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Lol. Thank You Wayne.
FBBO Benefit Auction for @moparedtn!
- Thread starter CudaChick1968
- Start date
I will bid $50.00 on the 750 Holley
post #255
post #255
Bb70charger500
Well-Known Member
Well then I'll throw $10 on #31 the 72 repair manual
And $10 on #39 the beer stein
And $10 on #39 the beer stein
Bb70charger500
Well-Known Member
Ok guys now I'm stealing the book and stein! Poke poke !
I know there's a bunch of beer drinkers on here! How many have a cool Mopar beer Stein?
I know there's a bunch of beer drinkers on here! How many have a cool Mopar beer Stein?
I’m going 50 on the mistress of metal
gift certificate
gift certificate
Paul Wilson
Well-Known Member
Wanted to put this CD up for auction. My good friend Lewis Perkins and I have been writing music since the 6th grade. We have a
website (perkandwilliemusic.com) that has our catalogue of music so far. It is free. Hope someone can enjoy it.
Bb70charger500
Well-Known Member
Ok $10 on 34 the battery cables!
Whos gonna add a zero to my number?
Whos gonna add a zero to my number?
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Last edited:
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*raises hand* I married one - and I ARE one!
Well, I used to be anyways....
#screwabunchofdistinguishedgray
I will go $60.00 on the Factory 72 service manual.Post #46
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Growing up my brothers nickname was carrot top.
roadrunner69440
Well-Known Member
I’ll go $30 on 218 please
$50 on #39 Beer stein
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I want to take a moment to acknowledge someone who snail mailed me a wonderful
letter of encouragement and hope that I received today.
This person (who I don't know the FBBO screen name of, sorry to say) wishes to remain
anonymous and I'll certainly honor that request.
That said, "BJS".... what you are is nothing short of an angel, my friend.
He's a Godsend, a friend who doesn't want to see anyone, leave alone one of us here on
FBBO, go through having to lose their "baby" in order to survive - and yes, several have,
as many of you know.
He took the time to handwrite quite the eloquent message and good old fashioned mail it...
and again I sit here, humbled beyond words and grateful as hell.
THANK YOU "Mr. Anonymous"!
I haven't even tried to handwrite a letter in decades - but I'm going to now.
Ok, the long-promised "Ed story" will be up in a bit after I gather myself up off the floor - again.
Thank you and God bless all of you for what you continue to do here!
Ed
letter of encouragement and hope that I received today.
This person (who I don't know the FBBO screen name of, sorry to say) wishes to remain
anonymous and I'll certainly honor that request.
That said, "BJS".... what you are is nothing short of an angel, my friend.
He's a Godsend, a friend who doesn't want to see anyone, leave alone one of us here on
FBBO, go through having to lose their "baby" in order to survive - and yes, several have,
as many of you know.
He took the time to handwrite quite the eloquent message and good old fashioned mail it...
and again I sit here, humbled beyond words and grateful as hell.
THANK YOU "Mr. Anonymous"!
I haven't even tried to handwrite a letter in decades - but I'm going to now.
Ok, the long-promised "Ed story" will be up in a bit after I gather myself up off the floor - again.
Thank you and God bless all of you for what you continue to do here!
Ed
Paul Wilson
Well-Known Member
I would like to put up for bid a pair of engine callouts for 1968 GTX/RR. I made these and they are of 1/8 inch aluminum with black numbers and the remainder is polished
(this pair needs cleaning).
(this pair needs cleaning).
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*drool!*
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"GEORGE"
Who wants to read a story?
The following is a TRUE story, as happened back almost 40 years ago....
I was a college student in those days and my father oftentimes would
find his friend/co-workers' cars for me to work on (and earn some extra bucks).
One such friend was named "George", who lived in a very nice townhome subdivision
in Alexandria, VA. George was considerably older, maybe 70 or so, and was a very nice
gentleman who was, shall we say, somewhat absent-minded.
One of nicest people you'd ever want to meet and a favorite of mine for working on his car.
On to the story!
One time, George made arrangements for me to come fetch his car (a gorgeous 1977
Olds Cutlass Supreme) and do some routine maintenance on it one Saturday - leaving my
own ratty, rusty old silver '73 Cutlass "S" for him to run errands in for the day.
I came and fetched his car early that Saturday morning and we exchanged keys....
I jumped in his car and took it back to my house, leaving mine behind.
Now, George's Cutlass was gorgeous. Blue metallic, landau vinyl half roof, fully dressed out
inside with all the options and sporting a leather bucket seat interior - and less than 20k
miles. A true cream puff!
My own Cutlass was another story. Mechanically, I had it in good running order, but it was
a Michigan car originally, meaning it had a few extra "ventilation ports" from salt, along with
considerably higher mileage.
You wouldn't lose it in a crowd for sure.
I spent the day doing various maintenance items on George's car and when it came time to
return it to him that Saturday evening, I had a friend along with me - the idea being to get paid
by George, fetch my own corroded ride back and hit the town for some Saturday night fun!
Off we went back to George's place, right about dusk....
Well....things didn't quite go off without a hitch upon our arrival at George's.....
As we pulled up in George's neighborhood, we didn't see my car parked anywhere. No biggie;
George had told me he needed to run to the neighborhood market, so we figured he just hadn't
made it back yet and waited in a nearby parking space for sign of my trusty steed.
Another half hour rolls by and still no rusty Olds....and then I notice a light come on in George's
house, so we curiously go knock on the door.
Sure enough, good ol' George answers with a big grin and welcomes us in.
Eh, he must have had to park around the corner or something, I thought.
Uh, nope. Not at all....
We get done talking about George's car, he hands me some cash and we exchange keys.
Nice as I could be, I ask "by the way, George....where'd you park my car?"
"Why, what do you mean, Ed? It's sitting right out front!" G says.
Uh no, George....it isn't.
"Sure it is! Gee Ed, you walked right by it!"
Uh no, George, I didn't.
"Oh for heavens sake, come on, I'll show you!" G says and out the door we go....
to a clapped out purple Duster!
Uh George, that ain't my car....
I try my best to remember that George isn't exactly all there anymore and to remain as polite
as I could, all the while inside starting to panic and thinking my car got stolen!
George grabs my keys, jumps in the purple Plymouth and starts it right up - with my GM key!
George, I have a silver Cutlass, not a purple Duster!!!
Now it's George's turn to panic. He jumps out of the accidentally purloined Duster (which had
started right up by inverting my GM key!) and commences excitedly hollering about how he was
going to jail for grand theft auto and how my dad would never forgive him and....and...he was
going to call the police RIGHT AWAY and...and...
Woah, George, easy now. It's obviously a mistake. We'll take care of it.
My friend looks at me like "Who's WE, paleface?"
Yep, we will....and George, this will be our little secret. Pop doesn't need to know.
"I'm going with you! I need to be there to take the rap when the police show up!"
Woah, no George. No way in hell. You stay right here, we got this.
I felt so bad for poor old George - and being young and dumb, I figured hey, no big deal, we'll just
go back to the market and find my car, right?
Yeah well, not so easy....this was Fairfax County, a suburb of Washington DC.
Place was usually crawling with cops, everywhere - and they'd certainly be nearby on reports of a
stolen car.
Well, turns out....they were. Several of them. For quite a while, as it turned out.
Our stealthy young arses went the back way back to the local market and scoped the joint.
It was now night time and the little strip center was dark, all the stores closed, everyone gone....
Parking lot empty, except for one certain rusty Olds Cutlass, parked all by itself under a street
light.
Couldn't have been more exposed if you tried....and looking for all the world like bait for a cop trap.
Which it was, of course.
We decided to stake the joint out and outlast the cops, so we did....for hours.
Finally, around midnight, we hadn't seen any patrol cars for a while and swiftly made our move,
pulling right up alongside the Cutlass, wiping down everything we (and master thief George!) might
have touched in that ratty old Plymouth, then jumped in my Cutlass and hauled ***, using every back
road in Fairfax County outta there....
It was a long night, turns out.
Months later, my dad out of the blue one day tells me George has finally "lost it" and had been telling him
a crazy story about him losing my car and stealing another.
It seems George's conscience couldn't keep the secret after a while....
Pop asked me if I knew anything about such a story.
Naw Pop, you know George....
A few years later, I received word from Pop that George had passed quietly in his sleep.
I smiled, then cried at his funeral.
He was the best.
Who wants to read a story?
The following is a TRUE story, as happened back almost 40 years ago....
I was a college student in those days and my father oftentimes would
find his friend/co-workers' cars for me to work on (and earn some extra bucks).
One such friend was named "George", who lived in a very nice townhome subdivision
in Alexandria, VA. George was considerably older, maybe 70 or so, and was a very nice
gentleman who was, shall we say, somewhat absent-minded.
One of nicest people you'd ever want to meet and a favorite of mine for working on his car.
On to the story!
One time, George made arrangements for me to come fetch his car (a gorgeous 1977
Olds Cutlass Supreme) and do some routine maintenance on it one Saturday - leaving my
own ratty, rusty old silver '73 Cutlass "S" for him to run errands in for the day.
I came and fetched his car early that Saturday morning and we exchanged keys....
I jumped in his car and took it back to my house, leaving mine behind.
Now, George's Cutlass was gorgeous. Blue metallic, landau vinyl half roof, fully dressed out
inside with all the options and sporting a leather bucket seat interior - and less than 20k
miles. A true cream puff!
My own Cutlass was another story. Mechanically, I had it in good running order, but it was
a Michigan car originally, meaning it had a few extra "ventilation ports" from salt, along with
considerably higher mileage.
You wouldn't lose it in a crowd for sure.
I spent the day doing various maintenance items on George's car and when it came time to
return it to him that Saturday evening, I had a friend along with me - the idea being to get paid
by George, fetch my own corroded ride back and hit the town for some Saturday night fun!
Off we went back to George's place, right about dusk....
Well....things didn't quite go off without a hitch upon our arrival at George's.....
As we pulled up in George's neighborhood, we didn't see my car parked anywhere. No biggie;
George had told me he needed to run to the neighborhood market, so we figured he just hadn't
made it back yet and waited in a nearby parking space for sign of my trusty steed.
Another half hour rolls by and still no rusty Olds....and then I notice a light come on in George's
house, so we curiously go knock on the door.
Sure enough, good ol' George answers with a big grin and welcomes us in.
Eh, he must have had to park around the corner or something, I thought.
Uh, nope. Not at all....
We get done talking about George's car, he hands me some cash and we exchange keys.
Nice as I could be, I ask "by the way, George....where'd you park my car?"
"Why, what do you mean, Ed? It's sitting right out front!" G says.
Uh no, George....it isn't.
"Sure it is! Gee Ed, you walked right by it!"
Uh no, George, I didn't.
"Oh for heavens sake, come on, I'll show you!" G says and out the door we go....
to a clapped out purple Duster!
Uh George, that ain't my car....
I try my best to remember that George isn't exactly all there anymore and to remain as polite
as I could, all the while inside starting to panic and thinking my car got stolen!
George grabs my keys, jumps in the purple Plymouth and starts it right up - with my GM key!
George, I have a silver Cutlass, not a purple Duster!!!
Now it's George's turn to panic. He jumps out of the accidentally purloined Duster (which had
started right up by inverting my GM key!) and commences excitedly hollering about how he was
going to jail for grand theft auto and how my dad would never forgive him and....and...he was
going to call the police RIGHT AWAY and...and...
Woah, George, easy now. It's obviously a mistake. We'll take care of it.
My friend looks at me like "Who's WE, paleface?"
Yep, we will....and George, this will be our little secret. Pop doesn't need to know.
"I'm going with you! I need to be there to take the rap when the police show up!"
Woah, no George. No way in hell. You stay right here, we got this.
I felt so bad for poor old George - and being young and dumb, I figured hey, no big deal, we'll just
go back to the market and find my car, right?
Yeah well, not so easy....this was Fairfax County, a suburb of Washington DC.
Place was usually crawling with cops, everywhere - and they'd certainly be nearby on reports of a
stolen car.
Well, turns out....they were. Several of them. For quite a while, as it turned out.
Our stealthy young arses went the back way back to the local market and scoped the joint.
It was now night time and the little strip center was dark, all the stores closed, everyone gone....
Parking lot empty, except for one certain rusty Olds Cutlass, parked all by itself under a street
light.
Couldn't have been more exposed if you tried....and looking for all the world like bait for a cop trap.
Which it was, of course.
We decided to stake the joint out and outlast the cops, so we did....for hours.
Finally, around midnight, we hadn't seen any patrol cars for a while and swiftly made our move,
pulling right up alongside the Cutlass, wiping down everything we (and master thief George!) might
have touched in that ratty old Plymouth, then jumped in my Cutlass and hauled ***, using every back
road in Fairfax County outta there....
It was a long night, turns out.
Months later, my dad out of the blue one day tells me George has finally "lost it" and had been telling him
a crazy story about him losing my car and stealing another.
It seems George's conscience couldn't keep the secret after a while....
Pop asked me if I knew anything about such a story.
Naw Pop, you know George....
A few years later, I received word from Pop that George had passed quietly in his sleep.
I smiled, then cried at his funeral.
He was the best.
75$ for the coozie
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