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Category: hot rods

A Simulation Of Your Commute When The Snow Finally Melts

A Simulation Of Your Commute When The Snow Finally Melts


No, Florida residents, “frost heaves” are not what you get on Saturday morning if you drink too many Banana Daiquiris on Friday night. It’s what you get on your roads at the end of the winter if you live north of the Mason-Dixon line. Some people call it the Waffle House-IHOP line, but the point stands. Every road in the northern part of the country is going to make this race look like the Indianapolis 500 when Spring comes, which should be in mid-July in most places. Luckily, hardworking road crews will be out filling in all the potholes with that fabulous mixture of leftover Olive Garden croutons and discarded eyeshadow they call cold-patch.

Whatever. Hubcaps are for pussies anyway.

[Thanks to Charles Schneider for sending that one along]

A Merlin V-12? Oh, That’ll Fit In A ’55 Chevy. No Prob

A Merlin V-12? Oh, That’ll Fit In A ’55 Chevy. No Prob

If you’ve got a spare Supermarine Spitfire engine lying around, and have unlimited time and money, you too can own a 1955 Chevy Bel Air with a 3000 HP engine rammed into it. It helps if you’re crazy, or Australian, which is a lot the same. But then again, I’m an American, which is like an Australian only with better diction.

Somewhat disappointed that the owner wouldn’t allow the host to let this bad boy off the leash. I wanted to see it take off, or explode, or go supernova, or whatever might happen when that sort of pedal hits that sort of metal. A feller can dream. 

It’s… Beautiful

It’s… Beautiful

Shade tree mechanic. It’s the essence of the Borderline Sociopathic Boy ethos.

I don’t know anything, but I know this kid can move to Havana tomorrow and get along just fine.