Originally Posted by: earthman buckSorry, I should've checked. Usually I do check, this time it slipped my mind.[/QUOTE]

It's cool, I was just yankin your chain....... :D

[QUOTE=PonyOne]that was actually the only generation of F-body I didn't like... all the others are pretty cool. i've toyed with the idea of getting a Camaro of some sort and going nuts on the engine... primarily because I like irony. Irony in the sense that who do you picture driving an Iroc or a Berlinetta? For me it's:

A) some Fred Durst wannabe
B) some guy in his 30's, skinny, kind of looking like a meth addict or something, with skinny hairy arms with veins popping out, and a mullet, little moustache and Wayfarers, but not because they're retro. no. they have always been cool in this man's world, along with his Harley and REO Speedwagon shirts.
c)Todd from Beavis and Butt-Head


well, if i had one, yeah, it'd have 3.73 gears, a Quaife LSD, a short throw shifter with a double plate centerforce clutch (i'm sorry, the 400R tranny is awesome but NO, i need a clutch), the 5.7 would be overbored a few and i'd have some JC pistons in there, a Demon carb with some insane flow amount, some Lunati cams and all the other crap to make it go fast, plus some of those things the Japanese have perfected that make high HP engines last, like having a cooler for every fluid that needs it (oil, tranny, etc).

preferrably, i'd like to see it white with gunmetal rims and a mostly black interior with red seats and door inserts, because black on red and white on red are the most awesome sports car color combos. i'd put AutoGlym polish on it compulsively, to keep that perfect mirror shine on it. And of course you can't have anything but a Flowmaster on the back, to keep that throaty V8 rumble of death that just bellows "USA!!!" when you tear into the throttle.

And this would haul ass up and down the boulevards in LA, seeking out new prey, driven by me: liberal vegetarian, Jewish-ish, thinly muscled with big freakin arms, my trendy, tussled-puppy dog hair blowing in the wind that filters through the t-tops, my prescription Oakley glasses focusing the road in front of me so i can see all the pathetic motorists i'll slaughter with my l33t Z28. Yeah that's right, I said l33t, and i'll rock a zed dos ocho. Yeah. Toeing into the gas with my oxblood DocMartens, dumping the clutch, my Asian girlfriend with her dreds gripping my super trendy rugby shirt in terror as my White Lightning strikes, leaving two patches of Pirelli P-Zero in its wake, then sliding down to my Rampage for Men jeans, oooohhh yeah, the strains of Jaqueline by Franz Ferdinand blasting into the night like FIRE from an M1911 into the sunset as I lay waste to modified Hondas and a couple Porsches.

Or something like that.