Driving hope one night about midnight, after dropping the father in law off, I was alone at a light, not really paying attention to anything. Reving the engine to creep up to the line, then putting the clutch in to drift back. A corsica pulls up and stops. I didn't even see him, but when the light turned green, I let the clutch out kinda slow, but he stepped on it and squeeled the tires. So he takes off like a bat out of hell, or atleast compared to me. I put the clutch in and hit the gas to get the revs up and send my car after him. By the time we hit the next light (red) I was just about even. At the red, I look over at him and nod. As the light changes, both of us squeel the tires a bit, but I left him behind. He turned at the next lights, maybe too embarassed to be beaten again.
I know the corsica is a heavy car, but I though the 2.7(?)(It wasn't the 3.1) would have been faster.
My first race, but it was fun.
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I know the corsica is a heavy car, but I though the 2.7(?)(It wasn't the 3.1) would have been faster.
My first race, but it was fun.
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