Anyone ever do anything really out in left field while driving? The most I’ve ever done is drive too fast, but just curious what other tales of driving are out there?
leechboy seems to think that I do alot of strange things whilst driving but he’s just a male. 
I can tell you its awful hard to drive with someone’s head in your lap - you’ve really got to watch out for those tree’s, they just seem to spring up out of nowhere…
Once when I was learning to drive a stick shift I wasn’t paying attention to how fast I was going. One day, somewhere on I-10 just west of New Orleans, I looked down and the needle was near 80! On my dad’s VW Rabbit! And to top things off, Dad was in the passenger seat but never said a word.
Hmmm… Being a young man who LOVES to drive, I have to post something. Most of these I just do to freak out my friends in the car.
-Driving with no hands sometimes, and I dont mean for 1 sec., more like untill my car begins drifting into another lane, which, with proper tire inflation and steering alignment can be quite a long time.
-Make my friends think I’m driving with eyes closed. Actually the left eye, which they cant see, is still somewhat open.
-And the only other good one I was thinking of, related to Jeff Olson’s story, was when I first got my liscence. That day, two crazy things happened.
The first: I had just finished my road test, and was driving home with my mom, and tryed to take a curve at 30 mph while checking out two girls on the sidewalk. I almost ran up on the curb and actually would have hit the girls.
The second: That night, I went to the store with my sis and some friends. It was raining real bad. I could barely see. I was so worried about seeing the lane markings and other cars, I forgot about my speed. That is, until my sis pointed out to me that I was going about 60 in a 35 zone. Oops.
One time late at night out on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere I drove for about a mile straight on the wrong side of the road. It was a flat, straight road with no hills or curves. Add to this the fact that I was going about 70-75 mph.
This doesn’t really count as driving, but after it snowed overnight I’d go find a large, empty parking lot early the next morning (before it was plowed) and spin cookies. Sunday mornings were best for things like this.
My top is either taking my 91 Accord on ahill at 90, and clearing all four…or going from cincinnati to columbus in an hour…mmm…cruise control at 120…
Many years ago, when I was young and foolish, it was pretty common for young foolish guys to head out after the bars closed, and drive around the grounds of the big psychiatric hospital at the edge of town. I had to show off my sporty new car to a buddy, so we were booting along pretty fast when I lost it a little on a curve. I straightened out fine - but not the same direction as the next curve. The car jumped the wrong-side curb, took out the speed-limit sign from behind, and kept going up far enough to almost make it over the sprinkler connection a little farther on.
The car ended up with the drive shaft suspended on the sprinkler pipes about six inches ahead of the rear axle, and the rear wheels just brushing the tips of the grass blades.
It took a tow-truck nearly two hours to get it off - hoist, shove it sideways, let it down on blocks, lather rinse, repeat. And since I worked at the hospital at the time, I got the play-by-play more times than enough.
I loved driving that Rabbit, I had a tendency to go through all four gears so quickly that I’d keep my left hand on the wheel and my right on the shift. I wish there was just a bit more leg room though, even with the seat all the way back I had to drive with my knees against the dash.
Inspired by the beginning of “Twilight Zone: The Movie” when someone turns off his lights at night and drives in complete darkness, I did that on a deserted highway in Nevada while driving around 80. I could only keep it up for about 30 seconds before I got scared and turned the headlights back on.
Once very late at night, or very early, I was taking a nice drive around the deserted city. I was changing from one freeway to another and car came up behind me and started to tailgate.
Now here we are the only two cars around and he wants to ride my tail on this big slow one-lane curve with a posted limit of about 40. So I tap my brakes and he gets closer. So I slowed down to about 8. He gets right up behind me. After we hit the new freeway I don’t speed up and he didn’t move off my ass. So we drove for about two miles like this. The he passed me. As he went by he just shrugged his shoulders at me.
“I swear to god I’m going to pistol-whip the next person who says shenanigans”
“Hey Farva, what’s the name of that restaurant you like, the one with the mozarella sticks and the crazy shit on the wall?”
“You mean Shenanigans?”
“Oooohhh…” (handing him a pistol)
AKA “Stealth driving”.
Even worse, the “Submarine” : repeat the above scenario, but turn on the interior light in the car so that the windshield is mostly showing a mirror image of yourself, with only shadows and faint outlines of what is outside. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why we called that “Submarine”. Oh well.
Also, back many moons ago when I was 14, my friend used to take his dads car in the middle of the night. It was some clunker, an old Datsun 510 wagon. There was this downhill stretch near my house that levelled off for some train tracks, and then went sharply downhill again. Yes, you can probably guess where this is going…You could haul ass down this hill and then when you hit the level and it dropped down again you could get big time air. So, we’d race this old POS car down the hill time after time at 3:30am and see how far we could jump it. In retrospect, it was really stupid. Aside from the beating we put on the car, there was a narrow bridge that crossed a river – only a couple hundred feet from where the car would land, and usually at that point we were going 70MPH and lucky if we even landed straight.
God, that was fun at the time.
God, we should have been killed several different times while trying that. :o
Nuttiest thing I did was when I met my pal Brian Lewis on the road one day. I yelled, “Hey!” He yelled, “Hey!” We chatted (“Where are you going?!?” “To the bank!”), and then he grabbed a piece of paper from his dashboard and tried to hand it to me… from the passenger-side window. He kept straining, and ultimately got into the passenger seat (while driving), and I tried to get as close as I could to his car without actually hitting it, so I could grab this piece of paper.
On top of all this, we were going at about 50 in a 35 zone. In the middle of rush hour. For about a mile straight. I was in an Expedition, and he was in a giant, old limo that weighed at least 3 tons. If there was an accident, it woulda been ugly.
Goddamn, that was fun.
While in high school, I had a 1964 Mercury Comet that had a 428 engine stuffed into the engine bay. With the stock suspension and brakes made for a much lighter engine, the car was a handful to drive.
I had a cousin in the Army at the time and he had just been transferred to the base near our hometown. He called and wanted me and my brother to help him move. After unloading the U-haul truck, my cousin and his friend left in his Dodge Challenger which was powered by a 440 6 pack engine. I followed with my brother in my Comet and my cousin’s wife was last in the U-haul truck. On a country road with very little traffic, my cousin decided to show me what his car had. Of course, I followed. We were both soon going over 100 mph. My cousin was about 100 yards in front of me when I saw his brake lights come on. I immediately started slowing as best I could. The road dipped down and my cousin disappeared from view. About the time I came to the dip, I saw my cousin slide across a busy highway, not hitting anything. I locked up my brakes and I came to a stop about 5 feet past the stop line. Just about then a big tractor trailer rig steamed by missing me by about 3 feet. My cousin ended up in a ditch on the other side of the highway, no damage to his car but in need of a fresh pair of shorts.
I wreck my Comet a few weeks later when I drove through a stop sign because my brother and I were fist fighting while I was driving. I hit a 1957 Cadillac in the drivers side.
Well, first of all, I drive like a maniac anyway. Nobody likes to ride with me.
Once I was driving down Main St. here in Salem, VA, and I had this really cute girl in the passenger seat. We were following some friends to a party. My friend Pat was in front of me in his new Fiat. He loved this car, he had saved forever to get it, he’d only had it a week or so. Meanwhile, back in my car, I’m laying down some of my best bullshit to this girl, and I turned totally sideways in the seat talking to her. I’m not looking at the road at all, and Pat and I are both doing about 65 in a 35. I notice the girl looking a little tense, then she does a double-take, finally she frantically points forward, I turn just in time to see Pat’s rear bumper about ten feet in front of me. Stoplight.
To this day, I don’t know how I missed him. I swerved right without checking the other lane at all. For all I knew, there was another car there, but luckily there wasn’t. I ran the light still at about 60, narrowly missing the cars coming the other way. I should’ve died!
The funny thing is, I remember launching right back into my story like it was no big deal. Pat was pissed later, but I’m twice his size, hehehehe.
Also, on graduation night in HS, I was trying to get back on a main road from this guys driveway in my mom’s front-wheel drive Dodge Omni. It was one of those deals where the driveway drops sharply down from the road, so you kinda see a cross-section of the pavement from the side. We bottomed out, and there we hung, the front wheels in the air, spinning, back wheels doing no good. We had to shake the car to get it down. Luckily threre was no damage. Close one!
I driver’s seat dance–you know wiggle sing and gesture along with the good song that you’ve got turned up to twice the normal volume.
I used to like to drum on the steering wheel with my brush or ink pen until one day I was just pounding along on it and thought “I wonder how much pressure it would take to set off the air bag?”
I would hate to have that happen.
Uh, back in the day, I used to see how far I could drive with my eyes closed.
It was usually after a party, by myself, late at night, on back roads to avoid the coppers.
I know that was not a smart thing to do, I was young and stoopid.
I’m older now, and still stupid, but not as much.
Full-size Crown Vic. station wagon. Girls asleep in the back seat. Best friend driving, getting tired. We switched seats at speed. I climbed over the roof and slid into the drivers seat. Worked fine. The girls were not asleep, saw everything. Broke up with us as soon as we got home.
Hell of a rush.
I was visiting parents’ home from college… My g/f’s roommate informs me that a big chunk of our friends are going skiing… cool I’m in, “mom, can I borrow your car to go skiing… … yeah, I’ll be home by 2am… … thanks”
so we head out, have a great time skiing… and then my g/f’s roommate and I decide to head back…
we hit the roads, and it’s simply a sheet of ice… I probably drove at 20MPH, otherwise the car started to slide… then we hit the highway, which was clear and dry…
so we cruise along with the cruise on at about 75MPH for a while… and my g/f’s roomate/friend falls asleep… ok, time to make up lost time…
I down shift, start running that car through the gears, and end up at about 120 to 130MPH… and I just stayed there, for about and hour.
My friend (my g/f’s roommate was also a close personal friend, so I’m going to use that interchangably) wakes up… “hey bobo, how far from home are we?”
“Oh, about 15 minutes…”
“that’s impossible, we were about 130 miles from home when I fell asleep… and that was only an hour ago… what are you talking about?”
“ummm… do the math, and look at the speedometer.”
“holy crap!!! You do know that you would have gone to jail for those speeds, RIGHT!?!”
"well duh, but I’m slowing down now, and we’re almost home… just chill… "
…
nothing bad happened that whole drive… I just flew and made up for lost time due to ice… ofcourse, now that I’m older and a bit wiser, I know how stupid that was… I’ll never do it again, on the street… but it was fun to see the little needle hit the peg.
A few left-field experiences behind the wheel.
Starting with Driver’s Ed. My best bud Charlie had a very hot Dodge Dart. He already had his license when I was still taking behind-the-wheel. He got a kick out of buzzing me at high speed while I putted along with my driving instructor.
Well, I got my license, and you know there had to be a first-time for getting pulled over. I was driving a friend’s '63 Impala SS in West Texas and the speedometer said 120. I saw a little black dot appear on the horizon in the rearview mirror, and it turned into a State Trooper black and white awfully quickly. He’d only clocked 110. Amazingly enough, although they searched the car, as in extensively - emptied the trunk, pulled the door panels out, etc. - I didn’t get a ticket (Well, I got a warning ticket).
We had a friend Gene, whose terribly thrashed 4 or so months old Road Runner was a reflection of his life. The grill and front bumper departed early in its life, and the hood blew open on the highway and he’d left it in parts unknown. Charlie and Gene got this idea that it’d be cool for Charlie to ride the engine while Gene took it up to 100 on Westheimer (major thoroughfare on the west side of Houston). My job was to signal them when Kirby (major cross street) was clear. This was about 1:00 AM and when they came past me, with Charlie standing in the engine compartment holding his “reins” (a rope tied to the radiator crossmember), 100 mph looked fast from the ground. It was sort of fitting that the light was red when they went through the intersection.
Charlie’s ride had been clocked at 140 mph. Who in the hell gives their 16 year old a car that will do 140 mph? Anyway, it was our practice, when going to the dragstrip, that everybody besides the driver hopped in the trunk (beat the admissions - yes, I know…). One night Charlie and I headed out there and a little way before we got there, we stopped and I hopped in the trunk. Then Charlie got back on the freeway and called it out to me as he warmed her up, “120…130…140!” Yipes! 140 mph is hairy enough on the crowded Gulf Freeway from the passenger seat. And here I am bouncing around in the trunk at 140!
Another weekend and it’s Charlie and me in the trunk of Gene’s Road Runner at Houston Drag Raceway. We get in and it’s an awful long time for Gene to get to the pit parking. We hear him talking to the officials and realize he’s gettin’ weighed and classified, so we keep quiet while he registers to race. When that’s finally over we expect to get out and pit for him.
But no. We rumble around a bit and the engine noises pick up. Gene’s uncorked his headers and the exhaust is getting bad. Charlie’s passed out when I start banging on everything available. Idiot Gene has forgotten all about us and is in the staging lanes, about three back from his first race, when people hear me and make him open the trunk and let us out. Sheesh.
Charlie and I had recently learned about hydroplaning when we found ourselves heading out I-10 in a heavy rain in his mom’s Buick Electra 225. Nice heavy car. We got to talkin’ about it and I said, “At 65 in this stuff, I’d guess we’re on a hydroplane right now!”
Charlie cranks the wheel all the way left. We keep going straight ahead. He cranked the wheel all the way right. We continue ahead. Jaws drop. Maybe you had to be there.
Another Charlie trick was, when crossing a railroad crossing with a train approaching (i.e., going around barriers, if present), cut off the engine and say, “Oh no!” while presently popping the clutch, reigniting and scooting out of the way.
As you may have gathered, I rode co-pilot with Charlie a lot. Well, despite failing to encapture our race “to the finach or I’ll eat my spinach” up I-10, I must say I had my own misadventures as well.
One night I was heading up 610 and changed lanes to take the I-10 cut-off. There was a guy on a bike behind me, but he was more than a thousand feet back. I didn’t “cut him off” in any sense, but he soon made it obvious to me that my choice of the same freeway of which he had desired transverse had caused him to slow his bike enough that he was pissed off.
So he placed himself on my left as soon as we got on I-10. That meant that he kept me in the right lane, which is a forced exit at Wirt Road. I had to exit.
Heh heh. I caught the light at the intersection and was back up on him like stink on shit.
I got an inside lane before he realized I was there. Once he knew, he was determined to keep me from my rounds. As we approached my exit, I put on my turn signal and sped up and slowed down. He matched my every move and was blocking me.
So I hit my horn for an extended bleep, shot him the bird and made a hard right into him. He had a braking experience. I can still see the white smoke coming out from his tires.
So he followed me to my friend’s house. My friend’s not home. So we glare at each other over a thousand yards and it comes to naught.