Sad part of all this is I may have intentionally left out a couple of the dumber episodes of my ill-spent youth. Those generally take a few beers before I admit to them, even though I am pretty sure the statute of limitations that Wags worries about have long since taken effect.
You're amongst friends here Allen...go ahead and share...we won't tell!
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LOL. you're in luck as I just finished a beer.
Back again in the rodeo days, my good friend and I saw a rodeo at a place we had never heard of before. Basically out about halfway between Maxbass and Newburg. Being somewhat adventurous and looking for new gals to chase, we headed up there on a Friday night because we thought it had a dance as well. It may have been the least exciting place for a rodeo (sorry to all the Newburgers and Maxbassers, but this was circa 1983). Anyway, we found ourselves cruising on in to Newburg to scout the offerings. There were only two cars cruising around that night, one was this little POS Chevy Citation, and the other held three gals that...umm, didn't hold our interest. Nonetheless, we stopped and chatted with the girls only to find out that nothing much happens in that town, and you best also be on the lookout for the local law enforcement. He, by the way, drives a Chevy Citation. LOL, what??? So Dale and I took these gals at their word and decided to head back to the rodeo grounds. I bet we weren't a mile out of town as it was getting dusk out and Dale says he has to pee so bad that if I didn't pull over right then and there he was going to piss in my car. Yep, I pulled right over.
About 45 seconds after he got out and started peeing, I see what sure looked like a Citation exiting town and coming our way. Oh shit, last thing I wanted was a MIP, so I yelled at Dale to get his ass in the car. Once he got in we were heading west and I brilliantly thought "we don't have enough distance between us and the rodeo grounds if he's planning on going there, following us, or ????. So I took a right on the first paved road going north, yep he being about a half-mile behind us, also turned north. You gotta understand, I've never been in this area before but I had a plan for distancing myself from the Po-Po where as I broached the top of a hill and could no longer see the headlights in the rearview mirror, I'd floor it for as long as I could and back off the pedal about when I thought the law going to crest the hill. After a few miles of doing this it dawned on me that I had no idea where I was except that I would likely hit Canada if I kept going north. Yep, after I crest a hill, I took a right and turned off my headlights (it was getting dark quick at this point). Damned if that set of headlights didn't also take a right! Again, not wanting a minor in possession, I floored it down a strange gravel road. Dumb, dumb, dumb for over about the 4th hill the road just T'd. SOB, the Rambler and I went off the T in the road at about 70, and right into a wheat field that a recent rainstorm had created a nice soft landing for us. Kersplash we went and at that point I was only worried about getting stuck, so I floored it again as we desperately sought higher ground. Eventually we came to a stop behind a tree row, and it was then I was defeated, out of the door I crawled in order to take a leak of my own and grab a damn beer. As I sat there cracking a beer, maybe 150 yds from the road, that little damn Citation crested the hill just before the T, stopped at the top of the hill and turned around.
Well Shiite, now we are out in the middle of someone's wheat field with a slough blocking the only way in that I knew. It took us almost an hour to navigate the high ground to the east and find our way onto another gravel road. SOB, that road took us right back into Newburg! We eased our way in and through town and headed out to the rodeo grounds. I kid you not, we just pulled into the rodeo grounds and jumped out of the car when that damn Citation pulled in. We walked like nothing was happening as the guy drove by and sure as hell, it WAS the Sheriff/cop. Thankfully, he was too busy eyeballing us to actually look in the direction of my car. There was wheat straw/mud hanging from the mirrors, bumpers, wheel wells, etc.
I tell you though, that 30-45 ft we were in the air before we hit the slough was an amazing Dukes of Hazard impression. I always felt really bad about the damage done to the crop, but being 16 or 17, I was way more worried about saving my own arse.
Sadly, that's not the only vehicle I've put in the water. I put an old 1970 F100 into Van Hook a couple years later driving straight through a 90 degree hard right. Luckily we had a hundred feet of cable out at the farm, because I needed every damn foot of it to pull that one out.
Like Wags says, Statute of Limitations is good!
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Holy cow, I forgot about a blown tire that damn neared killed me.
I suppose it was 1987 and I had built a car to run at the State Fair's Enduro Race. On the way to Minot the day of the race I was driving my 1965 Ford Galaxy 500. The old Ford had power brakes, but a single cylinder for controlling both the front and rear brakes. We left New Town and somewhere over by about the Makoti area, I noticed the car was overheating and running short on power. Basically I was almost flooring it. So my friend Randy and I pulled over next to a slough to get some water for the radiator, within just a few minutes we had the temp gage back to within the normal range. As I put the car into gear to get back on the road, it...absolutely...woud...not...move! WTF?!?! Oh, and the brake pedal was harder than a virgin's wedding night pecker! Again, WTF? It didn't take long to figure out that the brakes, for whatever reason, were the problem. Being a poor mechanic, I decided to crawl under the car and back off the rear drum brakes. Seemed silly to me back then as well, but I was grasping at straws to get my car back on the road even though Randy's girlfriend had already stopped when she saw us on the side of the road. Anyway, as I laid under the car trying to manually back off the brakes, I noticed the brake drums were actually GLOWING and the little rubber insert you remove to back off the brakes had melted.
After I got the driver's side backed off, I started to slide over to the passenger's side when that tire exploded in my face. Notice how so many of these incidents include impacts to my face? Well, that was actually more of a surprise than painful to the face, but of course when you blow a damn tire...the car also FALLS 5-6 inches. Yep, the shock absorber bracket landed square on my ribs, ouch. If that danm car had fallen another half of an inch, I am sure I would have broken a few ribs. As it were, I just bruised a couple.
Well, the girls ended up giving us a ride to the State Fair and I raced with some pretty sore ribs. Everytime I took a left turn the seatbelts (I had more than one) dug into my sore ribs. That damn Enduro race though was one of the funnest 2 hours I've ever had in a car!
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Oh, the 500's issue was a faulty vacuum boost on the brakes. Strange thing to have go wrong in that fashion.