Beemer2 crashes into the General
1994. After the demise of the much loved but tragically totaled Saab Rocket, I looked around for a less expensive solution to high speed touring. A solution that would maintain the cool image that I had hoped to become accustomed too. The solution that presented itself was an '84 BMW 323. This was a German spec car, without the pollution control requirements of it's American export cousins, so it had ~30% more horsepower.
It's near-demise came in the Winter of '94. Had not yet learned that snow tires really are a hellova lot more useful then big fat (and of course, "cool") Z-rated autobahn tires.
Beemers of this year didn't have any kind of trick posi-traction or anything. It really had only one drive wheel, the left-rear. One day found me driving home thru fresh snow, after another day of "being an army of one".
And I started screwing around.
I found that just by goosing it a bit, I could go into a spin on demand. Seemed pretty cool at the time. It was about a 10mi drive just to get off the base. And there wasn't a car as far as the eye could see as I fooled around on the road that ran through the base's rolling hills.
On each incline I'd goose it, go into a slide and then hone my "slide recovery techniques". Oh, the folly of youth.
I got a little more aggressive (or more stupid, depending on your vantage point) each time.
Then on one particular incline I goosed it and went into one more slide. Another slow sideways slide up the hill. Up to the top of the hill.
Over the top of the hill.
Hmm. That was unplanned..
Then I was going down the other side of the hill. And of course, still sideways.
Wasn't moving very fast, but then I wasn't slowing down any either. Sideways.
Then I saw the other car.
Plain looking sedan with 2 folks in it. Surely, I thought, they'll recognize what's happening, come to a stop and slowly back away. At least until my slide has stopped.
They did indeed stop. But they didn't seem to understand the second part of the plan. The part where they slowly back away. Chit.
No combination of turning into the slide and applying clever braking patterns seemed to be doing any good.
I slid closer and closer. It was an elderly couple. She was driving. He might be in the Army like me. Sure wish they'd back up a bit.
Her eyes were wide as saucers. He just looked disgusted.
Closer and closer. If they don't hurry up and backup a bit, this is going to be embarrassing.
I could see her knuckles, clenching white on on the steering wheel.
I was hosed.
CRUNCH. My front fender smashed into her bumper and grill..
The passenger gets out and puts his hat on. Good Christ, could it be? Oh fudge me to tears.
It is the Commanding General.
I jumped out and assumed a properly subordinate pose.
"Ah, sorry sir".
"CPT Gress, you are truly an asshole".
"Ah, yessir" <insert tone of resignation>.
The Porsche Speedster
The 911T Targa
The Saab Rocket