Alas... I only enjoyed the Eliminator for one glorious year back in 1970. One day while dragging various takers there was a strange noise coming from under the hood. So I pulled the car on to a side street and raised the hood to look around. The front rad hose split open launching hot water and steam at me. It caught me from the head down to the crotch. As I tried to pull my head back from the engine compartment I clunked the back of my head on the nose part of the hood that hung down from it. Great story here... Ok... so here I am freshly scalded and my first thought is " ooooh oh... I better get home ". So I slammed down the hood, jumped in the car and raced at about 100 mph to my parents home. A police car gave pursuit when he spotted me. I pulled into a gas station. The cruiser pulled in behind the Eliminator. I sprung out of the Eliminator screaming more swear words then you could write down in a lifetime - rapid fire swearing. I ended the conversation by telling him to 'f... off' and jumped back into the car and sqeeled away in a blaze of steaming engine fluids and tire rubber. I guess my 'burned look' and the rant of swear words was enough to convince the officer not to bother me again. I made it to my parents driveway, pulled up to my normal parking spot and the engine suddenly died. The valiant - yet traitorous steed had gotten me home and died in my driverway. I walked into the house, announced that I had just been burned and then my memory lost six months of time while I recovered. The Eliminator had been sold by my father by the time I was in any position to ask about 'how it was'

After I wrote that other story, about the night me and the boys worked over that Z28, I also recalled another similar story that as a convertible owner you might enjoy. Me and the boys had gone out for an evening's entertainment at one of the areas largest nightclubs ( capacity of over 1000 people ). We didn't know the owners of this bar, but the bouncers were all good friends ;). Anyhow, we pulled into their huge parking lot, got out of the car and were walking towards the club when a yahoo in an MG Midget almost hit us in the parking lot. When we yelled at the moron, he simply flipped us the bird and swore at us in French. So we watched where he parked his little convertible. He must have seen us heading his way and so he made a dash into the nightclub. He had conveniently left the top of his convertible down ;). We looked up at the main lobby of the nightclub and we could see the little fellow excitedly trying to get the bouncers to look out the window at us - as I assume he thought we were posing a menacing danger to his car. He was right. We all unzipped and drained the several beers that we had earlier into the open cockpit of his convertible. Feeling greatly relieved we then went back our car and left for the local strip club. Suffice to say that we enjoyed a good chuckle when we returned to that same nightclub a few weeks later and our bouncer friends shared with us all the tales about how the little Frenchman had gone ballistic when he saw what we had done to his car. I suspect that something like five gallons of urine must be quite difficult to remove the smell of from a car ;)