Originally Posted by Masteratarms93

You pull up to an old lady driving a Grand Marquis in the Acme parking lot and rev at her. "Right here, right now broski!" you scream, and she replies "But I need to go home and feed my kitten." You rev at her again and train your eyes across the parking lot at a photo hut about 1/8 a mile away. You know your 3.0 can easily pull a 1/8 mile in the high 30s, her 4.6L ain't got sh*t. You have a stick shift. She's done for. You glance back at her through your passenger window and nod towards the photo hut, she stares back through coke bottle glasses and mouths "You're going down sonny." It's on! You honk your horn three times in slow rapid succession and rev up to the 3k limiter, she turns off the OD and poises to stamp down on the skinny pedal with the brute force of a small child. Just as you let off the clutch you here a hollow thud and a bang. The tachometer drops and the truck stalls out. Your clutch slave gave out under the awesome power of the 3.0 and on top of it your trusty Ford 7.5 couldn't handle the tire squealing torque and sheared off the ring gear. You watch in hopeless defeat as the old women madly weaves her way around carts and strollers to the photo hut at excesses of 10 MPH. She coolly pulls up to the photo hut and turns around to head back your way. She makes a victory lap around your broken truck, which is now in flames due to the faulty cruise-control switch, blaring "Tokyo Drift" by the Teriyaki Boyz. She grins and drives away, she has to go feed Mr. Fluffy.

*drops mic, walks away*