Tweet
So once upon a there was a kid dreaming about having his drivers license. Dreaming to be free to roam, without having to ask mom or dad for a ride. Dreaming about the feeling of the road under his feet, the vibration of the motor, and the feeling of control when he laid his hands on the steering wheel.
When the day finally came, I took my test, and passed with only one mistake! Driving too slow (LOLOL so driving 40 in the 50 in a -20 snow storm is a dock off the marks).
Anyways, yada yada, couldn't wait to kick my dad out of the truck and finally go for cruise, just me and my machine.
First things first, grab the sun glasses, ipod, and Macdonalds gift card. Truck in first gear, electric exhaust dumps opening, V8 howling, fattest 4wd drift onto the road ahead.
My beloved first truck:
Before:
After:
And just for the shitz and gigz I did the led glow
Skid forward 6 months. I was the guy in high school known for randomly melting a set of tires off in the parking lot just to see the cloud (I was on my third set of tires by this point). Scaring kids on the side of the road with the exhaust dumps, cruising around with the music cranked, typical teenager driver, but with a much stronger passion for the drive.
Soon, after a very successful summer of ATV racing in Canada and the States, I was on my way to one of the last races of the season in Rimbey Alberta, from Fort St. John. It was about a 6 hour drive, and I could tell something was up with my truck, even before I left. Right before I began my trip, I had talked to the shop that had just replaced my front driveshaft, which was horribly twisted. They mentioned to me that it would be fine until I got back the next week. So while driving, about two hours away from Rimbey, my transfer case exploded, with a mess of ATF and gears flying down the highway with me. I quickly turned on my 4 ways and pulled over. I wanted to get my truck off the highway as quick as possible, so I headed to a nearby ranch and got help from the guy that ultimately saved my life. We got his old farm Jeep out to pull my truck to his driveway, and hopefully just leave it there until the end of the race weekend.
We backed the Jeep up to the truck, pulled the ropes out, hooked up the Jeep first, then went to look for the hooks under my truck (couldn't find them, Dakotas don't have front tow hooks) when the guy (Chris) told me to get out from under my truck, not to stand in-front of the vehicle and pulled me back by my shirt. Just as I had gotten on my feet, the truck was gone.
So was the Jeep, and the truck of the driver that hit me, and the trailer he was towing. Everything flew forward, and a blast of shattered truck pieces hit me in the face... I was stumbling backwards trying not to vomit, ears ringing, no perception of sound. Chris looked at me and said something, then began running towards his ranch to get help. Down the highway was my truck, followed by a trail of leaf spring remnants and chunks of my rim. Then the Jeep, one half torn off, bits of the fiberglass renegade body kit all over the highway. And the most vivid image burnt into my brain... The wheel from the trailer, in the middle of highway twirling until it finally fell flat on the pavement, the haunting 'ticking' of the 4 way flashers was the only thing I could hear.
My first vehicle, destroyed by a drunk driver that nearly killed Chris and I. The explosion of debris is burnt into my retinas, a constant reminder to stay on the grassy side of your vehicle when on the side of a busy highway.
Months later, I ultimately went to court. This guy had denied the breathalyzer, and played the system. Justice was not served. I had never seen my father cry until that moment, it was a strange day.
So after the insurance claim went through (a damn good one at that), I had a made a decision to get my dream car, the Nissan Skyline GTR. Little did I know, that this would be the most significant material possession that I would be emotionally attached to.
And now it begins...
When the day finally came, I took my test, and passed with only one mistake! Driving too slow (LOLOL so driving 40 in the 50 in a -20 snow storm is a dock off the marks).
Anyways, yada yada, couldn't wait to kick my dad out of the truck and finally go for cruise, just me and my machine.
First things first, grab the sun glasses, ipod, and Macdonalds gift card. Truck in first gear, electric exhaust dumps opening, V8 howling, fattest 4wd drift onto the road ahead.
My beloved first truck:
Before:
After:
And just for the shitz and gigz I did the led glow
Skid forward 6 months. I was the guy in high school known for randomly melting a set of tires off in the parking lot just to see the cloud (I was on my third set of tires by this point). Scaring kids on the side of the road with the exhaust dumps, cruising around with the music cranked, typical teenager driver, but with a much stronger passion for the drive.
Soon, after a very successful summer of ATV racing in Canada and the States, I was on my way to one of the last races of the season in Rimbey Alberta, from Fort St. John. It was about a 6 hour drive, and I could tell something was up with my truck, even before I left. Right before I began my trip, I had talked to the shop that had just replaced my front driveshaft, which was horribly twisted. They mentioned to me that it would be fine until I got back the next week. So while driving, about two hours away from Rimbey, my transfer case exploded, with a mess of ATF and gears flying down the highway with me. I quickly turned on my 4 ways and pulled over. I wanted to get my truck off the highway as quick as possible, so I headed to a nearby ranch and got help from the guy that ultimately saved my life. We got his old farm Jeep out to pull my truck to his driveway, and hopefully just leave it there until the end of the race weekend.
We backed the Jeep up to the truck, pulled the ropes out, hooked up the Jeep first, then went to look for the hooks under my truck (couldn't find them, Dakotas don't have front tow hooks) when the guy (Chris) told me to get out from under my truck, not to stand in-front of the vehicle and pulled me back by my shirt. Just as I had gotten on my feet, the truck was gone.
So was the Jeep, and the truck of the driver that hit me, and the trailer he was towing. Everything flew forward, and a blast of shattered truck pieces hit me in the face... I was stumbling backwards trying not to vomit, ears ringing, no perception of sound. Chris looked at me and said something, then began running towards his ranch to get help. Down the highway was my truck, followed by a trail of leaf spring remnants and chunks of my rim. Then the Jeep, one half torn off, bits of the fiberglass renegade body kit all over the highway. And the most vivid image burnt into my brain... The wheel from the trailer, in the middle of highway twirling until it finally fell flat on the pavement, the haunting 'ticking' of the 4 way flashers was the only thing I could hear.
My first vehicle, destroyed by a drunk driver that nearly killed Chris and I. The explosion of debris is burnt into my retinas, a constant reminder to stay on the grassy side of your vehicle when on the side of a busy highway.
Months later, I ultimately went to court. This guy had denied the breathalyzer, and played the system. Justice was not served. I had never seen my father cry until that moment, it was a strange day.
So after the insurance claim went through (a damn good one at that), I had a made a decision to get my dream car, the Nissan Skyline GTR. Little did I know, that this would be the most significant material possession that I would be emotionally attached to.
And now it begins...
been meaning to get rid of that Illmotion sticker.
Comment