Not Ranked
When I was 16, I was dropping off my girlfriend at her parent's house a few hours too late on a saturday night. She says, "Oh my god, it smells like gas." I take a look and there is a 4' puddle on her driveway. The rubber fuel line on my 69 camaro had ended up laying against the harmonic dampner which quicly rubbed a hole in it. Girl's father removed a 4' section of rubber line from his ranchero so I could repair my camaro, in his driveway, after midnight.
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In a fit of 16 year old genius, I looked down through the carb while cranking it to see if fuel was flowing, and it was. Flowing straight up in a vapor cloud, around my head, on fire.
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