bob, it was clearly unmistakeable. Plus it was by far the biggest car in the parking lot.

I have to thank Michigan lawmakers for letting me drive my Pontiac. You see, in Michigan, we don't have vehicle inspections. They tried to do that one time, and all of a sudden half the people in the state couldn't drive to work anymore. So that didn't work and they dropped the issue.

So, of course, here I am still driving the Pontiac, two years later, on the tires that had already been slowly rotting away behind Nick's barn (see other post, $50 rustbucket.) Of course, anybody with half their wits would have stayed in this one particular weekend - about two feet of snow on the ground, and even the salt trucks were getting stuck. But, you see, I only had 25% of my wits, not half. So does Jim stay home? Not a chance. I hop in the Catalina, start it up, and off I go, after crashing thru the pile of snow at the foot of the driveway & valiantly sliding into some semblence of tracks in the road.

So I manage to get on the freeway, and here I am, slaloming down highway 10 into Detroit, doing everything I can to keep my car on the road. There's hardly anyone else on the freeway, so I figure I'm pretty safe. Then some lady in a Jeep starts tailgating me, flashes her lights a couple of times, then passes me on the right because I refused to go more than 65 in a 55 zone in 2 feet of snow. Go figure.

So anyhow, I let her by, I back off to about 55, watching her scoot away, fishtailing slightly here and there, showing off, whatever. It occurrs to me that a jeep isn't really ideal for that sort of stuff in the snow, but oh well, I let it go - that is, until I round the next corner and there she is, at a dead stop, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FREEWAY.

Now, keep in mind, I'm in nearly 2 tons of metal, on 4 tires that might as well be freshly waxed skis, and I'm pretty much staring this lady in the face as I approach at a pretty good clip.

It's amazing what one's mind goes thru when there's a clearly unavoidable accident about to happen in a matter of seconds. For those of you that have been in such a situation, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Your mind races a mile a minute, as if you've just bonged a gallon of Starbucks coffee. Well, at least, that's been my experience.

It occurred to me, in that time, that A) the front left fender was aimed directly at her driver's side door, B) that I had little or no traction whatsoever, and conclusively, C) This lady's life was in grave danger.

With approximately four seconds before impact, I did the best I could - I initiated a wipeout of my own, throwing the wheel left, and as the car began to bank a little to the left, whipped it to the right as far as possible, bringing my car into an agonizingly slow drift to the right. This was enough to twist my car in the snow such that the front left corner moved about two feet over to the right, impacting the rear of the jeep instead of crushing the driver's door and her body with it. This particular maneuver worked, but what couldn't be avoided was promptly ripping the jeep in half & sending her directly into the median.

-- The aftermath --

The jeep was careening somewhere off to my left, and for whatever reason, I glanced down at the speedometer out of morbid curiosity. I was still going a good 30mph post-impact. I continued my drift off to the right, correcting as best I could and coming to a stop on the right side of the freeway. My windshield was cracked, my glasses were somewhere on the dashboard, but I was otherwise OK.

I decided to get out and trudge over to her jeep, to see what the damage was. So I got out and began approaching her. The door was off, somewhere in the snow, and she was sort of hanging halfway out, her seatbelt still wrapped across her shoulders. She looked OK for the most part, quite dazed of course, but her forehead was bleeding quite badly, shards of glass all over the seat & floor, and I told her to try to keep my shirt pushed against her forehead & that she was going to be just fine.

Well not long after this the police came, saw me without a shirt on, standing in the snow, helping her hold the makeshift rag to her forehead, and then they took over. I ended up sitting in the back of the cruiser while they asked me a ton of questions. I started to freak out a little, asked if they were taking me off to jail or whatever, when the partner (driver was out handling the situation) said "In all my years of Detroit policework, I almost never see anyone think to act like you did. Going over and helping her like you did. Don't worry about a thing, kid.."

In fact, after the ambulance came and took her away, this guy pulled over to where my car was, dropped me off, and told me to sit in the car while he bent the fender out for me. So I sat, and this man got a 2-foot crowbar out of the back of his cruiser and proceeded to work for a good 5 or 10 minutes in the freezing cold getting the fender bent out enough so I could drive on. What a cool guy.

I didn't realize it then, and wouldn't until the next morning, but the impact with the jeep had thrown the frame back just enough so the harmonic balancer was now rubbing on the bottom crossmember. This led to some problems later on that night - involving lost belts and inner city thugs and acts of desperation on my part - but I'll save that story for later, I've already written a book today. *grin*

-Jim

[Bigg K]

Ok, now being a cop myself, I've had a good laugh at some of these stories. I'll let you guys in on a little secret though, honesty is the best policy. Most times we know the answers to the questions we ask (like how fast do you think you were going?). What happens next depends on what you say. If you insult our intellegence (insert wise remark here) like "I don't know" or "I was doing the speed limit" or "maybe 35" when you were doing 60, expect a ticket. If you tell us, I was just showing off, I am stupid, I just installed my new supercharger etc, you will generally recieve just a warning, a good dressing down and probably a request to look under the hood.

I happen to work in a small, very affluent city where unfortunately all the youngsters drive BMW's, Mercedes or Porshe's. I have pulled over a great many of them on multiple occasions since they inevitably like to show off their cars. Most remember me (I'm 6'7" tall) and try to maintain a friendship with me because I'm tough on them (16-17 year olds driving like maniacs. High powered car, low powered brain).

One night I was finishing up a traffic stop and was about to head over to meet my partner at Fourbucks (because everything costs four bucks!) when a BMW M3 I recognized came blowing by me in the opposite direction followed closely by a Mercedes. Both were doing about 65-70 (in a 25 mph area) and it was obvious that the cars were racing.

My initial reaction was to jump in my black and white and chase after them. Especially the M3, since I knew the kid and had lectured him before about unsafe speed. But I decided that coffee was a greater priority at that moment and besides, they had a huge headstart.

The next night my partner and I were sitting at an outdoor cafe eating dinner when this 17 year old kid walks up sheepishly with a friend and apologizes for racing the night before. Apparently, he was driving by and saw me sitting there and parked his car just to come over and apologize! I was so blown away by this I couldn't even come down on him hard (although I tried). I guess this was the first time it was made clear to me that maybe I was getting through to these kids about the dangers of speeding on local streets (unfortunately I have been to too many fatal accidents involving minors and have made too many death notifications to not try to make a difference). Anyway, my favorite "cop" story....

[smuryof]

Originally Posted by Bigg K

Ok, now being a cop myself, I've had a good laugh at some of these stories. I'll let you guys in on a little secret though, honesty is the best policy. Most times we know the answers to the questions we ask (like how fast do you think you were going?). What happens next depends on what you say. If you insult our intellegence (insert wise remark here) like "I don't know" or "I was doing the speed limit" or "maybe 35" when you were doing 60, expect a ticket. If you tell us, I was just showing off, I am stupid, I just installed my new supercharger etc, you will generally recieve just a warning, a good dressing down and probably a request to look under the hood.

Thanks for the perspective. That pretty much matches the experiences I've had. Unfortunately, I think one or two cops with a power-trip attitude, out of a hundred where the rest are all decent, hard working people, end up ruining people's image of the majority of officers / troopers across the country. It's easy for people to categorize all officials as "just there to give us a hard time." But let me tell you, there have been some situations where I was sure glad to have them around.

I guess someone else in Detroit must have had another old rusty Pontiac, because there was one day I'll never forget. This one's mercifully shorter than my other posts:

I was coming home from a buddy's house in Detroit, as usual rolling thru stop signs, trying not to linger too long in some of the bad neighborhoods, and I had just rolled slowly thru a red light (there were some scary-guys giving me the eye) and had gone a block when out of nowhere a cruiser whipped out from the side street I had just passed and flipped his lights on, bumper pretty much kissing my tail. I pulled over right away.

Loudspeaker: "Get out of the car, and show me your hands!!"

I was freaked; never had to do this before - so I put it in park, shut off the engine, and slowly got out. Held my hands up for him to see.

Then the officer got out of his aging Detroit cruiser, and
approached me, gun drawn! Needless to say, I was scared.

As he approached, the gun sagged a bit, he peered closer at me, took another look at the car, then dropped the gun to his side. Then he apologized and explained to me that they were looking for a badly rusted, "canary yellow" full-size, similar to mine, but the suspect was totally different & this was a case of mistaken identity. Then he slapped the side of the car, told me to try not to go thru red lights, and told me to go home. It's guys like that, putting their life on the line, in hopeless neighborhoods like those, that make me more than willing to pay my taxes.

[OHC6-Man]

Sheesh I wish I had some cool cops in my city. Every cop here is always on a power-trip. They just skip all warnings and go straight to the ticket, which is usually ridiculously high (thank you city lawmakers! not).

But I'll be movin soon and maybe the new town will have good cops.

[dbozmaninbull]

I'm a cop, too. Yes, when we ask you a question, we already know the answer. If you insult our intelligence, you'll get a coupon. If you act like a human being with some respect, you'll generally get the benefit of the doubt ... assuming you weren't doing something totally egregious.

I'm pretty easy on traffic. But if you're doing something that endangers other people -- like street-racing or running red lights -- I have no trouble dropping the hammer on you.

Just a different perspective.
d

[Bigg K]

dbozmaninbull:

"get a coupon?" thats hillarious! Can I use that? I usually tell the violator that I'm giving them a free ticket to go see the courthouse.....I figure it's my civic duty to get the young kids involved.....Bigg K

[badws6]

Wow great stories

Here's mine Way back when my wife and were just married (1981) We bought a 73 charger SE. 400ci auto.as we had just purchased the car and we live in CA, the car was from Illinois, and we had applied for custom plates so we had three registrations in the glove box One night on the way home I sorta got on it a little around a corner left a little rubber on the road ...well maybe more than a little..we were only a few blocks from home and the officer followed me into my apt. complex blocked the car in bliped the siren and turned on the lights ..did I mention that this was around midnight..needless to say the wife was a little miffed ...when the officer came up to the window and asked for the registration my wife fanned all three like playing cards and politley asked the officer which one ..buy now the officer is getting a little tense and askes me to get out of the car...this irritatas my wife who then storms out of the passanger side of the car slams the door and comes up to me demanding the keys so she can go into the house here is where it gets funny the officer is at least 6.6 and my wife is 5.2 in heels (and eighteen at this time) The officer shines his flashlight in her face and says and I quote "Just how old are you little miss" she now in her most venomus voice replies "I am eighteen and married if that is any of your buisness" and turns around and marches into the house. The Officer must have thought I was in enough already and just gave a warning ...With the help of my wife I thought I was going to jail ..and yes 26 years we are still married and still laugh about the "Incident"

[soon2b2ltmp]

I have a few concerning my '72 catalina. Just a short background first, I bought a 1972 base model catalina with the intention of turning it into a replica of the car my dad drove as a Sheriffs deputy in IL. I managed to find a decent one for sale in Delaware and that is where the adventure begins......

I stayed with a police Friend of mine in DE while I got the car roadworthy for a car show the next week and the eventual 775 mile trip home. After I picked up the car from the paint shop (decked out with light bar, red headlights and Dupage County Sheriffs Department markings) and headed back to my buddies house, with my friend in the passenger seat. Mind you in DE it is legal for an antique vehicle to drive with the markings uncovered as long as its used for shows and parades. As we round the corner, this guy looked up, saw the car then freaked an ran.

While working on the car in DE, i managed to discover that someone crossed the 5 and 7 plug wires, and replaced the dying 2 bbl with a 4bbl.

So anyway its time for the trip home. I take off early in the morning after gassing up, and hit the turnpike. I get to the PA turnpike, after coming through the toll booth, I pull over and check to make sure everything is ok because I smell something fishy. Since I didnt find anything I took off, but noticed a PA State Police car sitting there at the toll booth. I made it to the first service plaza because the smell is getting worse and now greenish water is appearing on the windshield. I coast into a parking spot, smoke begins pouring from underneath the hood, and i'm getting horrible pre-ignition after attempting to turn it off (No idiot light). With the hood up I am staring at the engine, when I hear "Everything OK?" I turn around and theres the same State Police car from the tool booth. "I followed you from the toll booth cause I thought you might be having some trouble." I was astounded, and told that the car over heated and I'm just letting it cool down. He pulled off assured that I would be OK. I relaxed waited an hour then added some more coolant and distilled water, then took off. I made 3/4th of the way down the off ramp then the damn idiot light comes on!!!! I made it to an emergency pull off area and called for a tow. Ten Minutes later that same Trooper pulls up and asks if I need help. I told him that I just called for a tow, and we BS'd for a while and then he took off. 30 Minutes after that another trooper stops to see if I'm OK. I made sure when I got home to send in a commendation to the PASP for that trooper.

My next story;

I had a bad speaker and siren box in the car, and I took it over to a buddies house to fix it because he does Emergency Vehicle installs for a living. After I got a new speaker and siren and installed it, my friend and I took his suburban and went to lunch. After coming back and chilling in some lawn chairs I get a frantic cell phone call from mother saying come back to the house something happened, yadda yadda yadda. Here I'm thinking my dad just fell down the damn stairs and is hurt bad or something similar. So I take off with everything uncovered (which isn't illegal in IL, but frowned upon heavily) and head home not breaking the speed limit (gods truth!!) even though making that 400 4bbl roar was very tempting. By the way I'm in Dupage County, and its been said to me that they (the Sheriffs Office) are not pleased that I did the car because it has Dupage county markings. As I am coming to this light there is a Marked DCSO car and an unmarked sitting there talking. The guy in the marked car is staring at me with the jaw dropped. I wave and continue on, they pull out in the other direction, whew bullet dodged, Nothing happened. I get home it turns out to be something trivial. However I found out two weeks later why that deputy stared at me. At a car show I ran into a person who works for the sheriffs department, and told me that 92, the number on my car, is now a Sergeants car!

[a67goatnut]

I got a ticket last weekend for speeding. The gears have been changed in my car so I have to do some math while I'm driving. When I got this ticket I was pacing the rest of the traffic though. I, and everyone else was going about 5 over. 60 in a 55. I was in the left lane of two when I saw this Expedition towing a u-haul trailer quickly approaching. I made the lane change to the right to let her through. When I was changing lanes I noticed this Oregon state trooper going the opposite direction. The speed limit changed in a few houndred yards to a 40 mph. The expedition continued at a clip well above the spped limit. A few hundred yards later we ended up at a traffic signal along side of each other. When the light turned green I noticed the trooper behind me and then he turned his lights on. He pulled me over and ticketed me for going 70 in a 55.

He asked me if I knew how fast I was going and I made the mistake of telling him about my gears and that I felt that I was probably going about 60 along with the rest of the traffic. He was not impressed with my answer...but told me that if I provided proof to the court that I got my speedo corrected that they would drop the speeding offense. There is no mention of this on the ticket so it makes me wonder a bit. My wife was with me as a witness but I'm sure that will not matter much. I just feel that he had to have been locked onto the expedition coming up behind me and that because I was in the GTO that he thought I must have been the culpret. I'm sure that the driver of the expedition was pleased that she did not get pulled over though.

Urghhh!!

[Repoman]

Car: 76 T/A
Town: Princeton, NJ
Time: Saturday morning, 1992

I just rescued the 'Bird from a barn. Cleaned her up, did the brakes/clutch, etc. Driving with fresh plates, but no inspesction sticker yet. Cop pulls me over for it. I'm dead cool, all my paperwork is straight. At the window he asks for my papers, I hand him the pink temp inspection card off the dash we use in NJ, and open the center console for my reg/ins. When I open the console, I see my papers there, but they are under my BROWNING HI-POWER 9MM, sitting butt up. I am looking away from the cop, so I don't know if he is seeing this. I have a second to decide a) put hands on steering wheel and soil self, or b) reach for the gun and get papers trapped underneath.

It feels like an hour passes while I'm staring down, and no yelling, so I move the gun, get the papers, and close the lid. I turn to the cop, and he is obviously clueless, checking out the car.

After that I kept my papers on the visor.

[Bigg K]

Good way to get yourself shot. You don't even have to touch the gun. The officer could have shot you just for reaching towards the console where it was, and it would have been a good shooting as far as the officer is concerned. Not preaching, just want you to be safe (and in one piece!).

[smuryof]

Yeah, I've sometimes considered carrying a gun in my car, especially when I used to live in the nasty parts of Detroit. But I always came to the conclusion that carrying a gun only increased my risk of getting shot, rather than reducing it, so I never did.

I carry a machete under the seat instead *grin*

[OHC6-Man]

Or at least carry the gun in a place the cops can't see haha.

You're one lucky SOB.

[trs13]

My first road trip with my 1969 Firebird when i put the V in was to Indianapolis with some friends. We had just left indy on the way back to Chicago when a pair of Indiana State troopers pull up along side and begin to check out the bird, the one in the passenger seat asks if the car is fast and I said yes. At that they pull in front and put on the lights and take off. I continue at the current 65 mph speed limit. A second later I catch back up to them and they wave me in behind them and take off again this time with me right behind. I rode behind them for the next hour at about 110 mph with their lights going. And when they got off the highway the honked and waved. It was the weirdest thing I had ever seen.

Tom