I had drinks with Pony and Chopper Saturday night. I had the best time ever! I extended an invitation to my friend, Hot Toddy, but he declined because of where he was in the "no smoking" evolution. Toddy expressed some disappointment about not feeling strongly enough to join us. I wished he had but realized once I got there, it was best he hadn't.
You see, the three of us spent the largest part of our evening talking about my Mustang. My beautiful, sexy car. My car is the hottest gawd damn car on the planet. Dare I say...in the whole Universe.
We were discussing the specs on my car. Engine size on my V6 vs. the GT; 4.0 litre vs. the 4.6 litre on the GT, etc. We were discussing horse power differences when Pony started talking about how putting a bigger exhaust on the car would get me more power. Hmmm. Not only would it make it sound throatier but it would give it more power... [insert pop up idea bubbles surrounding my head, one after another].
Then Chopper (or maybe it was Pony, I don't know - I got so sucked into the excitement from the conversation that looking back on it it's all a blur) suggested putting new headers on the car. Like a whirlwind we were planning modifications. For a mere few thousand dollars (which I don't have right now), I could have a car that would equal the power of the GT. [imagine me shuttering from the excitement].
Then Pony said it. He looked at Chopper and said, "Then she could put a Super Charger on the car and...oh yeah.... That's what you'll need next, Aub. A super charger... Then you'd have some serious power."
"Wait" I replied, "Isn't a super charger going to require a new hood. It's that thing that sticks out of the hood. No, no way. I do NOT need a supercharger. I mean seriously...it already looks like a boy car. I slap a super charger on it and...no, no way."
Then Pony gave it to me. "Are you kidding me?! There's nothing hotter than an attractive woman driving a souped up car with a super charger. That would be totally hot." "Yeah," I replied, "just me and my dyke boots driving around in a throaty Mustang with a super charger stickin' outta the hood."
I told them how I wanted to take her to PIR (Portland International Raceway) and time her. I wanted to get my car on a track to really get a feel for her at high speeds and cornering, to really see what she's got. [insert shallow excited breathing and a slight arch of my back as I work through some...excited feelings].
Times like these are when I miss my brothers. We'd all stand around in the driveway hovering over my car (or whatever the flavor of the month was) with the hood up and talk motors and horsepower and performance. Those were some of my fondest memories.
With all the cold weather in the Northwest lately, I haven't been willing to wash my car. When it finally broke out of the teens, I tried to turn my water on and nothing came out of the hose - iced up inside. So yesterday I was going to have lunch with Young Stud (our weekly thing) and wanted the car to look nice. I only washed it for him - it had NOTHING to do with my OCD related to my car. Really.
I'm always excited when I wash my car. It's a thing of beauty and when I'm done with it, I'm always so proud of her. I started on the top of the car then did the windshield and the hood (sans Charger). When I started on the front left fender I got this sinking feeling of shit I have to wash this whole car. But as I ran my soapy, cotton mitt-covered hand across the flared fender that feeling quickly went away.
I've come to learn all of her curves; all of those little places that are easy to miss. I found myself talking to her as I cleaned her. I know it sounds absolutely pathetic, but damn... After I cleaned her, I dried her off with my chamois and then detailed the inside. All I could do was walk around the car with this ear-to-ear grin plastered across my face, looking at her and shaking my head.
My old neighbors P & H came over and were laughing at me. They said what a beautiful car it is and how all they ever see is the ass end driving away - and that I was going to scrub the finish off if I kept washing her so much.
Quite frankly, I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to work and I can't spend two hours of my morning bonding with my steel horse. I suspect it'll be the saddest day ever. But for now, it's just me and her and ideas from Pony and Chopper that made my heart race. Ahhh, a girl can dream.