ROTFLMAO!!!!!!
Very, very good, Miles! Way more than we needed to know about what goes on
between you and the Mrs., however, the spanks are classics. This is going
to the SAVE file.
Good writin'
HAPPY DAK YEAR to all!
Please be careful! We want to be able to drive and talk for 2001.....
Ron
00 PB SLT QC 4X2 5.9 46RE 3.92 LSD
For modifications see my DML Profile (URL follows)
http://www.twistedbits.net/WWWProfile/dakota/Kw9pV1EkFeOYY
-----Original Message-----
From: owner-dakota-truck@BUFFNET.NET
[mailto:owner-dakota-truck@BUFFNET.NET]On Behalf Of Miles Harris
Sent: Friday, December 29, 2000 12:07 PM
To: dakota-truck-moderator@twisted.twistedbits.net
Subject: DML: Doing Some Spanking with a 2.5/Happy New Year (bit wordy)
I've read with great interest the assorted spanking stories that have
appeared on this list since I've joined. Being somewhat out of the racing
loop for a number of years, I thought that spanking was something my wife
did to me…. ahh….., I digress.
Anyway, I thought I would like to do some spanking. I wanted to feel the
"thrill of victory" while my opponent felt "the agony of defeat". Of course
having a truck with the stock 2.5L four banger, that some of you have
called anemic, while others have questioned why anyone would buy a 4
cylinder truck, it would be difficult for me to spank anyone., however, I
figured if I choose my opponents wisely I too could feel the thrill of the
race, the joy of victory and regain some of my manhood (as much as possible
considering I've been married almost 30 years).
Regarding the performance of the 2.5. Some of you have been writing about
trying to break into the 13's. Well my 2.5 has…..... 0-60 in 13 seconds.
Yes I know it is not a quarter mile, but 13 seconds is 13 seconds. For my
ego (and this yarn), the hell with the technical details or facts.
With the idea of choosing my opponents so as to insure a victory, me and my
13 second Dak ventured out. I first pulled up to a rice-eater *. I gunned
my truck and nodded at him and he nodded back. The light turned green and I
popped the clutch. My truck took off across the intersection making it to
the other side before the rice-eater got both feet off the curb. I was
feeling good and ready for my next challenge, a couple of punk surfer
types. Again I gave a nod as I gunned the engine. They returned my
challenge with a one finger salute. Once again the light changed and I took
off. Those punks on their skateboards were no match for 120 hp truck. I
spanked them real good. Next came the biker, a tougher race with the same
results. He got a good rolling start and had a length on me before I roared
(as much as a stock exhaust on a 4 cylinder can roar) past him on his 10
speed.
By this time I was feeling pretty cocky. Three races, three spankings.
Maybe I was feeling to confident, because I forgot about taking the little
steps and took one giant step. You could say I flew to close to the sun. I
pulled up alongside a 1958 Corvette. You know the one laden with a little
to much chrome (to much chrome, a phrase not used in the 50's). The top was
down (80 degree southern Cal winter day) and I could see the driver, a
older gray hair man wearing a beret, and his trophy wife/girlfriend with a
short skirt, and a tight low-cut top hugging a large set of perfect
silicone breast (this is California, the silicone breast implant capital of
the world). Maybe the view had clouded my thinking, but after a long few
moments, I looked at the driver and gunned my Silver Dak. For some reason
he was already glaring at me. I smiled back, nodded and gunned the engine
again. He looked at my truck and started to smile. I gunned the motor
again. Now he started laugh. At that moment the light turned green and I
took off. You may not believe this (or this whole story for that matter),
but I actually beat the Vette off the line and across the intersection.
The guy was laughing so hard at my challenge that he wasn't paying
attention to the light. When he did regain his composure he stomped down on
his throttle and, to put it in an expression from my era, he blew my doors
off.
With that dose of reality, my spanking days (brief as they were) are over.
I hope everyone has a safe and Happy New Year.
And stepping up onto my soap box. If you drink don't drive and if you
street race (the real kind), please suspend your activities for the night.
While you may be sober, the guy you are racing may not be, and the guy
approaching the next cross intersection, showing a green light for you, may
be so drunk that all the lights look green to him. Speaking for myself, I
want to see everyone and their Daks come into the real new millennium
unscathed. I'm now stepping off my soapbox.
Miles Harris III
Simi Valley, CA
01 Silver Sport CC, with a can't get out of its own way 2.5L (but gets
21+mpg) 5speed
01 Gold Saturn SC1 (3 door coupe) 1.9L SOC, 4speed auto
*The term rice-eater is not meant as a slander toward any nationality or
ethic group. I had just seen the guy in Panda Express and he was eating a
bowl of rice.
This archive was generated by hypermail 2b29 : Fri Jun 20 2003 - 11:58:09 EDT