Okay, here is a story about my beautiful 1970 Plymouth 'Cuda (a.k.a. love of my life).
I have been working on getting him running all spring and just when I think he is ready to go out of the garage..BOOM! something else breaks. Typical Mopar. So I was tired of working on him and stopped, but Dad took over and "finished it."
So, yesterday my father threw the keys to me and said "Here, Grimmie is ready. Take him for a ride?"
Me: "Yay! Do you wanna come along?"
Dad: "No, I will stay home, just in case you need a tow home."
Me: "Oh, I see that you have much faith in your work?"
Dad just smiled.
I go into the garage and start him up, and he starts the first time and idles all by himself. I think "Huh? Alright Grimms let go." We head down the street and everything looks good all the gauges are reading right on, and he is handling like a dream. That is until I was about 3 miles from home, going up hill on a busy street (well as busy as muskegon gets), I glance down at my gauges and see that he is about to over heat. I turn on the heat and fans to try and pull some of the heat away from the engine, and limp to a parking lot. I began chuckling and call Dad, tell him and he says that he is on his way with some water. Actually what he said was "Didn't you check the coolant?" Now, when he said it is all set to go I assumed that meant everything was ready to go, including fluids. Dad shows up and we begin putting the water in the radiator, and I told him that I was going to start it up, but when I get in the car, he won't start. Finally get him started, but need gas, so I reluctantly drive over the gas station followed by Dad and get some gas. When I am done, I get in and Grimmie starts right up!
Here comes the fun part. On the way home, his temp is its normal cold as hell and I decided enough fucking around, it is time to have some fun. I pulls up to a four way stop, and wait for some cars to get down the road a little ways. I drop him down into first, look at Dad is the rear view mirror (who by the way gets a big shit eating grin on his face and gives me a thumbs up), and slowly roll through the turn. Once I am going straight I hit the throttle and Grimmie kicks out to the left, so in order not to hit any mailboxes I short shift him, he squawks and kicks out to the right. Now I am really smiling, but see one of those pesky mailboxes, so I am forced to short shift again into third, which sucks because I only have a 3 speed automatic.
Don't get me wrong I love my automatics for drag racing, but the shifting is over way to soon. Anyway back to the story here. Grimace squawks again, and goes straight. Damn, I love that shit! 
I get home and into the garage, Dad pulls in behind me, gets out of the truck and says "Now, that is how I taught you how to drive!" While he was saying it he was beaming with pride. Now, that is a cool Dad.
Edited for SYH653's peace of mind.
I have been working on getting him running all spring and just when I think he is ready to go out of the garage..BOOM! something else breaks. Typical Mopar. So I was tired of working on him and stopped, but Dad took over and "finished it."
So, yesterday my father threw the keys to me and said "Here, Grimmie is ready. Take him for a ride?"
Me: "Yay! Do you wanna come along?"
Dad: "No, I will stay home, just in case you need a tow home."
Me: "Oh, I see that you have much faith in your work?"
Dad just smiled.
I go into the garage and start him up, and he starts the first time and idles all by himself. I think "Huh? Alright Grimms let go." We head down the street and everything looks good all the gauges are reading right on, and he is handling like a dream. That is until I was about 3 miles from home, going up hill on a busy street (well as busy as muskegon gets), I glance down at my gauges and see that he is about to over heat. I turn on the heat and fans to try and pull some of the heat away from the engine, and limp to a parking lot. I began chuckling and call Dad, tell him and he says that he is on his way with some water. Actually what he said was "Didn't you check the coolant?" Now, when he said it is all set to go I assumed that meant everything was ready to go, including fluids. Dad shows up and we begin putting the water in the radiator, and I told him that I was going to start it up, but when I get in the car, he won't start. Finally get him started, but need gas, so I reluctantly drive over the gas station followed by Dad and get some gas. When I am done, I get in and Grimmie starts right up!
Here comes the fun part. On the way home, his temp is its normal cold as hell and I decided enough fucking around, it is time to have some fun. I pulls up to a four way stop, and wait for some cars to get down the road a little ways. I drop him down into first, look at Dad is the rear view mirror (who by the way gets a big shit eating grin on his face and gives me a thumbs up), and slowly roll through the turn. Once I am going straight I hit the throttle and Grimmie kicks out to the left, so in order not to hit any mailboxes I short shift him, he squawks and kicks out to the right. Now I am really smiling, but see one of those pesky mailboxes, so I am forced to short shift again into third, which sucks because I only have a 3 speed automatic.
Don't get me wrong I love my automatics for drag racing, but the shifting is over way to soon. Anyway back to the story here. Grimace squawks again, and goes straight. Damn, I love that shit!
I get home and into the garage, Dad pulls in behind me, gets out of the truck and says "Now, that is how I taught you how to drive!" While he was saying it he was beaming with pride. Now, that is a cool Dad.
Edited for SYH653's peace of mind.
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The major cleaning will commence Wednesday, at the latest. Assuming I am not distracted...
*pulls blonde strand from beard*
...by that golden retriever again.