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The Cure for a Shitty Day.

Posted in Dodge, Domestic Rides, Featured, Rides by MrAngry | March 2nd, 2011 | 12 Responses |

1969 Dodge Daytona

Ever have one of those days where shit just doesn’t go your way? Yeah, well, welcome to my world. My shitty day actually started on Monday morning where seemingly nothing was working right. The site (as you may have noticed) was all sorts of buggy thanks to a little behind-the-scenes glitch, I spilt an entire cup of coffee into my keyboard and to top it off it was cold as balls and pouring outside. Combine that with the fact that I’ve been kooked-up in the house all winter and it’s actually a God damned miracle that I didn’t go crazy Brooklyn style on someone. Honestly, this was not how I wanted to start my week. It was 40 degrees out yesterday and thanks to the previous days rain, all the remaining snow and salt had finally been washed away. I woke-up, banged out a bunch of content for the day and then decided to get the hell out of Dodge for the afternoon. After much consideration I decided that it was time to get the Daytona out of its winter hibernation and headed to my garage with the keys in hand. I hadn’t even cranked it since before Thanksgiving so I was skeptical if the battery even held a charge.

1969 Dodge Daytona

I pulled back the cover, opened the door and got in. Now for those of you who don’t know, the Daytona has a 500 + hp 471 cu in stroker motor with a big 850 double-pumper carburator on top. That means that cold weather starts are generally not your friend. Regardless though, I pumped the pedal three times, turned the key and… absolutely nothing happened. I mean it cranked, but there was no vroom-vroom to speak of. I pumped it a few more times, cranked it again and was treated to a nice little sputter – I was getting close. Now I was just praying that the battery still had enough juice for one more round and thankfully, on the third time, the old boy fired-up.

1969 Dodge Daytona

Now for those of you into muscle cars I can tell you that there is no sweeter sound then that of a well-tuned big block coming to life. I sat there slowly giving it juice until it settled into a nice lopey idle… God I love this car. The next 3-hours were spent cruising down the highway with 40 degree wind gushing through the open windows and the Rolling Stones blaring from the stereo. I blasted into the triple digits multiple times, ripped through some stellar back roads and then finally, 150 miles later, decided that I was feeling ok. Ladies and gentlemen, I had found the cure for a shitty day. It was 20-feet long with a nosecone, 4-foot wing and enough fuel to drive me right out of my funk.

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