Saturday night in Houston, on Westheimer. A ******'s heaven. Everywhere you look, civics like June bugs running around sounding like angry little weed eaters engaging in lilttle racing contests. A few real muscle cars thrown in to the mix for reality's sake but Saturday night belongs to the Icy Hot Stuntaz fans.
So about 12:30 after departing from my girlfriends' house I decide to take a spirited ride around the 610 Loop and drop in on the "free" dragstrip. Or demolition derby, depending on what time it is and how many pre-manhood wanna-be thugs decide to roll around.
So after riding around for a bit, I pull up to a stoplight (which my friend says that should be relpaced with dragstrip chrismas trees we get a show that invoked an incredible train-wreck syndrome effect. Mitsubishi Eclipse (ya know, the new one that looks like a Dodge stealth raped a GT-3000) with brand new tags pulls up. Deja Vu from the commercial strikes as the driver's passenger is doing that same dance while he is blasting the same music from the commerical. Everybody waits the green to watch. HOLY SH1T... I guess the car is for dancing, and not racing... Hot chick too...
Anyway, after the applause it's back to business... Getting close to the Mall area and Hwy 6 is where it's hot and heavy. I pull up to the red and I have a IS 300 to the left, Prelude to the far left and Mark IV Supra to the right. Civic's to the rear. Wings, lights and fart cans in full effect. Rev's are being thrown, and bass is pumping... GREEN! WRX like launches like a fat guy at a free buffet, (5K), and immedately throws me ahead by a few cars. MBC and AEM shorty ram does their jobs, giving me the glory crown for this stoplight confrontation. So I let the others get in front for the next stoplight, and I decide to backseat this next one. A Black BMW M3 pulls to my side, but clearly he was intending to draft the IS 300 and pull for the long haul down the Hwy 6 stretch. Lights go green, and the lawnmowers slide the throttles to the 'rabbit' symbol and spray a few gallons of happy gas. I coast this one through the line, and start my pull at the 2-3 shift.
The Death Star trench run begins as the little X-wings buzz down the 2 mile stetch. Darth Vader's black M3 see's a hole and shoots for it... However you can probally tell by the similes that I am using what the outcome will be.
BMW clips the IS-300's front end on the holeshot. IS-300 loses control and starts a arcing spin. Supra avoids 1 Civic and makes the right ditch dive, over a curb The IS 300 collides with a Civic, hits the curb, flips and dives in the ditch. The other cars spin around like billard balls, collide into each other and either disintigrate or smash into each other and stop. When I saw the first impact I stuck my foot up Scooby's butt and put the ABS to good use.
Bling-bling was laying everywhere. Plastic valances, rims, shattered altezzas, headlights, exhaust systems, biplane wings - it looked as if someone dumped out lego parts all over the street. The guys in the Supra were alright, but the IS 300 was flipped and smoking hard from the rear end.
I pulled 1 guy out from the passenger's side and went to go get the driver, neither was wearing seat-belts. The driver was screaming "who hit my $h!t! who hit my $h!t!" and was kicking all the way out of the car. I should have left this reject to Darwinism, but hey, I'm a nice guy. Idiots were just standing around, looking at the car spew white smoke and reek of gas. One of the Civic's was on fire, but nobody's chromed, gold pull ring neon fire extinguishers seemed to work. "That Sh1T ain't fo' real, yo" was the excuse. The first tow truck on the scene had a traditonal, red one that worked just fine.
Prelude was lain waste. Period. However the BMW was gone. I found out from the IS 300 driver that the M3 got within a hair of hitting the IS 300 but never hit the car. The IS 300 swerved too hard, lost control and caused the chain reaction that brought in the other victims. Total of 6 cars were involved, excluding the BMW, which fled the scene. The 3 Civics were totaled. The drivers were bloodied and gored somewhat because the use of a seatbelt seemed to escape them.
Whatever. The crowd of driftwood was growing and I didn't want to stick around for the swine to be included as a member of the elite street racing pink slip winners.
This is long, but it is a real "kill" story. I don't think that I will be going down there at night again for a long while