The Official 2nd Gen RAM Forum OT thread
#4381
09-26-2012, 06:13 PM
Lol which one of you guys is this?? Its like hes having a orgasm talking about his truck...
http://youtu.be/SfJUPPGnmzo
http://youtu.be/SfJUPPGnmzo
Last edited by stewie01; 09-26-2012 at 06:17 PM.
#4383
09-26-2012, 06:35 PM
Yes it does. At the moment my exhaust is dumped at the Y Pipes, sounds like crap when you get on it, but evens out very nicely.
#4384
09-26-2012, 06:37 PM
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That truck sounds alright, I've watched that a few times over the past couple of weeks.
But holy crap is he annoying. Like I give a flying F... about your ''country boy'' special dash cover! Anybody with a little time can make their own dash cover it ain't f*cking rocket science.
Plus with his exhaust... why not explain what you got for an exhaust setup? The guy seems like an asshat.
Like the sound of the truck, but that is just straight pipes with high quality video really. But I suppose that is a ''country boy custom'' setup, what a moron.
But holy crap is he annoying. Like I give a flying F... about your ''country boy'' special dash cover! Anybody with a little time can make their own dash cover it ain't f*cking rocket science.
Plus with his exhaust... why not explain what you got for an exhaust setup? The guy seems like an asshat.
Like the sound of the truck, but that is just straight pipes with high quality video really. But I suppose that is a ''country boy custom'' setup, what a moron.
#4385
09-26-2012, 07:48 PM
In the eons that have passed since I was born my dad owned a '41 Chevy ¾ ton flatbed pickup.
It might have had a pickup box on it at one time because the flatbed that was on it had Ford stamped in the steel by the end gate.
When he got the truck it did not have an engine or transmission in it. He put a straight six out of a '55 Belair in it, then found a 5 speed transmission from a '30 something ton truck that would bolt to the torque tube rear end.
Once the engine and transmission were in place he spent most of the winter getting it to run properly.
When it was finally operating fairly well most of the time he decided to put twin exhaust stacks on it.
At first he used a Y pipe from an old Ford to simply split the single pipe from the stock manifold. As time passed he accumulated enough exhaust pipe with the proper bends in them to build a split exhaust header.
1, 3, &5 ported into one of the header output tubes and 2, 4, &6 went out the other. I don't remember which side he had which cylinders ported to but, he had turned up a pair of resonators from a an old Mercury to use for the stack mufflers.
Since only three cylinders were being muffled buy the small mufflers it sounded very mellow but would cackle a bit when you stepped on it hard or let off the gas.
It had a distinct sound to it when he would be winding it up through the gear box too.
I learned to drive in that truck. If you knew where you were going you could easily drive 100s miles through fields and never have to go on a highway. You just had to open the right fence gates and make darn sure you closed them afterward.
I'd go pickup all my pals and take them to the swimming/fishing hole through the summer. Once in a while there would be long black marks with 16.5 mud and snow tire tracks leading away from them, but of course I never did such things.
Personally I have never cared much for loud exhaust myself. I like to sneak up on people, damn hard to do that at 150db.
And yes, I have owned some pretty hot cars in my life. All were mostly quite. The exception was my '69 Mustang. I put a set of headers on it and would unbolt the stock exhaust when I would go to the strip.
It might have had a pickup box on it at one time because the flatbed that was on it had Ford stamped in the steel by the end gate.
When he got the truck it did not have an engine or transmission in it. He put a straight six out of a '55 Belair in it, then found a 5 speed transmission from a '30 something ton truck that would bolt to the torque tube rear end.
Once the engine and transmission were in place he spent most of the winter getting it to run properly.
When it was finally operating fairly well most of the time he decided to put twin exhaust stacks on it.
At first he used a Y pipe from an old Ford to simply split the single pipe from the stock manifold. As time passed he accumulated enough exhaust pipe with the proper bends in them to build a split exhaust header.
1, 3, &5 ported into one of the header output tubes and 2, 4, &6 went out the other. I don't remember which side he had which cylinders ported to but, he had turned up a pair of resonators from a an old Mercury to use for the stack mufflers.
Since only three cylinders were being muffled buy the small mufflers it sounded very mellow but would cackle a bit when you stepped on it hard or let off the gas.
It had a distinct sound to it when he would be winding it up through the gear box too.
I learned to drive in that truck. If you knew where you were going you could easily drive 100s miles through fields and never have to go on a highway. You just had to open the right fence gates and make darn sure you closed them afterward.
I'd go pickup all my pals and take them to the swimming/fishing hole through the summer. Once in a while there would be long black marks with 16.5 mud and snow tire tracks leading away from them, but of course I never did such things.
Personally I have never cared much for loud exhaust myself. I like to sneak up on people, damn hard to do that at 150db.
And yes, I have owned some pretty hot cars in my life. All were mostly quite. The exception was my '69 Mustang. I put a set of headers on it and would unbolt the stock exhaust when I would go to the strip.
#4387
09-27-2012, 09:15 PM
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#4388
09-27-2012, 09:52 PM
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The fiat video had to be watched on youtube so I just replaced it with a joke.
Here's another
There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them "What's the Purple Wombat?" "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the children shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!" The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally. The students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?" "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Well, Billy" he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?" "Mr Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff".
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-PAL, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?" "It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is". "What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended!"
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing "I was so worried about you! What happened?" "Mummy!" cried Billy "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy" his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?" "Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!" "You... don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!" Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way - lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy". Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy".
It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat". Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy".
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy".
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy". Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy".
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy".
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy".
It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.
The moral of the story? Don't stand up in a boat.
Here's another
There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them "What's the Purple Wombat?" "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the children shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!" The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally. The students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?" "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Well, Billy" he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?" "Mr Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff".
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-PAL, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?" "It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is". "What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended!"
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing "I was so worried about you! What happened?" "Mummy!" cried Billy "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy" his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?" "Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!" "You... don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!" Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way - lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy". Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy".
It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat". Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy".
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy".
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy". Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy".
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy".
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy".
It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.
The moral of the story? Don't stand up in a boat.
#4390
09-28-2012, 10:25 AM
