Funniest car stories

Surely this has been done, but if so i can't find it, so what the heck I'll start with mine.

Sophomore year of college (1995), finals are coming up and the girl that I like (now my wife) and I both live on campus. She doesn't have a car, I'm driving a 71 chevelle malibu, with a quart/tank of gas 307. I ask her if she wants to hang out one evening, and she says she can't because she has to do laundry. I look over and see I'm down to one clean shirt, and offer to drive her to one of the off campus laundrymats instead of having to wait forever for the couple of dorm washers.

This is before we are dating, and really just hanging out. When we get there she is so shy she makes me leave the laundrymat everytime she loads/ unloads anything with her underwear in it. We go to leave, I put my laundry baskets in first, load her 3 big bags on top of them and shut the trunk. Pull back up in front of her dorm and go to open the trunk. The key pops, then just spins and spins in the lock. It's raining/sleeting pretty hard, and she is NOT looking impressed.

As she storms into her dorm she tells me she has to study and I had better get her clothes to her soon. In shock I realize every tool i own is also locked in the trunk, so I head over to a buddies apartment and in the parking lot we remove the rear seat, and then manage to reach through two softball size holes in the bulkhead behind the seat, turn the clothes bags around, and start pulling all her clothes out, and stuffing it into trashbags. I'm freezing and laughing how she didn't want me to see her underwear, now I'm grabbing all of them. I eventually get the way cleared so I can use my boy scout lashing skills to tie a screwdriver onto the end of a sand wedge and pop the trunk.

I bring her her clothes back, and a few days later she tells me she is missing a pair of purple panties, and I need to find them. I figure they are long lost in the parking lot and never think about it again.

End of the semester, I drive her home and drop her off at her parents house. I've never met them before, but her dad comes out to meet me and we start talking about my car. He tells me he had one in college too and asks if he can take mine for a spin. I say sure, and hand him the keys.

He's a good 5 inches taller than me, so he sits down and reaches down to slide the seat back, and comes out with the purple panties wrapped around his pinkie.

His look was quite priceless. i stammered, thought about saying that they weren't his daughters, then figured that wouldn't really help the cause any and just drove around the block in total silence on a trip that seemed to take 18 years.

The REALLY bad part is I hadn't been anywhere CLOSE to her holy of holys at this point, but I didn't think he'd believe me.

I have many... I will post a few up later when I have time to build some word castles.

icaneat50eggs said: *snip* His look was quite priceless. i stammered, thought about saying that they weren't his daughters, then figured that wouldn't really help the cause any and just drove around the block in total silence on a trip that seemed to take 18 years.

Impressive!

In reply to icaneat50eggs:

That is awesome.

Great Story!

I'm not much of a story teller, but I'll give it a go...

My wife and I did the cheap and simple wedding option and got hitched at the court house. After the "ceremony" we took all of our family out to a local, upscale restaurant and had a fantastic meal. At the time I was daily driving my Mercedes 240D that I had just recently swapped a junk-yard turbo-diesel engine into in her parent's driveway. I had read the old starter from the 4-cyl engine might not be up to the task of cranking the bigger engine, but it had not given me any trouble...until we went to leave the reception on our "honeymoon" to Jantzen beach in Portland. Turn key, dash lights up, but no crank. Hmmm... I didn't want to do much diagnosis in my nice clothes, but luckily the car was a stick. I got all of the family in their nice clothes to push us down a down-town Portland street far enough to drop the clutch and fire the car up. Luckily she still likes the car.

Back in high school I had just finished installing remote start in my Mustang and tried to show my friend how it worked. Unfortunately, I had left the car in gear and the car actually had enough grunt to not stall, and started driving down the street. I ran after it, hopped in and got it out of gear just before the end of the cul-de-sac and a row of mail boxes.

OP's story is pretty epic!

bgkast wrote: I got all of the family in their nice clothes to push us down a down-town Portland street far enough to drop the clutch and fire the car up.

If it was a quickie wedding, I'm guessing you didn't get photographs of this? That would make an epic photo.

Yep, not much of a story teller but:

I had just just rebuilt the motor in my 911 on a complete shoestring budget and was in the middle of installing it with one of my good buddies. It was already mounted, and we were just thrashing through all the little stuff that needed to be hooked up. Clutch, fuel lines, shifter, etc. We had done this drill a dozen times by now across 3-4 different cars so we're both running on automatic. Well I look up from doing something or other and notice that the kimwipe I had put in the breather line way in the back was missing, but the breather line wasn't hooked up yet.

T- Hey Dave?

D- Ya?

T-you pull the kimwipe out of the breather?

D- Nope.

T- It's missing. You think it got pushed into the motor?

D- Nah, couldn't have I must have pulled it out.

T- Then why didn't you install the breather hose

D- Dunno, It'll be fine, just hook it up.

T- (shrug)(installs hose, starts working again)

Hour or so later we get the motor all set to fire up. I turn the key and we get the usual MFI first start.

(crank)(crank)(crank)(crank)(woof)

(crank)(crank)(crank)(crank)(crank)(woof)

(crank)(crank)(crank)(woof)

(crank)(crank)(woof)

(crank)(crank)(woof)(woof)

(crank)(crank)(woof)

(crank)(VROOM) (THUD!!)

I turn the car off thinking the whole thing had blown up. The whole car rocked(while on jackstands!) what felt like a foot. Look back at Dave who's was manning the fire extinquisher/monitoring the motor. He's just giggling like he couldn't believe what he just saw.

T-What the hell just happened?

D- I dunno but the motor just jumped a foot! Crank it over it'll be fine.

I fire it back up and it runs great! except it's got E36 M3ty oil pressure.

(week of diagnostics go by, confirming the OP is indeed away too low)

Dave and I tear down the motor looking for the culprit. We get all the way down to the crank. When he pulls it out of the engine, guess what I find stuffed between the webs of the crankcase? Yep! That kimwipe. that little 2 gram paper nothing made the motor jump like you wouldn't ever believe when it hit the crank.

Post-Script: Turned out the low OP was from the oil pressure relief piston not seating correctly due to improper cleaning of that bore. (it's integral to the crankcase, and nearly impossible to see inside. Classic n00b mistake.

Edit: That got a little long.. Sorry about that.

Long story short...I think I told this story before, but here goes...

Circa 1990 or so, my parents made me take a driving instruction class, so they could lower their insurance rates. Class was run by AAA. The instructors car was a Dodge Omni. Our class decided to play a practical joke on the teacher. During a break from classroom instruction, we picked up the back of the car and rotated it, so that it was wedged into a corner facing a chain link fence. Well, if you recall, the Omni had bumpers that stuck out fairly far from the car. We went to put the car down and I had my leg partially bent, with my knee fully exposed. Wham! Right down on top of my knee. Luckily, nothing broke, but had a terrible bone bruise and some temporary nerve damage.

This happened one week before my senior prom. I went to the prom on crutches.

I've got lots of "learing experiences" in my life: 20+ years have passed on this one, I think its safe to tell.

Friend and I finished squeezing a built/stroked 460 into his, chrome yellow, '85 Mustang at 3am on a Saturday night in a small SE town I won't name. We were out to kill MM&FF TSC or World Ford Challenge or ANY street race we could get.

Sorta problem was, nothing on the car was actually street legal yet, no tag, 13 to 1, spool in the rearend, Dominator, 3? gal of C116 in a 10 gal cell, open headers, 1 seat, rollcage, full slicks, 3 1/2 skinnys, no hood, no lights, etc.

At 3am in our peaceful neighborhood we fired the monster up. You could stand behind the car 30 feet and the exhaust puffs would burn your eyes and shake your britches like a fan. We were very tired but smiling like two dumbA's from ear to ear. Kinda like we were 2 proud Papas’!

He says "Let's take it around the town square (3 miles away) to christen her?". Hummm? A Virgins Maiden Voyage! Well, I wasn’t driving, That is like, the best idea ever! Lets go! I am now sitting on a milk crate on the passenger’s side (remember no seat) and off we rumbled.

There are a couple of cars on the early morning road but no PoPo so far, so awesomely great! I remember both of us laughing 'til sides hurt, at our accomplishment of race gas, and beautiful big hp noise. You could actually see the town square store front widows rattling and it kinda looked like they were clapping for us. A victory lap around town hall. Then it happened.

My friend decides to light them up. The speedometer was buried in 2nd gear well before he shifted to 3rd. Inside the car thick smoke. The town square is covered in smoke and noise. Can't see s***, and he then turns off the line lock and opens the door to hell. I've instantly lost the battle of trying to hold onto the rollcage. My ass grew arms and independently gripped/puckered the milk crate in for its own dear life.

And My Wonderful Friend, now knows he made a life's significant mistake.

Car fish tails, he death grips the wheel, car jumps bucks, and bam! it felt like we were hit in the rear. Nope, I look out the window and I see a smoky ghosty slick tire screaming past us at 140mph or whatever it was spinning at. No c-clips, broke an axle. Oops, surely did not plan on that.

Tire now heads off through the fog and lets us know it is stopped, and has reached its final destination, with the cringing sound of much crashing glass and then followed by the melodic tones of a burglar alarm. Oops again, store front window? way down the square?.

Tire also took out brake line and we do a 360 or two and got Cerberus stopped without hitting anything else.

Instant panic sets in (besides needing need new drawers). He says, "T, quick! go get the slick/wheel!" I replied; "Have you lost your damn mind, I'm fixing to run! and you want me to go look for YOUR tire inside a store with an burglar alarm going off"?! "That is the best idea you have"?

He quickly came up with another idea. "Lets you, me, and the car, get the hell out of here"! OK?, to me sounds great, or so much better than the first idea. He says, "You drive, and I will sit on the front corner to counter balance the missing wheel". He is a big guy, (well we both are, and he did not ask me to sit on the front) and it sounded excellent, but I was only focused on the part of "Getting the hell out of here!".

So, the next thing I remember is I'm driving an PoPo calling, 3 legged TRIPOD, low on race gas, now overheating, no rear brakes, impossible to see around, fattish friend is sitting on the front (outside) corner, and there are sparks shooting out behind us like some big 4th of July roman candle 'cause half the rearend housing is dragging the pavement.

I know I even passed a car on the way home.

Pulled the car in the alley, he jumped, I downshifted, turned it off, and rammed the fridge in the shed to stop the car.

It took a week before we stopped shaking. It took 6 months before I would go near the square. He painted the car another color. Never did find out where the tire actually went. Never heard a peep.....and that was OK with me.

OK... this really isn't much of a story compared to some of these but...

A bunch of years ago I was on a 3 week engagement for a large yellow equipment manufacturer in Peoria, Ill. with another engineer who was also a car nut.

It had weathered while we were working so we were downtown with Dodge Neon rental, 8 miles from the hotel and there were 6" of unplowed snow on the ground. So... off we go. If you have ever been to Peoria and the surrounding area - the roads are wide. Really wide. Like... you can loop a car on main street without hitting any curbs or parking meters. My friend is driving and we are getting on the highway. The place is a ghost town. A about halfway around the on-ramp I yell "think fast" and yank the hand brake on figuring we would go around. He caught it and held on... this lead to much hilarity. We did that a few more times taking turns trying to get the other guy to spin. At some point we discovered the only redeeming quality of both FWD and the Dodge Neon is that it really does not need rear wheels in the snow at all.

Once you discover a thing like that...

We drove around the whole area with the handbrake locked for the next 3hrs taking turns and at times laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. It is like a slide car they use at driving schools only with no off switch. We spent the better part of an hour in a parking lot trying to do two full spins and end up parked perfect in a space... doing 50 on the freeway and lifting - then trying to gather it back up. Just really silly stuff like a bunch of 8yr olds do with a PowerWheels on blacktop. I can still remember how bad my sides were hurting from laughing.

It is still the only decent thing besides German food that I can recall from Peoria.

I ran with a group of about 8 guys in high school. Didn't really fit in with any other groups, but we were all into cars. We had a younger buddy in high school who was totally uninterested in cars, and couldn't drive worth a E36M3. We didn't hang out all that much, but about once a year, he'd provide us with a cheap beater i.e. he'd have a nice $1500 daily driver, and wreck it and sell it to us for next to nothing (I'm pretty sure we bought one for $75, a couple of big chocolate muffins, and a large chocolate shake).

The first was an '89 Topaz. Painted it up, took it terrace jumping with 5 guys in it. Great fun. That car introduced all of us to fuel pump cutoff switches, the kind that you have to root around in the trunk to find and push the button down before it'll run again. Broke the radiator early on, but packed the break full of good Kansas dirt, so it didn't leak or overheat. That was a valiant little car, and it died a disproportionately horrible death. We had parked it 50 feet or so from where my buddy's folks burned trash, and they got a grass fire going one day, fire got under the floorboards, started the rear carpet via the rust holes, melted the plastic fuel lines. His brother came out, put out the grass fire before noticing that the car windows were smoked over. Dumbass opened the door. Apparently made a really nice explosion, and he lost his eyebrows and some of his hair. Burned to the ground. I've got a picture, will post it later. Edit: here's the picture.

The next one was an early '90s Escort, 4 door sedan. He'd rolled this one, so we kicked the windshield out and thrashed on it (it isn't illegal to run sans windshield in KS, just so long as you're wearing eye protection). We found this really sweet paved low-water crossing on an unmaintained dirt road. It wasn't quite a true half-pipe, but very steep entry and very steep exit, with quick transitions to level dirt road on either side. We got that one on video, but our film crew lost the SD cards... Again, 5 guys in the car, 60 or 70 mph at exit of the crossing yielded about 5 feet of air under the wheels and flight distance of about 60 feet. Unfortunately, Escorts are a bit nose heavy, and we holed the oil pan in pretty short order. Made it home before the engine seized, and scrapped the car a couple years later.

Giant Purple Snorklewacker wrote: It is still the only decent thing besides German food that I can recall from Peoria.

Peoria has German food? Why have I not heard of this?

Otherwise, yeah, not that great of a place. Not quite the armpit of the state, but still not a great place.

A bunch of us were trying to get up north to a buddy's cabin on a busy summer Friday after work. Lots of traffic. We had three car loads of people in our convoy. Then an annoying riced up civic is riding our bumpers and weaving like a d-bag trying to get around us just to reach the rest of the hundred cars ahead of us.

Finally traffic breaks, and the civic takes off; fart can farting. My buddy in his '9x Grand Prix GTP takes off after him. Both evaporate into the distance. A couple miles later my buddy is sand bagging it back to the group and rejoins us. Thirty seconds later the civic is seen sitting on the side of the road with the hood up and white smoke pouring out. The driver staring at the mill. We honked, waved, and hooted!

mtn wrote:

Giant Purple Snorklewacker wrote: It is still the only decent thing besides German food that I can recall from Peoria.

Peoria has German food? Why have I not heard of this? Otherwise, yeah, not that great of a place. Not quite the armpit of the state, but still not a great place.

It was something like "Hofbrau Haus" or something. Smoked chops to die for. DAB on tap.

These are great! I'll add mine:

In an effort to impress my then gf, now (somehow) wife, I took her in my very lifted Samurai. It was a warm fall day and the trail was filled with granite boulders that ranged from cooler-sized to semi engine block-sized with lots of drop offs and off-camber areas. So there we are, belted in and ready to crawl off a 3' drop that leaned the Samurai precariously to the drivers side. The lack of doors, top or 50% of the body added to the experience.

I was inching down when gravity took over and pitched us onto the drivers side "door" putting my future wife into a position literally hanging from her seatbelt beside me. I quickly unbuckled and began to deadlift the Samurai back onto its wheels when she dicided she wanted OUT! I looked at her and calmly said " you can't get out". Looking scared and confused, she asked why. I explained to her that "you're the only thing keeping this thing from going completely upside down right now!". After getting out of this situation, it was getting dark... And cold... Both of us had dressed for the 75 degree trip to, not the 35 degree trip home. No doors, no tailgate, no top, 35 degrees and 45 mph makes for a cold ride home. That didnt stop us from stopping for ice cream however! Been together almost 11 years now and never been off road with her since!

Gasoline wrote: I've got lots of "learing experiences" in my life: 20+ years have passed on this one, I think its safe to tell. Friend and I finished squeezing a built/stroked 460 into his, chrome yellow, '85 Mustang at 3am on a Saturday night in a small SE town I won't name. We were out to kill MM&FF TSC or World Ford Challenge or ANY street race we could get. Sorta problem was, nothing on the car was actually street legal yet, no tag, 13 to 1, spool in the rearend, Dominator, 3? gal of C116 in a 10 gal cell, open headers, 1 seat, rollcage, full slicks, 3 1/2 skinnys, no hood, no lights, etc. At 3am in our peaceful neighborhood we fired the monster up. You could stand behind the car 30 feet and the exhaust puffs would burn your eyes and shake your britches like a fan. We were very tired but smiling like two dumbA's from ear to ear. Kinda like we were 2 proud Papas’! He says "Let's take it around the town square (3 miles away) to christen her?". Hummm? A Virgins Maiden Voyage! Well, I wasn’t driving, That is like, the best idea ever! Lets go! I am now sitting on a milk crate on the passenger’s side (remember no seat) and off we rumbled. There are a couple of cars on the early morning road but no PoPo so far, so awesomely great! I remember both of us laughing 'til sides hurt, at our accomplishment of race gas, and beautiful big hp noise. You could actually see the town square store front widows rattling and it kinda looked like they were clapping for us. A victory lap around town hall. Then it happened. My friend decides to light them up. The speedometer was buried in 2nd gear well before he shifted to 3rd. Inside the car thick smoke. The town square is covered in smoke and noise. Can't see s***, and he then turns off the line lock and opens the door to hell. I've instantly lost the battle of trying to hold onto the rollcage. My ass grew arms and independently gripped/puckered the milk crate in for its own dear life. And My Wonderful Friend, now knows he made a life's significant mistake. Car fish tails, he death grips the wheel, car jumps bucks, and bam! it felt like we were hit in the rear. Nope, I look out the window and I see a smoky ghosty slick tire screaming past us at 140mph or whatever it was spinning at. No c-clips, broke an axle. Oops, surely did not plan on that. Tire now heads off through the fog and lets us know it is stopped, and has reached its final destination, with the cringing sound of much crashing glass and then followed by the melodic tones of a burglar alarm. Oops again, store front window? way down the square?. Tire also took out brake line and we do a 360 or two and got Cerberus stopped without hitting anything else. Instant panic sets in (besides needing need new drawers). He says, "T, quick! go get the slick/wheel!" I replied; "Have you lost your damn mind, I'm fixing to run! and you want me to go look for YOUR tire inside a store with an burglar alarm going off"?! "That is the best idea you have"? He quickly came up with another idea. "Lets you, me, and the car, get the hell out of here"! OK?, to me sounds great, or so much better than the first idea. He says, "You drive, and I will sit on the front corner to counter balance the missing wheel". He is a big guy, (well we both are, and he did not ask me to sit on the front) and it sounded excellent, but I was only focused on the part of "Getting the hell out of here!". So, the next thing I remember is I'm driving an PoPo calling, 3 legged TRIPOD, low on race gas, now overheating, no rear brakes, impossible to see around, fattish friend is sitting on the front (outside) corner, and there are sparks shooting out behind us like some big 4th of July roman candle 'cause half the rearend housing is dragging the pavement. I know I even passed a car on the way home. Pulled the car in the alley, he jumped, I downshifted, turned it off, and rammed the fridge in the shed to stop the car. It took a week before we stopped shaking. It took 6 months before I would go near the square. He painted the car another color. Never did find out where the tire actually went. Never heard a peep.....and that was OK with me.

Holy E36 M3! thats a AWESOME story. I'll tell my tale later when I have a moment! Best thread. keep'em coming

In reply to Giant Purple Snorklewacker:

I got thrown out of Peoria once, about 25-years ago. Seriously. As I recall, the officer's exact words were "You get your butts back in that truck and get back across the river!"(to Pekin).

It seems skateboarding was a crime after all. Unfortunately, I never skated(freestyle BMXer), but I was guilty by association.

petegossett wrote: In reply to Giant Purple Snorklewacker: I got thrown out of Peoria once, about 25-years ago. Seriously. As I recall, the officer's exact words were "You get your butts back in that truck and get back across the river!"(to Pekin). It seems skateboarding *was* a crime after all. Unfortunately, I never skated(freestyle BMXer), but I was guilty by association.

I've had to get a police escort out of Peoria.

The panty story is still the best one.

I have all my dad's service adviser stories. I'll share them on my radio show that starts next week. Maybe you guys can share yours too. I'll post after the show.

Enyar wrote: Back in high school I had just finished installing remote start in my Mustang and tried to show my friend how it worked. Unfortunately, I had left the car in gear and the car actually had enough grunt to not stall, and started driving down the street. I ran after it, hopped in and got it out of gear just before the end of the cul-de-sac and a row of mail boxes. OP's story is pretty epic!

This is why remote start on a manual scares the hell outta me.

Alright thought of one. In my teenage years I used to hang out with ricers. I never quite fit in.

(I have pics and video of this incident, I'll see what I can find later)

Anyway we were in a stadium parking lot late at night hours hooning about, one guy with a Suzuki Alto or some little car like that decides he's going to be the most awesome-stuntin' badass motherberkeleyer out there. First he starts ghost ridin' da whip and I know he's not the most responsible type when I see him do this. Then he starts doing some m4d tyt3 high-speed handbrake doriftus (and I have this on video somewhere), soon he gets what he had coming and slams the back-right wheel into a curb at probably over 60kph. It let out a bang that I'm sure could be heard for miles.

So we all gather around him and the guy's running about 30 degrees of positive camber on that wheel, Mr. Badass Stunt Man is now freaking out saying it's his girlfriend's car and he'll never be able to pay for it, so that was pretty funny. Here's a pic:

Then the other ricers try all kinds of stupid crap to fix the wheel like kicking the top really hard or pulling on the bottom spokes with a tow rope but nothing helped. One of the attempted kicks also hit his fender so that got damaged too. He just had to drive home reverse-demon-camber style.

Bump for more stories...

Once I got really drunk and entered an essay contest to win a Wartburg.....