For me it was in this bad boy. As a rite of passage, every old set of tires got burned up before they were replaced. A viking burial of sorts. About 4 years ago, in front of my parent's house, it was that time again. My folks live on a decent sized hill, and the neighborhood was empty enough where the neighbors would not be bothered.
It was a glorious job, I managed to smoke them through 1st and 2nd gear, all while holding a camera phone out of the window.
4 years later the marks still remain, and my parents wonder why the always seem to reappear any time I stop by and mention that I have to get new tires soon.
Sadly I have long lost the phone I recorded it all on.
What's your story?
