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| All about 1985mustang |
Viewing profile :: 1985mustang
Joined: 673 Days
Posts: 28
Location: Colorado....
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| Think gas is expensive? |
Author:
Mikey ::
Posted:
Fri May 09, 2008 8:48 am
think a gallon of gas is expensive?
Evian water is $21.19 per gallon (9 oz bottle = $1.49)
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| Crappy video of my new motor finally running! |
Author:
SDK ::
Posted:
Thu May 08, 2008 2:42 pm
I posted this up everywhere else, might as well post it up here too. Car is a 1995 SVT Cobra with 66,000 original miles. Engine was running totally fine but of course I couldn't leave it well enough alone. In hindsight I probably should have just supercharged it but I wanted to do the HCI so w/e lol.
Motor:
-Cleaned/honed 302 stock block
-Reman'd crank
-KB 116 dome pistons on stock rods
-Edelbrock Performer RPM(2.02s) heads
-Tmoss ported Cobra intake
-Comp XE270HR-112 cam
Other mods:
-Tremec 3550 trans
-King Cobra clutch
-Newly rebalanced aluminum driveshaft
-3.73 gears
-Tri-Ax shifter
-Crane HI-6S ignition box
-PIH retrofit kit and A9L computer
-BBK Aluminum pullies
-BBK CAI
-Pro Flow 75mm MAF
-stock cobra 24lb injectors
-Comp 1.7 stud rockers
-MAC Longtubes
-MAC catted mid pipe
-Dynomax Ultraflow exhaust(the one Moose recommended to me all those years ago, still sounds great and no rust at all!)
-BBK 70mm TB
-Cobra oil cooler deleted
-Ridiculous smog crossover system deleted but I retained the air pump and ran a hose directly to the cats to keep them nice and cool. EGR is still in place for NJ emissions.
-Autometer Phantom II Mechanical Oil and Water guages
-Optima 750CCA Yellow Top battery
-Summit High torque mini starter
-MSD 8.5 Plug wires
-Accel Cap and Rotor
-Melling High performance/standard volume oil pump
-ARP oil pump shaft
-Max Motorsports LCAs
Still to go on:
-18x9/18x10.5 Polished Saleen rims
-275/35/18 fronts and 295/35/18 rear tires
-HR Red/Bilstein suspension
-03 Cobra A arms
-New stock UCAs
-Steeda X2 balljoints
-Kirban AFPR so Joe Heck Racing can adjust my fuel during a pre-dyno session
-Walbro 255lph pump going in when I get through the tank of gas in my car right now
-Summit brand high end battery relocation kit for the trunk(will also go in when I drop the tank)
-1998 Cobra bumper that acutally says "COBRA" whenever I get around to having it painted.
I THINK that is all lol. Hope you guys approve. I sure as hell do but with my luck the engine will blow up in about 10,000 miles for no good reason at all haha.
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| 93 mustang LX parts for sale |
Author:
frybread82 ::
Posted:
Tue May 06, 2008 11:50 am
I have a 93 Mustang LX with a 4cylinder i am parting out going to gettin rid of the car soon so let me know if you need anything
you can PM me here or email directly at frybread05yfz@hotmail.com and i could send you pix
Thanks Bry
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| A fictional story this time....A Tale of Two Salesmen. |
Author:
EvilScientistMoose ::
Posted:
Tue May 06, 2008 8:22 am
WARNING: SOMEWHAT GRAPHIC, AND INCREDIBLY BIZARRE!!!!
Gather 'round, children.....to hear an epic tale of hatred and war, oh yeah, and when the shit hits the fan.
This is a tale of Two Sporting Goods salesmen, and how their hatred of each other would eventually lead to their deaths.
THE two men who are the main characters in this story have no names. We know nothing of their life story, other than they work for two competing sporting goods companies, fighting for control of the same territory, and oh yeah, they wished that each other was dead. The competition between these two incredibly athletic, incredibly intense individuals was fierce, both on the field of battle (for sales figures), and off. Their hatred of each other, oddly enough, translated into a boon of incredible growth for their two employers, eventually displacing all other suppliers in the target market area. These two golden boys brought an before-unseen level of prosperity to their employers businesses, while at the same time, their hatred for each other festering to unsustainable levels of contempt, dimming what should have been the brightest lights of personal accomplishment.
Their intensity eventually shot beyond the border of common sense, when while both trying to court a new chain of sporting goods retail stores, giving sales presentations, one literally tried to out-do the other...and they came to blows. They were separated by security, and escorted outside....where they went right back to trying to beat each other to death with their laptop carrying cases.
After both being arrested, they were both called back to their prospective employers. Both had stellar sales careers, both excelled in their chosen fields...however, these two rising stars were on a collision course, to where the one could not live knowing the other existed. Both thought they would continue with their companies....however, continuing down this parallel set of life paths, Both were unceremoniously....fired.
One called the other, right after being being escorted from the building.
"Tangent Field, one hour, be there"......
Click.
Sure enough, one hour later, at the beautiful Tangent Field soccer facility, where both had played against each other as kids, where both had ran sponsored events for their now former employers, and in a little less than 24 hours, where both would end up trying to kill each other.
They were of course, 50 minutes early. they arrived at exactly the same time, walked out to the center of the field, at exactly the same speed, oddly enough, both arriving in similar cars, and wearing similar suits. It occurs to me, that they hated each other because they were so allike, and did everything just like each other, almost like disfunctional brothers.
They met at half-field, eyeing each other like tomcats about to spar.
"You are a piece of shit, you got me fired."
"Oh yeah? You are an even bigger piece of shit, and you are the one that got ME fired".
Childish, isn't it? The cause of their strife with each other?
Unknown.
"I want to end this. You are the most worthless piece of shit to have ever existed."
"Then, let's end it; tomorrow, on THIS field.
"Terms of battle?"
"Since you are such a piece of shit, I want to kill you with it".
"What, are you f***ing mental?"
"Not as much as you are".
"Fine. You want to eat shit and die? Tomorrow, 9 am, you are allowed to wear anything from your company, and I am allowed to wear anything from MY company, since after I kill you, they will be dying to hire me back!"
"tomorrow, then."
They took several uneasy steps backwards, one not taking their eyes off of the other, one not trusting the other enough to turn their backs. At the sidelines, they eventually turned away from each other, and left the field, with several hundred people, who just happened to have their soccer game interrupted, looked at each other in complete confusion, as to try to figure out what just happened.
Each man went to his former employer, and snuck back into their warehouses after both had closed, and hand-picked what they thought we be essential for defeating their foes...and then engaged in further preparation for the next morning's battle.
Dawn the next day, revealed a beautiful sunny sky, and 70-degrees. It also revealed a Tangent Field already packed with spectators for what promised to be quite possibly the dumbest thing they had ever seen in their lives...but since it was free....
One man arrived in a Red outfit, the other in Blue. At this point in the story, since we still don't have any names, we will simply now refer to our two characters as "Red" and "Blue".
Moving on....
Blue wore the latest in National-Football-League Quarterback pads, and helmet with eye protection. When the shit started flying, he knew that he would be protected. The only other notable addition? He was wearing assless Spandex football tights, and was packing a 5-foot synthetic canoe paddle.
Red went the paintball route, but bearing no armor or weaponry, other than a full paintball mask, and of course, wearing assless Spandex pants. Red determined that speed would be better than weaponry and armor.
What else did these two warriors bring as weaponry?
Last night's eating binges.
Blue had an all-night foray at a local Taco Bell, eating until his tortured colon could stand no more, and finally dragging himself away from his gorging, his poop chute wisping occasional toxic green mists.
Red? Red was a cultured man, and decided that the silver bullet he thought wold work was Hindu/Indian cuisine....red-hot curry. He too loaded up on an Indian all-night buffet table, until his veins coursed with the acid of Ghandi's curse, his eyes burning.
Asses clenched, they walked from opposite sidelines, both in extreme gastronomic distress. A faint aroma followed both men, the toxic plume killing some large seagulls that traveled too close to the soon-to-be combatants, their feathered bodies dead, without even so much as a gagged sqwauk, before they hit the ground.
Red and Blue circled the half point center, eying each other. Both were overconfident that the other would be dead in mere moments. They finally stopped pacing, as the 9am buzzer starting a soccer game a couple of fields over was the signal point to go to battle. As both men stopped, right before the buzzer sounded, doubt began to gnaw at both men. However, the shrill, loud sound of their personal doom overrode any thoughts of backing out now.
Red immediately turned and ran back away from the half field line, to get room to get mount a gymnastic shit launch attack at his nemesis. Blue froze for a moment, unsure what to do. Red then ran forward, going into an immediate gymnastic cartwheel, every time that his ass was in line with Blue, he would fire a shit salvo, each round moving at several hundred feet per second, straight at the chest plate of Blue.
Blue began to move, but too late....each Hershey Hammer slamming him in the chest plate, Like Thor trying to drive a chocolate lightning bolt into him.
Each concussive, squishy blow sent Blue reeling, eventually pounding him into the ground, with Red's Chocolate Storm continuing to rain death from behind as he fell. Even on the ground, as Blue writhed in pain, and gagged from the smell, Red's slow cartwheel, climaxed with a final large missle straight towards Blue's head, a killing blow that would leave his head a smoking hole.
Blue ducked away at the last second, with the shit SAM (surface to air) missing his head, but striking the ground a couple of inches away from his face, dirt and pieces of turf blown up and into Blue's face, leaving small cuts behind.
Red cartwheeled away, and out of the range of Blue, so while Red moved away, Blue drew from inner reserves of strength, and leapt to his feet, like someone jabbing him in the ass with....an....ass-jabber. While Red ran away to get in place for another cartwheel of fecal death, Blue ran towards Red, canoe paddle in hand. He then went into a series of gymnastic summersaults, and every time his ass went into the air, he fired his Turd Thunderpods into the sky, forward of his immediate position, so when he was back upright, he had his canoe paddle swinging forward, slapping his paddle against the dropping Chocogrenades, driving them at a velocity of 3 times the speed of sound, causing thunderclaps to occur each time he struck with his paddle.
Red was not idle. He danced around the field, dodging Blue's anal artillery barrage, each speeding 88mm shitake shell blowing copious amounts of the field in the air, turf and dirt flying up like some sort of ass well sprouting up like a gusher, with the resulting sound not unlike the God Zeus pounding away at a goddess girlfriend, up on Mount Olyanus.
However, Red's ability only carried him so far, as Blue fired his last, most lethal atom ass bomb was cannoned straight at Red's chest. Red tried twisting away, but the blast caught him in the unarmored left shoulder, blowing his left arm off at the rotator cuff, spewing blood and poo all over the field behind him, like some sort of an exploding poo slaughterhouse, spinning Red's body multiple times in the air.
Blue walked confidently toward the apparent loser of this conflict. Red knew he was dying, not only was he bleeding to death, but he knew that the poisonous acid of the Indian Cuisine was eroding him from the inside out, and that he only had maybe moments to perhaps strike a surprise mortal blow to his enemy, before he was too week from the venom and blood loss to do anything.
At times like this, under great emotional duress, there have been recorded events where people trying to save other people, such as mothers trying to save their children by flipping over cars, men lifting boulders off of their sons, when given a giant burst of internal adrenalin. So great was Red's need to strike a final blow at his mortal enemy, that he too was infused with enough adrenalin to move where otherwise he couldn't have.
As Blue primed himself to fire a final lethal blow, to finish off his arch-nemesis, Red, with enough adrenalin coursing in his veins to allow him to hurl 10 African elephants with a single hurl, rolled over on all fours, doggie, style, and clenched the mightiest of clenches.
Forces strong enough to destroy mountain ranges, create 10 million tons of diamonds, and to get at least 3 or 4 virgins to give in to our demands for naughtyness, all directed towards his Stupendous Sphincter, and squeezed out one last titanic shit javelin.
Blue didn't have time to react, although he did have one of those 'time slows down' moments, when he saw the flames erupt from Red's fudge portal, as if he was watching one of those films from the 1980's, where you get to see an ICBM launch from its shit silo, a tremendous firestorm marking its birth from the choco canal.
This was all Blue had time for, however, as an impressive, gleaming, and flaming 8-foot-long shit spear launched with anal armaggeddon its only purpose, firing the crystalline shaft, with a tremendous and titanic blast, as if a 500-foot-tall Demon was trying to angrily shit out 100 little smaller demons, straight through Blue's chest plate, lodging half in the front, and half in the back of Blue's chest.
Blue desperately grasped the flaming brown spear front and back, to try to pull it out....but he suddenly realized, with startling clarity, as if discovering for the first time that Daddy was Santa Claus, that he was about to die, from his heart stopping due to a gigantic Nestle's Crunch Spear being lodged through his heart, and the fact that the hazardous pure alkalin Taco Bell venom was dissolving him from the inside, out....and as he fell to the ground, breathing his last breath, he uttered the words "I got to die first"....
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| speedometer.... |
Author:
ivan_serrano33 ::
Posted:
Thu May 01, 2008 9:00 pm
can anyone help me by telling me why my speedometer gage reads 5mph faster than what it really is...what can be the cause..?
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| Poll question |
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Which engine should I use?
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