Dan, Co-Pilot Drag Week 06
Drag Week '11 just Me and my Dad in my 53 Chevy, which was his Dads old truck
Drag Week '12 plus one day...Me and Dad in my 53 again....
Drag Week 2013 with my father in law.. New BEST ET/MPH 11.87@112
You are talking about tracks, and I have not even decided on what rear axle to run more or less even have an axle procured yet. Still building chassis and roll cage. Think this might be a 2 week before drag week car this year.
Tom
They're all straight and the same length, what's the difference??
Yep, the "Unknown, Unsponsored, Unmodified, Untuned" Storebought Mustang will look about the same in the fuzzy background at nearly any DW drag strip . . . .
Dadgum! Your DW experience mush have been a lot more "intimate" than mine . . . .
(Mrs. Outsider has an iron-clad rule against that sort of fling)
DUDE.... that's nasty!! My dad rides with me!!! SICKO.
Dan, Co-Pilot Drag Week 06
Drag Week '11 just Me and my Dad in my 53 Chevy, which was his Dads old truck
Drag Week '12 plus one day...Me and Dad in my 53 again....
Drag Week 2013 with my father in law.. New BEST ET/MPH 11.87@112
DUDE.... that's nasty!! My dad rides with me!!! SICKO.
YIKES! My joke wasn't even thinking of something like that!
On the other hand, if one makes a statement about "itch" and "penicillin," a VD joke is plainly foreseeable.
Which reminds me of a film they showed us during high school. A repeated theme of the film, voiced by a somber narrator under film of a ticking stopwatch, was "Every six seconds, someone contracts a venereal disease."
They showed the film to a male-only audience of several hundred guys.
The first time the scene appeared, when the stopwatch hit 12 o'clock, some wiseguy in the darkness, yelled out "OUCH! OH! Laughter cascaded throughout the 1,500-seat auditorium.
The next time the scene appeared, twenty or thirty guys yelled "OW, OH, OUCH!" at 12 o'clock.
Each time the stopwatch scene ran, exponentially more guys yelped in imaginary agony.
By the end of the film, as soon as the stopwatch appeared on screen, hundreds of guys would start yelling in feigned pain, completely drowning out the somber narrator . . . .
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