Friday night, I went to fill up my '91 SE-R with special 94 octane at Sunoco to get ready for the NASA races at Summit Point. This is my roadrace car -- still street legal with catalytic converter and generic muffler, but it has a rollcage, harness, stripped interior, SCCA stickers, numbers, etc. It was named the quietest car that went through tech last weekend at the SCCA drivers' school.
After filling up, I pulled out out of the gas station. Three lanes, middle of Fredneck, Md., Friday night around 9 p.m., and I was in the far-right lane. There was a black 4-door Civic next to me (EX? LX? DX? I have no idea, but it was 4 doors, and wasn't an Si -- probably would run 17s at the drag strip, and of course I've never seen the car around here at an autocross or at Summit Point). I noticed the Civic immediately because he gassed it a little. Riceboy exhaust tip amplified the noise. We pulled up at the next stoplight with about a billion cars in front of us. He had rimz, DC Sports stickers, and of course the grapefruit shooter fart can exhaust.
So I pointed and laughed. Really I did! The passenger-side window rolled down (power windows, I guess), and there were two guys that looked to be high school age. The passenger had this goofy mouth-breather expression that didn't change the whole time.
The driver said, "What are you laughing at?"
I said, "Your exhaust tip."
"My exhaust tip, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, still with a big grin on my face.
There was a pause, and the driver looked over at my car with a tough-guy expression on his face and said, "Number 48, huh? You race that thing?"
I said, "No, I just think the stickers look cool."
No response. The light turned green, and the guy in the Civic punched it with his exhaust noise echoing off all the cars around us. This little demonstration lasted about 2 seconds because he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of him.
I was taking the ramp for 270, and he slowed down to move over a lane and follow me. Like I was going to try and race in a car that stood out like a sore thumb. The Civic stayed behind me for about a mile when I had to take an exit.
Silly riceboy.
After filling up, I pulled out out of the gas station. Three lanes, middle of Fredneck, Md., Friday night around 9 p.m., and I was in the far-right lane. There was a black 4-door Civic next to me (EX? LX? DX? I have no idea, but it was 4 doors, and wasn't an Si -- probably would run 17s at the drag strip, and of course I've never seen the car around here at an autocross or at Summit Point). I noticed the Civic immediately because he gassed it a little. Riceboy exhaust tip amplified the noise. We pulled up at the next stoplight with about a billion cars in front of us. He had rimz, DC Sports stickers, and of course the grapefruit shooter fart can exhaust.
So I pointed and laughed. Really I did! The passenger-side window rolled down (power windows, I guess), and there were two guys that looked to be high school age. The passenger had this goofy mouth-breather expression that didn't change the whole time.
The driver said, "What are you laughing at?"
I said, "Your exhaust tip."
"My exhaust tip, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, still with a big grin on my face.
There was a pause, and the driver looked over at my car with a tough-guy expression on his face and said, "Number 48, huh? You race that thing?"
I said, "No, I just think the stickers look cool."
No response. The light turned green, and the guy in the Civic punched it with his exhaust noise echoing off all the cars around us. This little demonstration lasted about 2 seconds because he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of him.
I was taking the ramp for 270, and he slowed down to move over a lane and follow me. Like I was going to try and race in a car that stood out like a sore thumb. The Civic stayed behind me for about a mile when I had to take an exit.
Silly riceboy.