Category Archives: Drive By Shootings

This is the title of a book (the paper thing with words in it, Sarah). That click was one of my Canons (as in camera, not cannon). pictures from my car, or of things driving by.


My Frat Bro Russell

Russell Something-or-other drove aFiero like this. Drive-By Shootings: The Lesser Lights.

Pontiac FieroWe would call it “the Chevette of 1980s mid-engined ‘sports’ cars,” except that it involves Russell the stoner.  We nearly got in a fight with him about his previous car, a Pontiac T1000.  We called it a Chevette by any other name: he was adamant that not only was it NOT merely a re-badged POS, it had “completely different wiring” and components.

Uh, no, sorry.  Go hit that bong again, dude.

So, we’ll just say “Oh look” and be glad this one doesn’t have a JC Whitney vinyl bra like Russell’s.

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missing something?

Too Close To Home

In every sense.

I’m driving the thing that is not a  redRam 1500 with a Hemi and a touchscreen that I REALLY want car to the office. Around the corner, I see a parked Camry with a critical ass implosion. It’s like my neighbors’ kids after one of their constant DR calls.  Plus it’s a Camry: a crash is an improvement.

camry crash

oddly familiar

But I keep driving. Slowly. The debris field around the car is unsettling.  Then I remember.  I know this story.  I lived it.  It’s actually never that far out of mind. Continue reading

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1978 Lincoln Continental Town Car

Those who forget history…

are doomed to repeat it.  Sometimes, so are the people who remember it.

I got my start behind the wheel in a parking lot, at one point with a ginormous floaty Lincoln.  Never on the street – escalation is bad, mmkay?Then more lots, and then finally  on the road with Dad.

So too with my kid.  Kid2 just got a learner’s permit.  Kid 2 has long ago driven a Continental in an empty parking lot.  Today it was more lots and then a couple of cautious forays onto the street.

The big difference?  A stick shift that was not a total fail. Also, a cop.

Oh shit.  A cop.  He was looking at us.  We need to switch places.
Dad, I’ve got my permit. We’re legal.
Sorry.  Force of habit.


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Any particular reason you are driving 56 in a 55, boy?

Eat the Rich: We Called It

About a month ago, we noticed some newspaper attention for a car show we go to every month. Concurrently, the “usual suspects” (whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean) changed the name of this thing from “Cars and Coffee” to “Scottsdale Motorsports Gathering.”  The new name seemed a bit pretentious; the media coverage portended more everything in the following months.

And it happened. Continue reading

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Speaking of things that knock

Heisenberg Chrysler 300

What ever happened to the Heisenberg-mobile?  We last saw it abandoned in the New Mexico desert, after taking a bullet to the gas tank.  But then what?  Yes, it sounded knocky and horrible, running out of gas.  Yes, it’s ORV career was a bit more arduous than most SUVs ever experience (going to Costco).  But still, it had a Hemi.  And it was a great bargain.

The government couldn’t seize it, because it was a lease. Hopefully it got repo’ed, rather than suffer the ignominy of eroding into the wastelands where it was abandoned.  Imagine the street cred if you stumbled onto this while out cooking meth in an RV.  A can of gas and a piece of bazooka to plug the hole in the tank and it’s “look ma, now ‘I’m the danger.’”

Alas poor 300.  We think more likely you’re dead in your tracks, felled by a hail of bullets, then a fusillade of sand and wind and heat and the burning death that is the sun.  R.I.P(s).


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Mud Jeep Liberty

I Wouldn’t Understand

It’s a Jeep thing.  You wouldn’t understand.

And I guess I should, but I just don’t.  I joined the cult of Jeep in 2002.  I bought a “pre-lifted” ’02 Jeep Liberty.  Jeep quickly realized that all that extra clearance and height made them more tippy, so they cut the springs in half made a mid year adjustment to reduce the ride height. The extra height I had (vs. the ex’s 2wd 2003 Liberty) was key.  Hers was a grocery getter; I had dreams of something beyond crawling down dirt roads, afraid of a scratch.  Something more like a Jeep Wrangler. Something like this: Continue reading

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bmw 335i warp

Life Imitates…Life? BMW 3 Series E90/E93

So the other day, I dropped in on 8 Barrel and the missus.

8 has a “new” car, a BMW 3 Series E90.  It is a 335i, which means somewhere between 306 and 335 bhp.  Wifey has an E93 335i – this:


Both are hella fast.  The 4 door is my choice for most purposes, except a drive to the beach.  But this is not a road test.

Somewhere around 1988-90, 8 had a Mustang GT.  When he was shopping, we test drove a new one.  Yes, “we.”  I drove so long, the salesman got pissed, because i was not in any way a buyer – just a hooner.  Eventually, 8 settled on an ’87.  This:

1987 Ford Mustang GT

Actual color photo

I loved that car and that I knew a dude who drove one.  I was no fan of the color, since it didn’t have any* (except a blue rubstrip stripe) but the car was fucking awesome for late ’80s Detroit.

Black, white, silver and grey are not “colors” for flaunty cars.  It’s a fact.

We went all sorts of places in it, and had adventures, great and mundane.  But one constant prevailed.  8 ALWAYS drove. That was fine, being his car and all, but damn, dude.  The one time i get to drive it is at a respectable speed, following you home on your motorcycle?  I don’t think I got out of third gear.

I at least had the sense to turn over my keys to 8 on occasion, mostly so we wouldn’t be killed by me.

So fast forward to the present day.  There are two BMWs.  I am feeling frisky, being as old as the Rolling Stones and Porsche 911s.  8 carries a tinge of guilt for his stoic, probably wise choice of his safety over my lunacy from the Mustang days.  I’m over it, but 8 thinks he should have given me one shot before it got traded in on a Scorpio. [Ed.: Probably because if you predictably totalled the mustang, the deal would be killed and he would have bought an Accord.]

So he tosses me the keys.

Unlike the past, we set down the freshly opened beers.  Unlike the past, I not only have license to drive balls out, 8 is showing me how to reach ludicrous speed even faster.

8: Step one:  do not start in 6th gear.

Lunacy ensues.

2006 Ford Mustang speedometer

Simulated image. Closed course, professional driver. do not attempt. Your mileage may vary.

So there’s a blast up and down a winding tree- and water-lined road.  Coming from Arizona, I don’t even recognize what those things are, but they seem nice and soft.  Much more so than the people who are yelling at us to “slow the fuck down,” like we’re hooning an Opel.

Mustang DaytonaThen it’s convertible time.  I think it’s been 20+ years since the last time i drove one.  The E93 is basically a secretary car with only one a turbo, torque balls and a real live 6-speed manual to counter its softer suspension and inherent effeteness.  I take it much easier on this car due to the ride and the fact that 8′s wife will throw knives if I scratch it.

History has a way of repeating itself.  Iraq:Syria. Notre Dame sucks; Notre Dame still sucks.  And its true here, too.  We’re driving down a two lanes, one way street.  The lady in the Malibu to my right wants to turn left onto the upcoming street.  from that lane.  Without bothering to change lanes or even look in our lane. It’s the best of “Flat out on Westnedge

(shotgun): Oh shit.
Dr. Gonzo: Oh look McDonalds. Mmmmm, cheeseburger.
8: Oh shit!
Dr. Gonzo: Huh? OH SHIT!!!


and the time I totalled a Buick Century, that pulled the same turn across my path move from beside me, with my Marquis(so I planted it on the curb in front of the Osco).  Except the screaming was less this time.  And we stopped short of kicking her ass into the weeds. [Ed.  Because:  knives. ^^]

Then it’s back to the 8 Barrel estate to finally finish those beers before we head to dinner.  But where are the keys? To either car?

Me: WHY IS EVERYBODY LOOKING AT ME?  Oh wait. These keys? How’d those get there?

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fredo wang

Fredo Wang: the StifMeister

Pussy wagon What the hell is the point of “pussy wagon” on the tailgate of this Dodge truck? For the longest time, some Dodge truck trims were called “Power Wagons.”  Then Chrysler started calling their trucks “Dodge Ram.”  A couple years ago, they dropped the “Dodge” in favor of simply “Ram.”  With that history as a backdrop (notwithstanding the whole “ram”/”[just try to] dodge [the] ram” innuendo), what do we think the message is? Continue reading

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