Tractor pull
My oldest son (16yo) and I went to our first tractor pull last night. I can say with my utmost conviction, that I have never been so impressed and revolted at the same time. I have been more revolted at times, and maybe more impressed (although I can't remember an incident) at other times, but never the two entwined. First the revolted (just to get it over with). That was a slice of humanity that should never be administered in that strong of a dose at one time. Not the participants, but the spectators. It makes me question my hot rod genes. More about that in a minute.
Now for the impressed part. After the first 4 engined, 8000 h.p. fire breathing monster made its pull, I was trying to organize how I felt into a concise, intelligible statement, and here it is... "HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS LOUD, FAST, BRUTAL, AND BEAUTIFUL!!!" It's hard to be eloquent, while stuffing yer eardrums and yer tongue back in yer head, but I think I did ok. After that first multi engined run, I felt one with my redneck brethren! If everyone would have broke out in a tractor pull praise and worship song right then, I would have joined in whole heartedly. I was weak, giddy, my face hurt from smiling so big. I think I'm an addict, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. The sound is what got to me, sticks with me the most. The roar of 4 blown big blocks near redline, the tortured whine of a chorus of blowers and transmission gears. It was so beautiful, powerful, overwhelming... the sound was almost visible. I told my son that that must be close to the sound of the end of time, or Armageddon, he just smiled distantly and sighed yaaah.....I think he was impressed too.
I liked the smell of the alcohol/methanol smoke cloud that drifted over the bleachers after every run. It's a distinctive smell, kind of sweet yet industrial. A smell you probably shouldn't like, but can't help it. Like the smell of a ski boat, you know, the 2 cycle oil/gas exhaust mixed with lake water. There ought to be a perfume for women with that smell. Do I come across as shallow? my wife thinks so....
How does all this apply to my truck project? I don't know, it probably won't change the truck in a visual way, I won't put pulling tires on it, or stick the exhaust out of the hood, or anything out of the hood for that matter. But the sound...that sweet sound....my precious....
I've changed a little from this experience, I'm not going to get a tattoo, or pierce anything, or start wearing bare midriff t-shirts (maybe just at home), but I think I've just hit another gear in my hot roddin journey.
It was their fault. My cousins I mean. They're the ones that invited us to go. I won't name names, but you know who you are. You're responsible for this, my new addiction. There is a way out though, a way to atone for your sins so to speak. You can donate to the Chevy 6.2 diesel fund for the needy builders of obnoxiously loud engines. It's a fairly exclusive charity. I know all the poor tortured souls that will be recipients of your kind gifts. I'm sure he...I mean they would be eternally grateful for any donation.....
Now for the impressed part. After the first 4 engined, 8000 h.p. fire breathing monster made its pull, I was trying to organize how I felt into a concise, intelligible statement, and here it is... "HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THAT IS LOUD, FAST, BRUTAL, AND BEAUTIFUL!!!" It's hard to be eloquent, while stuffing yer eardrums and yer tongue back in yer head, but I think I did ok. After that first multi engined run, I felt one with my redneck brethren! If everyone would have broke out in a tractor pull praise and worship song right then, I would have joined in whole heartedly. I was weak, giddy, my face hurt from smiling so big. I think I'm an addict, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. The sound is what got to me, sticks with me the most. The roar of 4 blown big blocks near redline, the tortured whine of a chorus of blowers and transmission gears. It was so beautiful, powerful, overwhelming... the sound was almost visible. I told my son that that must be close to the sound of the end of time, or Armageddon, he just smiled distantly and sighed yaaah.....I think he was impressed too.
I liked the smell of the alcohol/methanol smoke cloud that drifted over the bleachers after every run. It's a distinctive smell, kind of sweet yet industrial. A smell you probably shouldn't like, but can't help it. Like the smell of a ski boat, you know, the 2 cycle oil/gas exhaust mixed with lake water. There ought to be a perfume for women with that smell. Do I come across as shallow? my wife thinks so....
How does all this apply to my truck project? I don't know, it probably won't change the truck in a visual way, I won't put pulling tires on it, or stick the exhaust out of the hood, or anything out of the hood for that matter. But the sound...that sweet sound....my precious....
I've changed a little from this experience, I'm not going to get a tattoo, or pierce anything, or start wearing bare midriff t-shirts (maybe just at home), but I think I've just hit another gear in my hot roddin journey.
It was their fault. My cousins I mean. They're the ones that invited us to go. I won't name names, but you know who you are. You're responsible for this, my new addiction. There is a way out though, a way to atone for your sins so to speak. You can donate to the Chevy 6.2 diesel fund for the needy builders of obnoxiously loud engines. It's a fairly exclusive charity. I know all the poor tortured souls that will be recipients of your kind gifts. I'm sure he...I mean they would be eternally grateful for any donation.....
posted by Grade 8 Nut at 12:14 PM
1 Comments:
Dear mom,
Cut the muffler off and get bigger tires. Your neighbors will love it, I promise.
Love,
Your favorite son
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