If you have an "Automotive Minded" person in you life, these
gift suggestions should be considered.
1. Tire Air Change Kit. This kit comes with everything you
need to change the air in your tires. This highly
recommended but often overlooked maintenance item is much
easier now. Remember to change your air every 3000 miles or
twice a year. $25
2. Blinker Fluid. You knew it existed but, WOW, is this
stuff hard to find. 4oz bottle. $12
3. Synthetic Blinker Fluid. Better yet! 4oz bottle. $24
4. Light Bulb Filaments. Why throw away a perfectly good
turn signal or stop light bulb when you can just install a
new filament? Premium Filaments, made in the USA! $1 each.
5. Manifold Heat. Yes, your exhaust manifold should be HOT.
If it's not, you may need this item. Sold by the pound.
$3.50
6. Steering Wheel Gaskets. All SIZES available! Email for
specific application. From $9.99
7. Tie Rod Tensioner. Is your tie rod limp? Tension it with
T-50! $14.99
8. Alternator Batteries. (4 required, replace them all!)
>From $2.99
9. Fan Belt Buckles. Specify brass or chrome. Gold available
special order. $14.99
10. Muffler Bearing Manual. Print version $59.95
11. Muffler Bearing Manual. CD version $49.99
12. Universal Muffler Bearing Tool Kit $105.59
13. Muffler Bearing Hi Temp Synthetic Lube (the only kind we
sell!) $40.24
14. Muffler Bearings From $19.95
15. Muffler Bearing Gasket Kits From $9.99
16. Momentum (required for tackling some off road
obstacles). Sold by the lb-ft/sec $0.50
17. Microsoft Windows Eliminator. If your car or truck
begins to run poorly, (long time to start, frequent crashes,
etc.), it's computer, (ecm, ecu, black box, etc.), may have
become infected with this nasty computer virus. This product
will safely remove the virus. $199
18. Mirror Image Flipper Film. Did you know that the image
you see in your rear view mirrors are reversed! This is a
manufacturing flaw that the auto companies have kept secret
for years as the recall would cost BILLIONS! This film can
be cut and placed over any mirror to correct the image. Now
you'll be able to read signs in the rear view mirror! $5 per
square ft.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the building committee refuses to provide funds for the purchase of a chandelier because none of the members knows how to play one.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... people ask, when they learn that Jesus fed the 5000, whether the two fish were bass or walleye, and what bait was used to catch 'em.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... when the pastor says, "I'd like to ask Bubba to help take up the offering," five guys and two women stand up.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... opening day of deer season is recognized as an official religious holiday.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... a member of the church requests to be buried in his 4-wheel-drive truck because "It ain't never been in a hole it couldn't get out of."
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the choir is known as the "OK Chorale".
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... in a congregation of 500 members, there are only seven last names in the church directory.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... Baptism is referred to as "branding".
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... high notes on the organ set the dogs on the floor to howling.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... people think "rapture" is what men get when they lift something too heavy.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the baptismal pool is a #2 galvanized watering tank.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the choir robes were donated by (and embroidered with the logo from) Billy's Ufdah Barbecue.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the collection plates are really hub caps from a Ford F150.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... instead of a bell, you are called to service by a duck call.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the minister and his wife drive matching pickup trucks.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the communion wine is Boone's Farm "Tickled Pink".
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... "Thou shalt not covet" applies to hunting dogs, too.
You Know Your Church Is A Redneck Church if... the final words of the benediction are, "Y'all come back now!! Ya Hear!"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Wrench Who Stole Racing
By Greg Engle
Cup Scene Daily
Then he went up the vent, the old liar.
On their walls he left nothing but some hooks and some
wire.
And the one speck of food that he left in the RV,
Was a crumb that was too small for even little John
Andretti.
Then he did the same thing to the other Fans RV’s
Leaving crumbs much too small for ANY John Andretti.
And last thing he did was climb the flag stand.
And took ALL the flags, red ,yellow, black, checkered
and green!
It was a quarter past dawn, all the Fans were still
a-dreamin’
The Fans still a-snorin’, when he packed up his old
Grand Prix.
Packed it up with all that Fan stuff. The Mark
Martin hats!
The Stewart t-shirts!
The die-cast cars!
The Dale Jarrett socks!
And finally the flags, red, yellow, black checkered
and green.
Up the side of Mount Rockingham, the old Wrench he did
climb.
His trunk piled high from his overnight snide.
He went to the top, and peered over the far edge,
And got ready to dump the bags over the ledge.
"Pooh-pooh to the Fans!" He was Wrenchly humming,
"They’re finding out that no racing is coming!"
"They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do!"
"There mouth’s will hang open a minute or two!"
"Then all the Fans down in Fan-ville will cry
BOO-HOO!"
"That’s a noise" grinned the Wrench, "That I simply
MUST hear!".
So he paused. And the Wrench put a tiny hand to his
ear.
And he heard a sound rising from the track way down
there.
It started in low.
Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn’t sad.
No BOO-HOO!
And he looked very hard at the track down below.
And saw them pushing RACE cars onto pit row!
The Wrench popped his eyes. Then he shook!
What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Fan down in Fan-ville, the tall and the small,
Was cheering! Why, they’d race after ALL!
He HADN’T stopped the race from coming. IT CAME!
Somehow or the other, they’d race just the same!
And the Wrench, with his wrenchy feet ice-cold in the
snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?
How could they still cheer?"
"They’ll race without hats! Without flags, without
root beer!"
"And yet, somehow, they’ll still put on a show.
Race ‘round the track, off they’ll go"
And he puzzled awhile, and puzzled and puzzled' till
his puzzler hurt so.
Then the Wrench thought of something he hadn’t before!
"Maybe racing, means a lot more, than hats, or
T-shirts or stuff from a store," he thought.
"Maybe the drivers going around head to head, racing
each other counting the laps that each have lead."
The Wrench screwed his mouth and looked up in the
air,"
Maybe at the end of 500 miles or more,
after racing each other close, door to door,
one-hundred ninety miles an hour, sometimes a little
more."
The Wrench rubbed his pointy, wrenchy chin.
"Hmm...A TRUE test of a man is how far and fast he
will go."
And what happened then? Well...in Fan-ville they say
That the Wrenches small hands grew three sizes that
day!
And the minute his steering didn’t feel so tight.
He whizzed, raced really, with his load through the
bright morning light.
And he brought back all the Fans’ things!
And he brought back the flags, red, yellow, black,
checkered and green.
And he...HE HIMSELF...! The Wrench dropped the green
flag from the flag stand that day,
But not before all the Fans heard him say:
"Gentleman start your engines! Let the racing get
underway!"
The End
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>From a friend: 'Twas The Night Before Christmas (as if
written by a technical writer for a firm that does US
government contracting)
'Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period
preceding the annual Yuletide celebration, and
throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity
was not in evidence among the possessors of this
potential, including that species of domestic rodent
known as Mus musculus. Hosiery was meticulously
suspended from the forward edge of the wood burning
caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory
pleasure regarding an imminent visitation from an
eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric
appellations is the honorific title of St. Nicholas.
The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in
their respective accommodations of repose, were
experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of
variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically
through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I,
attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to
take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness
when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the
grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance
that I felt compelled to arise with alacrity from my
place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the
precise source thereof.
Hastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the
barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon
that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was
on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation,
might be said to rival that of the solar meridian
itself - thus permitting my incredulous optical
sensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered
conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the
genus Rangifer, piloted by a minuscule, aged chauffeur
so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly
apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated
caller. With his ungulate motive power travelling at
what may possibly have been more vertiginous velocity
than patriotic alar predators, he vociferated loudly,
expelled breath musically through contracted labia,
and addressed each of the octet by his or her
respective cognomen - "Now Dasher, now Dancer..." et
al. - guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of
our abode, through which structure I could readily
distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32
cloven pedal extremities.
As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location,
and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our
distinguished visitant achieved - with utmost celerity
and via a downward leap - entry by way of the smoke
passage. He was clad entirely in animal pelts soiled
by the ebony residue from oxidations of carboniferous
fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof. His
resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to
the plethora of assorted playthings which he bore
dorsally in a commodious cloth receptacle.
His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity,
while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every
evidence of engaging amiability. The capillaries of
his malar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged
with blood which suffused the subcutaneous layers, the
former approximating the coloration of Albion's floral
emblem, the latter that of the Prunus avium, or sweet
cherry. His amusing sub- and supralabials resembled
nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their
ambient hirsute facial adornment appeared like small,
tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.
Clenched firmly between his incisors was a smoking
piece whose grey fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse
about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative
seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than
it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his
corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of
impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container.
He was, in short, neither more nor less than an obese,
jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of
whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every
effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering
and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head
slightly to one side, he indicated that trepidation on
my part was groundless.
Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced
filling the aforementioned appended hosiery with
various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise
extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally
transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of this
task, he executed an abrupt about-face, placed a
single manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his
olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a
gesture of leave-taking, and forthwith effected his
egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke
passage. He then propelled himself in a short vector
onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of
air through his contracted oral sphincter to the
antlered quadrupeds of burden, and proceeded to soar
aloft in a movement hitherto observable chiefly among
the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I
overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately
prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of
visibility: "Ecstatic Yuletide to the planetary
constituency, and to that self same assemblage, my
sincerest wishes for a salubriously beneficial and
gratifyingly pleasurable period between sunset and
dawn."
Versions of this article have been floating around the
Net for years. According to one visitor to this page,
"...this piece was compiled by students at the South
Dakota School of Mines and Technology in Rapid City,
South Dakota. The article was printed in the Rapid
City paper in December, 1983. I cannot recall the name
of the paper, but I still have my clipping of it from
that year so I do know from whence and where it
originated."
And Catherine writes, "As a graduate of South Dakota
School of Mines (SDSM&T) in 1978, I can tell you that
I found it in about 1974 at the University of South
Dakota (USD). I posted it on my dorm door at USD and
at SDSM&T. I recall I may have even read it when
working as a d-jay on KTEQ (the school's station).
Interesting that it ended up in the newspaper in Rapid
City. Who knows, it could have originally come out of
Mines."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks to WS: The Outhouse
Once there was a little boy who lived in the country.
They had to use an outhouse, and the little boy hated
it because it was hot in the summer, cold in the
winter, and stunk all the time. The outhouse was
sitting on the bank of a creek and the boy determined
that one day he would push that outhouse into the
creek.
One day after a spring rain, the creek was swollen so
the little boy decided today was the day to push the
outhouse into the creek. So he got a large stick and
started pushing. Finally, the outhouse toppled into
the creek and floated away.
That night his dad told him they were going to the
woodshed after supper. Knowing that meant a spanking,
the little boy asked why. The dad replied, "someone
pushed the outhouse into the creek today. It was you,
wasn't it, son?"
The boy answered yes. Then he thought a moment and
said, "Dad, I read in school today that George
Washington chopped down a cherry tree and didn't get
into trouble because he told the truth."
The dad replied, "Well, son, George Washington's
father wasn't
in that cherry tree."