hehehe..well, this is more of a kill story than a burnout, but since you asked, I'll answer rather than start a new thread...
YEARS ago, I was dating a REALLY hot blonde (Tracey....me-ow!) and she really didn't know much about muscle cars, or Mopars in particular, other than it got a lot of attention (which she liked). One afternoon, while heading down town, I was on Preston Street here in Ottawa. Well, Preston Street is AKA "Little Italy" here. While sitting at a light, a red Testarossa passed the 5 or so cars behind me, and pulled into the right turning lane, squealing to a halt. It was obvious that he was gunna use the turning lane to cut in front of the line...or so he thought. I had NEVER flexed the Challenger's muscles with Tracey in the car, out of respect, but this greasy Italian was checkin her out. It was HILARIOUS!!! Greasy black hair, aviator sunglasses, and the leather driving gloves. He pursed his lips at Trace, making kissy faces, so she turned to me and just said "smoke him". I was never more attracted to a girl in my life!! The light went green, and I was through the intersection before he was passed the white line...naturally, I slowed next to the curb long enough to cut him off from getting behind me, and allowing the other cars to catch up, so this idiot was stuck waiting for all of the other cars behind me to pass, while he sat there with his blinker on trying to get in. hehehehe!
ahhhhhhhh good times...
