The Showoff thread

In memory of Burt Reynolds, and because I remembered a fun one today, while driving the track truck:

The stock car track has an 87 Chev pickup.  First year of throttle body injector.  One race night, the guy supposed to be  driving the truck calls me over- it fires and dies, unless he keeps his foot on the gas pedal.  I said, "Wait.", went to my toolbox and got my biggest crescent wrench.  Walked back, took off the air filter, and gently tapped the idle speed motor with the giant wrench.. "Start it up." It did, and I walked away with my giant wrench.

What's your best Showoff moment?

I'm pretty un-humble when I pick up a spare (bowling). I can usually tell pretty early on if I got it and start walking back to my seat before the ball strikes. Not that I'm an excellent bowler, far from it, but in that moment I feel pretty good and usually let everyone know.

I was golfing. My chipshots were just awful that day. My ball was like 10 feet off the green. I told the guy i was with, "I'm just gonna hit it in from here" pulled out my putter, whacked it hard, up the hill, curves, back down the hill, in the cup. I picked up my ball and walked away like i never even doubted it.

I was eyeballing a parking spot in a particularly busy shopping center that just happened to be in front of a cafe with outdoor seating.  I pulled up and backed into the spot and got out to a small group of people clapping. Figuring it was sarcasm I checked to see how crooked I was in the spot, but they explained that some dude had just made about five attempts to back into that same spot before giving up and parking elsewhere. Not so much a display of my own skill as it was a comparison to an inept backer-upper, but it was funny.

Remembered another unexpected round of applause while driving, this one was in the snow which we don't get a ton of around here. I was driving to work, ('cause the bossman had decided that the bicycle shop needed to be open with 2" of snow on the ground) and even the flattest route there has one whopper of a hill on it that's more than 1/2 mile long. This one's right by a quarry. I get to the hill and there's vehicles scattered everywhere - trucks, vans, cars, the whole array up and down the hill. I'm driving an automatic '87 Chevy Celebrity with summer treads. I say berkeley it, I'm going for it. I waited for my path to clear (previous vehicle slid into the ditch) and put her in 2nd and gave her no gas whatsoever. I must have moved at a whopping 2mph, but she kept going. I get about 2/3 of the way up this long ass hill and I see a group of kids and I think man, they are probably bummed about all of these cars on this perfect sledding hill. Car keeps going and I pass more and more people who are just observers now that their cars are stuck. Then I realize I have made it the farthest and I'm almost there. The kids start cheering and jumping up and down. There are no other tracks in the snow going uphill at this point and I think to myself, am I really the first one to actually make it? Surely someone else was successful and went on their day leaving this mess behind. The kids' excitement said otherwise. I crested the hill, really only a passenger in a car that basically drove itself up the snowy hill, but it felt great. I waived and put her back in drive, and went to work.

I finished 5th in points in my first year of mini stock, but it was partially because it was the first season of the new track and there wasn't a lot of tough competition. During the off season a few really fast cars were built, and a lot of the faster guys from other tracks showed up at the two practice events. I had done a bunch of work too, and experimented with setups both nights and but did so rather poorly. The third practice night was canceled due to rain but I never got the call so me and another guy showed up. The track was fine, it was the pits that was a mess so the track owner let us go out. I must have run 250+ laps that night, got my setup (totally by accident), and was in mid season shape by the first race night. The fast cars were all set to battle each other. Nobody looked at me twice.

I lapped the field twice in a 20 lap feature.

I made bronze bushings for a guy's horizontal stabilizer, was going to install them later.  Got a call, he installed them but they didn't work so I have to go un-berkeley it; I really don't want to follow up some ham 'n egger messing with it.  OK  I get to the shop and there's like 10 people there, all pilots, one machinist but they all have an opinion.

The bushing hour glassed a bit when pressed in.  They tried files all kinds of stuff.  I asked for a 1/4" bolt and a hacksaw.

Cut the head off the bolt and then a slot down the centerline.  I folded emery into the slot and put the thing into a die grinder.  The WHOLE TIME some guy kept saying "That's not gonna work, that's not gonna work...".

Put it into the bushing, 4 seconds at 100,000 rpm took out the .0002 needed to let the mating pins slip right in.

Worked fine, hand shakes all around, except for THAT guy.  I haven't been able to do anything right since.....

I used to play tournament paintball in the early 90s. I was a "crawler"- fields were natural and thick back then, so you could sometimes get within a few feet of your opponents and take them out without them or the rest of their team realizing where the shot came from. It was incredibly important to do so, because you were usually in a very vulnerable position. The paint marker needed to be an extension of your body; most of the time you weren't in a position to aim. 

We were playing a mixed game with players from different teams just for fun, and we were waiting to reset for another game at our flag station. One of the other players in all the latest gear had a brand new marker, all done up with custom anodizing, a $300 barrel, and a red dot scope. As the other players were ooooing and aaaahhhing over his new toy, one of them asked how accurate it was.

"See that the knob in that dead tree branch over there?" He asked. 

(The tree was about 100' away, the branch was 30' up)

He carefully drew up to his shoulder, took aim...and...

Missed. About 6" above the branch. 

Lined it up carefully again... 4" low, and a little off to the right. 

During this time, I was quietly standing a few feet behind the group, listening with a bit of silent amusement. 

I casually took a couple steps forward, brought my stock barreled Illustrator F1 to my hip and took a single shot. 

Dead center. It was kinda cool to see some of the bark pop off the branch when the paintball hit. 

Then I turned around and silently stepped back to our flag station to wait for the signal to start the next game. 

At the end of a four day camping music festival in bfe, I heard an engine struggling to start for a while. I finally tracked it down to an older RV that a group of people were fiddling with looking hopeless. I asked if they wanted help and they said “yes, please!” I opened the engine cover and poked around for a bit and noticed no fuel coming out of the carb. I asked if they had a gas can - nope. Camp fuel? Yep! Poured an ounce down the carb throat, turned it over, and the engine came to life and purred. I diagnosed it as a failing mechanics fuel pump. I told them to keep it running until they get home. They tried to give me cash but I said save it for the fuel pump. I probably saved them a $500+ tow out of there. 

Every so often we get people coming into the shop who have just finished their restorations and can't get certain things to function. They stop in to pick our brains on things.

It has happened about 10 times now when people say " I have tried everything but the altermator/generator in my British whatever won't charge" without asking them anything I reach into a drawer of bulbs and hand them a single indicator bulb and say "take the LED out out of your charge indicator lamp and replace it with this"

They come back the next day wide eyed wondering how I knew they "upgraded" their dash lights and yes it now charges correctly.

In high school I started towards the dugout whenever I threw a slider in a 2 strike count with 2 outs. In 3 years it was fouled off twice. 

I played guitar for the Platters for a few shows when I was 17 or 18. Not the most difficult material, but it sure made the old man proud.

And there was the “Hold my beer while I FTD” autocross which may or may not have happened at the Mitty a million years ago.

20 years ago, I was dating a ski instructor. I'd been a skier since I was five, so this was cool. The place she taught at had a race league for adults, on Monday nights (sponsored by a beer company ). She convinced me to join a team, with a few guys from the ski school.

The league was bracket handicapped, so even slow people could score as many points as fast people. Now, I'm no slouch, but I was never a trained racer. So, I was usually in the second, sometimes third, bracket of the five. 

There were a couple guys who grew up racing, and one gal that was, a few years prior, a US Olympic team alternate. One guy in particular, Dave, was my target. I wanted to beat his time. Dave knew this. His wife knew this. Several others did, too.

He was the slowest of the first bracket. Points-wise, this wasn't good for my team, though, as I was typically fastest of second bracket (I'd score just as many points as Oly Girl).

On the last week, I got to the hill earlier than usual, and the guys from the team convinced me to have a few beers with them, before hitting the slopes. A few beers also meant a couple snorts of whiskey. 

Got a few runs in, before we had to hit the gates. I was feeling pretty loose.

I made my two runs. They felt wicked fast. As I was walking into the lodge, one of the ladies said, "Hey, I heard you beat Dave." "No E36 M3?" "Yeah, by a lot."

After the racing is done, we all hit the bar for free beer (remember, it's sponsored by beer) and since it was the end of the 'season', an award ceremony of sorts. Not only did I beat Dave, I had FTD! I even beat the Oly alt.

I got my driver's license in January . . . in Michigan.  My first car was a 74 Camaro . . . with bald tires.  350, manual transmission.  My parent's house was on a dirt road, which would freeze like a hockey rink if there was any sort of freezing rain.  Coming off the main road onto our street, there was a huge hill.  Part way up the hill, there was an underground spring that ran under the road, and would thaw about a 15 yard section of the road.  To get up the hill, especially if it was slick, you had to try to build speed at the base of the hill.  The problem was the wheels would get spinning, then you'd hit the thawed section and get launched.  (There was probably a smarter way to do this, but I was 16, so . . .)  One day I got launched especially hard and not particularly straight, and the car went into a hard spin.  It went around at least twice, maybe three times.  The last time around, I oppo locked it, dropped it a gear, gave it gas and recovered after a couple of crazy fishtails, all without ever really slowing down.  I was pretty pleased with myself, but couldn't tell anyone because I didn't want my parents to pull my license.  

Second was in almost the same place, with my Nissan truck.  I hit some unexpected ice and spun it.  It was headed into the ditch, which was lined by trees.  Partially by skill, partially by luck, I managed to slide it in between two trees with less than a foot on either side.  I turned to my passenger, made a "field goal" sign, backed it out of the ditch and went home.  

I thought about some experiences as a harness horse trainer, or veterinarian, and I have some great stories. Also, a halibut fishing trip, but this is my favorite.

I was working on my second career when I was in college. Kind of tough to get dates when you're in your mid thirties in a college town.

I introduced myself to the costuming professor when I met her in the bookstore. She was pretty close to my age and wasn't wearing a ring. She asked me to come by the shop, but when I followed up she told me she had a boyfriend. I excused myself as gracefully as possible and didn't return.

Months later, she passed by and I said hello. She told me about the show that was opening that night, and persisted in trying to get me to join her and her boyfriend for the show.

I didn't see the upside to that, and wasn't taking her up on it, when she said, "I have this friend...."

We've been married 23 years. Best thing that ever happened to me.

Saw a young guy in a beater 80’s Camaro with the hood up in a central Illinois rural gas station and it wouldn’t turn over. 

Not wanting to get too close I witness what’s going on and another dude says to  tap the starter.  He didn’t know where it was and with all my wisdom I mentioned that it was on the passenger side then I had to tell him it was under the exhaust manifold.  He taps, it starts, I leave.  

That’s all I got.  

Talking to a French expat guy who owns a bar around here and mention that I'm gonna do gradschool Korean.  He looks at me and says "you're gonna get killed. I'm way better than you and I struggled."

I'm a year in and my scores are at or near the top in every single class. Just to spice it up, one of the classes is in Chinese half the time. Went back to the guy's bar, incessantly humblebragged, said it sucks how much he struggled and mentioned that I feel guilty because I'm having so much more fun than he did. :)

(Footnote: I'm a petty, petty shiny happy person.) 

Automotive version. My friends when I was a kid always used to bug me for help on their cars. For the non electrical stuff this was never a problem. However, I positively suck at electrics. 

Anyway, one day a friend kept bugging me to look at his old Chevy Truck and I decided to show off. Yes it was a electrical fault. No, I had no idea how to fix it. No, that didn't stop me trying. A small electrical fire later and my reputation was secure. 

Managed a bank branch that had a real estate department in The Great White North many years ago - long ago enough that there were still pin printers and tractor feed forms. 

It seemed like our real estate form printer was constantly broken.  One day, had the service guy in for more than seven hours working on the printer and, when I got in the next morning, one of the real estate ladies was cursing at it yet again.  That morning, it was very cold and very dry; great static weather.  The printer was sitting on a plastic pad to protect the carpet.

I walked over and ask what was going on and got a report about the "d*mn printer", so I told her I thought I could fix it.  Proceeded to stand on the carpet, lay my hands on the printer, said "Be healed!", then told her to try it.  She said, "No, you didn't do anything!", but I finally convinced her to try printing her forms again.

Of course, it worked and she levitated out of her chair in shock.  For the rest of the time I worked there, I would catch her giving me suspicious sidelong glances.

Never did tell her I had just grounded the printer and killed the built up static...

In reply to CJ :

Printer Jesus intercede for us!

Now for my fish story: 1991, I was visiting friends in Homer, Alaska. Went out on a halibut charter. The captain was a retired Coast Guard captain, the other three customers were an active duty Coast Guard officer, with his girlfriend and her neighbor.

They were regulars, as I was told repeatedly on the way out. They would catch lots of fish, but as I was the "warm water grouper fisherman," I shouldn't expect much. I was told to watch them, and hopefully I might get it figured out before we came in.

I struck up a conversation with the other guy; learned that he was the Ops Boss for the Exxon Valdez clean up. He proceeded to tell me that it was a small spill, and that there really wasn't much of an effect on the environment. 

I didn't buy that, and I believe that history has proven him wrong. Still, while I kept my mouth shut on that topic, I didn't have a favorable impression of him, at all. 

After we set up on the anchor, the four of us dropped our baits. In the next hour, I caught five halibut. 175, 156, 110, 90, and 65 lbs. Five baits, five fish. Never more than five minutes waiting for a hit.

No one had ever caught a bigger combined total on that boat. The captain wanted to know if I would come back to fish with him during the commercial season.

The women had a great day also; they caught five between them, all big fish with the largest about 75 lbs. 

There was so much weight in the boat that it couldn't get on plane.

The other guy got skunked, and made it plain to all that he was having the worst day of his life.

I have no money. SWMBO knows and understands this. She and I got together over steampunk projects. So, I made her an engagement ring out of copper wire and the guts of a wind up watch. People ask her all the time where she got it. Blows their mind when she tells them I made it. 

In reply to Appleseed :

Dude, that's awesome! 

Now for my horse racing tale. 

My first job on the track was for a big stable that had some really top horses. I worked there for a total of five years. A couple of years after I left, I was at Vernon Downs in upstate NY. 

I had tried to buy some cheap horses to drive myself after leaving the big outfit, but the track where I was going to race had closed. I sold off one of the horses, and took the other one to Vernon. 

She went lame in a qualifying race, and I was broke with no hope of getting her sound again. I took a job as a groom, taking care of four horses for $110 a week. The usual work load would be two, or rarely three horses per groom, and many of the best horses were one per groom. Still, I had to eat, and so did my horse. Obviously, money was really tight on a $75 paycheck.

One night I went to the barn where I kept my mare, to discover that all of my straw bedding and half of my hay was gone. Someone had shipped in with a horse during the night, and helped themselves. 

When I went to the barn the next morning, I learned that horse was one of the best pacers in the country. The owner and trainer were from Ontario, they were prepping the horse for a comeback, and so they had brought him to Vernon for an easy race before taking him to the Meadowlands. And... they needed a groom who could also train him. I slotted right into that.

The Meadowlands is a track in NJ, right across from NY City, and has the toughest racing in the world.

It so happened that the big outfit I had started with also brought a horse for an easy race that week. They based out of Vernon in the summer, and were the biggest stable on the grounds.

Their horse had been racing in the open pace (the top class) at the Meadowlands, and was sitting on a ​​​​​sixteen race win streak. Sixteen races in a row, against the best pacers in the world. I knew the horse well, having helped start his training as a yearling, as well as training him a few times after he was racing. He was going to be driven by his owner, who was a real big shot at Vernon Downs. This was the owner's chance to show off in front of his home crowd.

When I walked into the paddock that night, the other groom loudly proclaimed, "This horse will not be beat tonight!" I had known him for years, so I just set up my stall, rigged my horse, and sent him out to warm up.

My horse won, while also breaking the track record for aged pacers. And, don't forget, breaking the sixteen race win streak.

I was back at Vernon several years later, and was amused to see that his record never got posted on the sign in front of the grandstand. Lots of hurt feelings that night. 

RealMiniNoMore said:

In reply to Appleseed :

Dude, that's awesome! 

Absolutely!

Went to the Mitty with my boss and another co-worker. Told them I was going to hunt down Brian Johnson since I knew he was usually there racing with the Predator guys. They chuckled and said good luck with that. I came back with this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9aXY5BMkvk

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The best part? I snookered CNN. Off behind me was a VERY pissed of full blown camera crew waiting to interview Mr. Johnson, but I got to him first so they had to wait.

Trackday, Hallett, in the rain in R888s. My buddy is in the passenger seat (who is a much better driver than I am)

Running CCW, normal direction, car got loose going into The Bitch, so I proceeded to just gently walk it sideways to the top and keep going.

"How did you do that?"

"No idea, I'm just driving."