Of cutting torches and a french car.

So the r8 is stranded helpessly upon it's roof as seen in the pictures below and my mission is to excise the front suspension parts. I eyeball all the rusty bolts in tight spots and am thinking merde, this is gonna suck to pull all this out of there.

Fire- man has harnessed it, refined it, put it under the yoke of sevitude. I shall impart the sevices of fire in my quest to remove the front bits of the forlorne renault. Out comes the cutting torch or as we affectionatly call it-the gas axe- and I proceed to divest the car of it's front cross member.

I cut something off the fire wall and lo- fire escapes it's yoke and rampages with feirce abandon. the floor matts are still glued to the floor and guess what,they like to burn.

shit


I walk into the shop calling out that I need a fire extinguisher. no on seems to care. so I request louder and the guys are all looking at me with blank stares.


Fire, what is this fire you speak of, describe this fire?


Me-the fucking car is burning!!!!!!!!! - quite loudly

one the guys peers out and sees that indeed there is oily black smoke belching forth from the inverted shell of the renault and decides that it is probaly not a bad idea to give me a fire fighting device.

Every one follows me out to observe my stunning skills at smothering rampant flames which at the point are pretty big and moocho intense. Takes about a minute but the job is done and the stench of burning rubber and extinguisher powder is quite prevalent.

The boys retire to the shop and I survey the craptacularness of the whole situation when up the alley come a dude to find out what is going on. This is the surreal part, the guy is in a french beret and one of those side ways striped french shirts and he even has a little french moustache but alas no french accent. This is kinda weird as I was burning a french car. fucked up world.

that is all I got.