Heheh, I haven’t had the luxury of being stone cold sober for quite a bit of my waking life. Tell us more of the poor decisions you’ve made while sober, we’re not here to judge!
Another poorly related car decision I have made, but this is teenage me totally sober (and heck, the Ranchero decisions a little later were made on nothing stronger than Dr. Pepper):
In the same 82 Escort that I eventually made the New Years Eve Acid Trip in, I had some years before decided to race my friend. He had his 83 Impala, and I had what was then my dad’s daily driver, the 82 Escort. There was an industrial area near our homes that was pretty much deserted on Saturday/Sunday, and it kind of made a nice 3-turn flat racetrack, so we decided to do it there.
At this late date, I’m not sure that we had actually planned a number of laps of this course. But I know that I chased him for two and a third laps. The Impala had every acceleration advantage, but I think the Escort usually had a braking/handling advantage mostly due to it being a lot lighter. On the first turn of the third lap, he ran wide and I got inside of him, and beat him through the corner, then laid into everything that 1.6L CVH had to give. I was actually pulling away from him through that straight to the next corner, but I got really ambitious and just let off the throttle instead of braking, and ran wider than we had on the previous two laps. In the wider course through that turn, there was sand.
So, the Escort caught that sand, and the back end of a front wheel drive car broke loose. So, I’m racing my back end, and the only rational option is to floor the throttle while counter steering and try to beat it. So I floor it and counter steer. But a few moments later, the sand runs out, the back wheels get traction, and I’m up on two wheels at about 50-60MPH while sliding sideways. Since it has a peg-leg differential, the wheel in the air is just spinning now, the engine is just winding out, and I switch from flooring it to having the clutch and brake pedal pegged out. I slide probably about a hundred and fifty or so feet after that, eventually bump the curb at maybe 4-5MPH, feel like I’m almost about to go the rest of the way over for a moment, and then plop down back on four wheels. James later said “I saw the bottom of your car, and I thought I was going to watch you die.” If I had gone all the way over, he probably would have. That Escort didn’t have the strongest roof. I don’t think I told my dad I almost rolled his daily driver for another 15 years. He was able to laugh about it when I did, the car was long in the scrapyard.
Nope, even though I remember doing everything I could do correctly after sliding wasn’t going to save my ass from taking that turn too hard, finding out there was sand there, and ending up on two wheels. It was purely dumb luck that saved me.
Mundane, but I must share it: I don’t even ride a bicycle in a risky manner when tripping. Jeebus, would you do this stuff in an altered state? My driving manners are kind of immaculate in contrast to this when I’m tripping. Sober me is usually a much more risky driver. Don’t race on the street, and don’t race altered, kids.
Young men and cars? Umm-hmm. Just thrill seeking? Yessirree Bob! Success? Yeah, I neither died or had to tell my dad what I did with a car that was not mine, and I had done an incredibly stupid thing. Smart folks call a plumber when they have plumbing problem. There’s no plumber for teenage boredom.
