++++++++the year was 1995, I was 15... and just got my permit.
Got pops to buy me my dream car of all time... a white 1991 Iroc Z convertible... with the promise not to drive it until I got my lic at age 15 1/2... car lasted about 2 weeks as I rammed it to the ass end of a trailer truck at some insane speed. Was doing a 100 MPH (for the first time in my life) looking down at the speedo just beyond myself at how cool I was... I had never gone that fast... speed limit was 45 and so as the way with these things, I came up on a extend left bend and got up on this truck before I knew it. Sad to say but that lovely 5.7 liter engine was sitting in the pass front seat moments later. (think my inexperience caused that accident because to this day I think I could of saved myself from it but I just kinda froze in space and time) after the crash, I walked out not knowing at the time that I had broke both arms, broke 3 ribs, broke my nose and the boxer bone on my right hand as well as a 2 inch gash on my inner thigh near my "wedding vegetables"... Truck driver looked like he had see a ghost. kept asking if it was only me in the car... I kept saying yes but he would not believe me. I kept saying that I was okay... he wouldn't believe that either... he decided to touch me to make sure I was good and I remember pushing him to the floor... ( I was pissed about my car and this fucker was touching me... what a jerk I was). He told me that he was an EMT, I told him I don't give a fuck and to get the fuck out of here!, I just kept screaming that to him. of course I was fearing police were on the way and my not having a lic. would get me thrown in jail for sure. He wouldn't leave.. I tried to get back into the camaro (don't know why) but I could not open the door... The poor truck driver insisted that he drive me home... I was like fuck you!... you made me fuck my car up... (I was just frightened about the whole thing at this point and wanted him gone). He says, I wont call the police if you let me take you home. I agreed. He took me home and the first sight of my dad watering the lawn made me sick to my stomach. I jump out of the 18 wheeler and my dads looking at me like what the fuck happened... then at the looks at the truck driver with the same look... the truck driver gets out and gets to my pops faster than I could. Says a few words to my pops really up close. I think he must of said that I should of been dead or something like that and that I was super scared... anyway, I was standing on the sidewalk about 10 feet away scared that I was about to get the ass whopping of a life time remembering only 3 years back when I stuffed my dads 1983 Chevy impala into the kitchen via the garage door and the wall separating the garage from the kitchen... that too was after I had been warned not to take my pops car anymore... I had been stealing his car since 10 years old for the trill of an unauthorized drive around the block. anyway, back to the story... I stood away because I wanted enough space to get a lead start in the event that pops tried to rush me... lol. Pops looks at me and says, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS INSIDE!... I did without even thinking (lol. fear is a wonderful thing). Mins later, He tells my moma in a loud tone that hes going to get the car... loud enough for me to hear... I get up to leave with him and for the first time in my life he looks at me with a stare that I will not ever forget and says if you move even an inch from your room, so help me god!... I sat there in my room feeling more and more pain all over my body with every passing min. Pops got back in about 20 mins later and didn't say a word to me... even took me to the hospital. Later that night I caught my moma kiss me after I feel asleep. As A parent now, I can only imagine what he was thinking about my escape from certain death.
fast forward 6 months, got my pops to buy me a mustang 5.0... he was hesitant but I promised to be good. Needless to say but that car lasted on about two weeks too as i burned the motor and clutch as well as the rear end from doing launches and burn outs. Pops refused to buy me another car.. so I went and bought myself a 1992 GSXR 750. Soon as I pulled up with the bike, my moma became hysterical demanding the keys to the bike and crying unbelievably. She called my pops at work and he came home in 10 mins and whopped that ass to a pulp for making my moma cry. It was the last time he beat me...
weeks went by... was riding my bicycle and hating life...
my bro who is 8 years older, yes same one that you guys were mad at for raping my c140 in the two months he had it, had bought a white 1992 w140 500 sel used but only 2 or 3 years old at the time. He got it not too long before my mustang fiasco... a car that he still has today with over 250k on the dial btw... anyway, I remember after a while with no car or bike and seeing how depressed I was, he took me to the MB dealer with him and ordered a new key and a key chain... when the key came in a few days later, he gave them to me and said that I should be more careful. I drove that car from 15 1/2 until I was 22 (had other cars in the same time too). Hell, I think the title of that car is still in my name. I would drive it from mon to sat and on sunday it went to him... this poor guy made payments and paid insurance on a car he didn't even drive for over seven years... don't forget he was only 23 when he bought it... he got it back on his 30th birthday. lol.
From that point onwards, Ive always owned at least one benz of some sort... walked away from the w140 during the mortgage boom days and dabbled in all sorts of other cars from rollas to c6 corvettes to vipers to trucks to bikes... anyway in 08 got back into a w140 series and probably will have one or two for the rest of my days.
Still joke with my brother about using the back seat of his car more than he has... lmao and its true... I got so much yum yum from the girls in that car, its not even funny... it was a hotel on wheels for me, going city to city through-out California collecting that sweet nectar that is the va jay jay... lol. shit, married the one that wouldn't... funny how that works.
end of story but this thread was a great read and brought back many many memories... Thanks for the revival. Got to say, Im very lucky to have the family that I do because I don't know where the hell I'd be today without them.
Also I should note that I had been working in my dads restaurant since I was 9. I don't want to make it seem like I was spoiled (although I was)...
Okay, bnZE430/1999, I need a hanky, please....
James Combs,
Salt Lake City, Utah USA
1997 S320, 125,200 miles...."sniff"; getting a little sentimental over our W/C-140s....
