So on Thursday night I bought a radio controlled 1/8th scale nitro powered buggy. I decided Merry Christmas to me. Here is a review on it.....
Friday brought the snow, so no buggy action was to be found. Saturday, a little different story. The street had some patches of snow and ice but lots of dry spots. Of course I convinced myself that thereís no better time then the present to break in my new toy. I did have the foresight to buy a set of street tires and rims so I could terrorize the neighborhood and not wreck my dirt tires though. After some frustration brought on by myself and my inane ability to not read directions I flooded the engine. After some heeing and hawing, I got the engine fired up. Everything went smooth and I ran 2 1/2 tanks at idle untill it was broken in enough to play.
Now it was time to hit the street and burn some rubber. I had the carb set rich so it's wasn't super fast, around 25mph or so for top speed. I was running it around at different speeds, getting used to how it handles. I used to race 1/10th scale electrics so steering wasn't a problem. I drove it around for 10 minutes or so, ripping up and down the street. I was trying to avoid the snow but it would hit little patches here and there, but nothing car damaging. I then proceeded to spin it out in a rather large patch across the cul de sac. The car ended up facing the curb, about 2 feet from it. It then started to roll forward, me thinking "oh, it's gonna roll up on the sidewalk" because the curbs in my neighborhood are the angled kind, found in most of Surburbia. My newfound source of fun then proceeded to vanish, Keyser Soze style, right before my eyes. I started looking around for David Copperfield or some hidden cameras, but it was just me and my R/C radio in hand. Uh oh. I've always been amazed at how fast many, many different thoughts can go through your head.
As I took the first slow-motion step towards the site of snowy nothing I heard a loud droning sound. Wait, I recognized this sound. It was the sound of my expensive new toy, running at full throttle, but it sounded like it was in the sewer. The sewer? No, that can't be right. You mean thereís a sewer drain over there? Yep. I canít say that I forgot that it was there, because I never really took the time to look at the sewer drains in my neighborhood as Iím driving around.
The immediate mental picture was my car, hauling ass down the sewer pipe scattering rats in its wake. I then pictured myself trying to explain to some faceless drone that I need to get into the sewer because Iím a dumbass, and my R/C car went in it and I feel like I shot my eye out. The responses coming from Time Life Judy the drone all have that Charlie Brown "wuhhh wahh wuhhh" sound. I'm trying to think of ways to bribe Judy. My God, desperation is a stinky cologne.
Back to reality, hit the sewer and the car is right there, upside down, just sputtering out. Sweet. I try to reach the car, not sweet. I'm about 1.5 feet short. Some guy driving by in his crappy blue Ford Ranger has seen the entire scene play out. "Your R/C car go in the guttah?", "Um, yeah". "Wow, too bad". While I think about stabbing said driver with my radio antenna, the memory synapses start firing.
Months before I had to purchase a "Gopher". This wonderful item you have no doubt seen on late night TV. It is a 3 foot long ďhandy helper pick up tool that reaches so you donít have toĒ. It has a pistol grip that you squeeze and the suction cups at the end close on each other. Brilliant. Absolutely Brilliant. I mumble a quick prayer to the late night TV gods and 48 seconds later Iím at the sewer again, Gopher in hand. Things start going better at this point because on the first try, I grab the rear tire and pull it up to where I can reach it with the other hand. I put the white-knuckle grip on the tire and pulled it out with no problem. Sweet.
I stood up, car in one hand, Gopher in the other, feeling victorious, just as the crappy blue Ford Ranger drove back by from the other direction. The driver looked at me with his glazed beady eyes, obviously the loss of the chance to verbally oppress me further had dulled his wit, but the sight of my ďguttahĒ car in my hand was enough to render him completely speechless. He then realized he was in a crappy blue Ford Ranger and the toy in my hand was worth more then his life so he drove on without further confrontation. At this point my fingers were pretty numb because the temperature was around 30, so I decided to call it day. The good news is that the car is getting more broken in so it will be ready for warmer days. Like the next day, Sunday. But Sunday brings into the picture a Broncoís half time, higher speeds, and a parked car, but thatís a whole nother story.
Guttah of Death: 0
Me & Baby Jessica: 1