Phun with Photoshop Corporate letters Bear Notch Road Emails from Heck


Ever wonder where those incredibly creative individuals who write those thrilling tales of road racing derring-do come up with their stories? Suffice to say, they are not always as truthful as they may appear at first. In fact, and I hate to be the bearer of  disillusioning news of this nature, sometimes the stories are nothing but fabrication.

I know, it’s shocking, but it is unfortunately often the case. Up until now we’ve only had hearsay evidence but we recently intercepted the following story compositor from a clandestine company know only as U-Rite-It. This particular example has been traced to no less than 32,456 different stories that have been published in various venues. Even worse, this is number 146 in the automotive fantasy series. Just how many exist is anybody’s guess, let alone what other arenas that they have penetrated.  Take a look at the following and we think that you’ll agree that this is an issue that has achieved, if not eclipsed, the importance of  nomex underwear upon the current fashion industry.



A.)   Roundel,


C.)   Penthouse Forum,

D.)   Mom,


I enjoy reading your

A.)  Website

B.)   Magazine

C.)  Letters

D.)  Mind


but I never thought that any of those

A.)  Whiney, complaining, overprivileged, yuppy stories

B.)   Phat kewl kar killz, Yo!

C.)  Ummm… like things? You know?

D.)  Outrageous, transparent, baldfaced lies


would ever happen to me. That is until last

A.)  Night

B.)   Summer

C.)  Sophomore Year

D.)  Testosterone fueled daydream.


I was

A.)  Cruisin’

B.)   Installing a 12” exhaust tip

C.)  Making my car hop around like a cockroach on crack, Yo!

D.)  Picking my rather commodious nose


with my

A.)   Favorite Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader

B.)   Pit Bull

C.)   Blue tip wrench

D.)   Tire Iron


in my

A.)  2001 Porsche 911 Turbo

B.)   BMW M3… no! make that an M5! WAIT ! As a matter of fact it was actually an M12! Yeah, that’s the ticket.

C.)  Ford Tempo of Doom

D.)  Dreams


when this guy in this

A.)   2001 Mustang GT Cobra

B.)   little Nash Rambler

C.)   Lamborghini 550 Maranello Carrera Targa Twin Turbo DOHC R-Type Vtec

D.)   Clown costume


started giving me the old

A.)  Stinkeye

B.)   Hairy eyeball

C.)  One eye

D.)  Newspapers and  bottles that he had in his shopping cart


Needless to say, I’m not one to back down from a

A.)  Challenge

B.)   Worthy opponent

C.)  Utter waste of time

D.)  Midget wielding a cocktail sausage


so I rolled down my window and started to

A.)   Rev the engine to 11,000

B.)   Turn up the stereo until major body parts were being freely shed by the car

C.)   Remove my fist from my right nostril

D.)   Glare hungrily at the cocktail sausage.


My adversary just

A.)   Laughed

B.)   Smiled and coyly turned away, painfully aware of the look of longing on my face yet too shy to admit to it. The scamp.

C.)   Poured another scotch

D.)   Continued to talk on his cell phone while ignoring his immediate surroundings


So we lined those bad boys up at the

A.)   Stoplight

B.)   Checkout counter at S Mart

C.)   Back bar, where it’s quieter, more intimate, away from the maddening crowd and omnipresent paparazzi

D.)   Bicycle rack behind the school. You know, the one near the playground where Bobby O’Leary broke his arm last year? Oh come on, you know where it is. Near the gym. Boy, you don’t know anything, do you. Such a loser!


and waited for the light to

A.)  Fade

B.)   You, know, like change and stuff

C.)  Break 186000 miles per second

D.)  Dawn



A.)  I saw the presidential staff

B.)   I launched my car for a near perfect ¼ mile time that had me spot on my bracket of 22.45. Perfect for a bone stock Pacer.

C.)  We popped phat  wheelies as the light changed and we gunned them beyotches. Yo!

D.)  I awoke in a puddle of drool


I had that baby floored as the tires were

A.)  Hunting for traction like a bloodhound on the trail of a killer in one of those made for TV movies about husbands who brutally murder their families for no apparent reason. They just suddenly go off. Like postal workers.

B.)   Firestone Radials that were making like West Point graduates and throwing their caps in the air.

C.)  Utterly disinterested in what was happening under the hood.

D.)  Much too large for my otherwise bone-stock car


My face was pushed out of shape from the force of the

A.)  16 valve, 47 Liter  TwinTurbo Supercharged Nitrous Alcohol Firebreathing  Monster motor I had stashed in the glove box

B.)   Dual 24” Kicker DubThumper MaxBass Speakers I installed in the headrest.

C.)  Mad Horsepowerz, Yo!

D.)  Last knuckle being remove from my nose.


but I held on for dear life. We were fighting for every inch, exchanging

A.)   The lead

B.)   Bodily fluids

C.)   Recipes

D.)   Gum


as we blasted our way down that highway to

A.)  A doom worse than fate

B.)   A better life. A better land. A place to hang our hat with just enough room to grow our crops. A place we call: Hoboken.

C.)  The sound of the motor lunching a con rod

D.)  Heck


We were neck and neck. It was now a matter of pure will. I knew I wasn’t going to back down and he

A.)  Wasn’t even aware that I was racing him.

B.)   Hung up the phone and proceeded to groom himself.

C.)  Yawned mightily and curled up for a long winter’s nap

D.)  Rubbed the deodorant pinetree under his arms.


As we approached the next set of lights, they were glowing red and it was at that critical moment that I made the decision to

A.)   ummmm… stop?

B.)   Come to a complete stop, check both ways for traffic and, providing there are no oncoming vehicles, turn right on red.

C.)   Consider professional wrestling as a positive career move

D.)   Wipe my finger on the dash.


We made it. We both survived. But there were no

A.)   losers

B.)   winners

C.)   laws broken cause it was only thirty feet between lights

D.)   Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders in my car. Nor are there ever likely to be.


that day. We had each given it our all and we each learned a little bit about ourselves. We had both earned each other’s respect and mutual

A.)  Funds

B.)   Masturbatory fantasies

C.)  Loathing

D.)  Of Omaha


And in that regard, there can be no

A.)  Whiney complaining overprivileged yuppy stories.

B.)   Cheerleaders in my life.

C.)  Garbled, incoherent English.

D.)  Satisfactory endings.




A.)  Paul in Santa Fe

B.)   Stewie in Cell Block D

C.)  Darryl in the Woodshed

D.)  Homesteader in Hoboken