What is a cam lobe?
A question I was asked tonight. By the hottie who always kicks my ass in pool.
I work on my car. I refuse to take it anywhere to get serviced. Her name is Meghan and she is my baby. Through her and Christin (my long departed Aerostar shaggin' wagon) I have learned a great deal about the mechanical doings of internal comustion engines. I have dropped fuel cells to change a fuel pump, I have torn down and rebuilt the front end of an engine. I know my gaskets from seals, and my coil pack form my distributor. I have never thought that all this knowledge of steel and rubber would ever have any importance aside from me saving $80 an hour in labour.
Until tonight.
I thought I was being pretty nice to the pool girl. We always chit-chat whilst she destroys my appreciation I have for the game. She however brought her sister along with her tonight. And by coincedence, Steve mentioned how rare the 69 Charger was. And by coincedence I mentioned to pool girls sister how rare my car was. Surprisingly she asked me what I drove. After I got the words 1992 Taurus SHO out of her mouth, she gave me this weird wide-eyed shocked look, and I knew the conversation to follow would be nothing short of spectacular. Turns out she worked at Koch selling used cars. I thought that was really crazy until her sister and I started talking about engines. She is not only beautiful and great at pool, but has taught herself over the last four years about many mechanical issues. A girl has never been impressed by by cars powerplant. I own my car purely for narccistic reasons. But she said my engine was beuatiful.
How many women will leave the bar with you too look at an engine?
So we are going to play pool on thursday, and if I have the parts in, she is going to help me rebuild the top end of my engine BECAUSE IT INTERESTS HER!
I am so smitten with her right now.
And as a bonus, she owns a hachi-go (AE-85). I am so going to get her to throw a limited-slip differential in there.
She understands cars. I can't get over it.
And I wish nothing more than it to be thursday when I wake.
I work on my car. I refuse to take it anywhere to get serviced. Her name is Meghan and she is my baby. Through her and Christin (my long departed Aerostar shaggin' wagon) I have learned a great deal about the mechanical doings of internal comustion engines. I have dropped fuel cells to change a fuel pump, I have torn down and rebuilt the front end of an engine. I know my gaskets from seals, and my coil pack form my distributor. I have never thought that all this knowledge of steel and rubber would ever have any importance aside from me saving $80 an hour in labour.
Until tonight.
I thought I was being pretty nice to the pool girl. We always chit-chat whilst she destroys my appreciation I have for the game. She however brought her sister along with her tonight. And by coincedence, Steve mentioned how rare the 69 Charger was. And by coincedence I mentioned to pool girls sister how rare my car was. Surprisingly she asked me what I drove. After I got the words 1992 Taurus SHO out of her mouth, she gave me this weird wide-eyed shocked look, and I knew the conversation to follow would be nothing short of spectacular. Turns out she worked at Koch selling used cars. I thought that was really crazy until her sister and I started talking about engines. She is not only beautiful and great at pool, but has taught herself over the last four years about many mechanical issues. A girl has never been impressed by by cars powerplant. I own my car purely for narccistic reasons. But she said my engine was beuatiful.
How many women will leave the bar with you too look at an engine?
So we are going to play pool on thursday, and if I have the parts in, she is going to help me rebuild the top end of my engine BECAUSE IT INTERESTS HER!
I am so smitten with her right now.
And as a bonus, she owns a hachi-go (AE-85). I am so going to get her to throw a limited-slip differential in there.
She understands cars. I can't get over it.
And I wish nothing more than it to be thursday when I wake.