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mark houghton mark houghton is offline
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Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: Central Washington State
Posts: 3,852
It was a dark and stormy winter night, somewhere in Wyoming at around 8:30 pm. My wife and I were in the midst of a cross-country move from SE Idaho to Chicago, she in my '73 Targa and me in my /69 CJ5. She carried part of the zoo in her rig....two parrots and 3 cats, and me....I carried the two Alaskan Malamutes in the back of the CJ.

There we were, exhausted after only our first day of travel, fighting blowing and drifting snow all the way and only 5 miles from our pre-arranged stop for the night. Then, the road conditions quickly changed as the temperature began to climb. Up ahead, we could see dozens of flashing lights strewn on both sides of the road....emergency vehicles as well as cars which has spun-out and landed in the ditch. I mean, I'm talking slicker'n snot on a door knob here....max speed maybe 20 mph. The Targa did ok, but I'm sure it felt like power steering. The CJ, with it's short wheelbase and tall center of gravity was a bit dicey but doing ok.

With the highway exit and our hotel just minutes away, some young punk Wyomingite dude in a lime green Chevy Impala decided that I was going too damn slow for him, and he decided to pass me in the left lane. Well, no sooner had he got besides me did he begin to lose control of his boat of a car. He hit (gently, I might add) the left rear quarter panel of my CJ, which sent me doing cookies down the road while he ended up nose-first in the ditch. I ended up facing the opposite direction on the shoulder of the road, unscathed. The dogs are saying "cool, daddy-dog, let's do that again" and the wife is yelling across the airwaves on our CB's, babbling something incoherent 'cause she witnessed the whole thing in her rearview mirror.

So, I'm getting my feces reunited when the punk-ass mo'fo that caused this actually had the balls to ask if I would pull him out of the ditch. I used multitudes of expletives that cannot be repeated here and headed out to claim our hotel room. 10 minutes later I'm in a Pizza Hut guzzling my first pitcher of beer and laughing about it.

OK, there's a campfire story for you. Probably not what you had in mind, but oh well....This is kinda like an Alice's Restaurant song, with circles and arrows and color glossy 8x10 photos.
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Mark H. 1987 930, GP White, Wevo shifter, Borla exhaust, stock everything else. The result of a massive Pelicanite good will fire recovery effort. Truely an open book, ready for the slippery slopes to modification.

Last edited by mark houghton; 10-04-2010 at 03:43 PM..
Old 10-04-2010, 03:27 PM
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