The Trollmobile

Everything’s cool.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the first truly “nice” day of the year. It’s the weekend and you’re out and about, just cruising with the windows down without a care in the world. It’s one of those rare days that is just so nice and sunny that you find yourself in a cheerful mood from the moment you wake up. Birds are chirping, the radio is playing all your favorite songs and you’re catching nothing but green lights. Life is good. You’re waving at strangers.

Then you notice someone zooming up behind you quickly before slowing down within inches of your back bumper. You expect them to swerve quickly around you but it doesn’t happen. They continue driving uncomfortably close to you for several miles.

You can’t quite identify what kind of vehicle it is. It looks familiar, but you can’t put a name to it. It’s definitely a little econobox though. Some 80’s piece of junk. Just when you were starting to think the car was never going to stop riding your ass, it darts to the side and you can hear the mystery car’s engine start to rev as the driver downshifts and prepares to pass you.

At this point, you realize your good mood has dissolved and you have had enough of this guy already. It’s time to teach him a lesson. Make him realize that he’s not the king of the road, and you aren’t afraid of him. You may not be driving the most powerful car on the road, but surely your new-ish sedan is a more powerful and capable car than his… um, whatever that thing is. He’s not going to overtake you. You both punch it.

Well the joke’s on you motherfucker, because you just got buzzed by a Chevy Sprint Turbo and there’s nothing you’re gonna do about it. He just walked all over your ass, and now he’s in front of you. He won. Even worse, you are pretty sure you hear him making what sound like rooster sounds at you from up ahead.

“That’s it” you say to yourself out loud. “I’m following this asshole, and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

You sit up perfectly straight, turn off the radio, and focus on pursuing the little shitbox that just passed you. It’s a challenge however; he clearly has more power than you do, or at least less weight to lug around, and he’s toying with you, continuously letting you catch up a little before effortlessly pulling away. The rooster sounds have given way to the sound of cows mooing, and you realize they are coming from a loudspeaker mounted on the roof of his car.

“He’s got to slow down soon” you think to yourself, grinning at the sight of major congestion on the road ahead. “There’s nowhere for him to go”.

Indeed, the traffic as has ground almost to a halt, but just when you think you are about to gain some ground on the guy, he begins weaving between cars, barely even slowing down, barking at you like a dog. You try your best to keep up be he is starting to gain some ground and it becomes clear that not only is he faster than you, he is able to handily out-maneuver you as well. He eventually slips away into the opening ahead of the traffic jam and you think you’ve seen the last of him. You finally feel yourself start to calm down, you recline your seat back a couple of clicks, turn the radio back on, and try to go back to just cruising and staying calm. Miles go by and you have all but forgotten about the little hatchback and the jerk who was driving it. It’s all fading away into the distance…

“Son of a BITCH!” Just when your blood pressure had finally started to get back down to a normal level, you spot the little bastard up ahead. It becomes clear that he has noticed you as well. Instead of pulling away this time, he actually slows a bit and is driving almost alongside you now. Your heart begins to pound as you feel your blood begin to boil once again.

Instantly alert, you speed up a little to pull up alongside him, ready to finally tell this guy off. Then he slams on his brakes.

You respond quickly and hit your brakes as well, but once again you have been bested. Not only does the Sprint out-accelerate and out-handle you, apparently it stops much more quickly as well, and now the guy is once again behind you, riding your ass yet again, with the sounds of several different types of sirens being emitted from his speaker, entering your open windows and piercing deep into your brain.

Then the sinking feeling in your gut starts to kick in. You have a realization. An epiphany. This guy wants to mess with somebody and for whatever reason, he has chosen you. There is nothing you can do about, and he knows it. He has proven that he possesses superior acceleration, better maneuverability, and vastly more effective brakes. There’s no way you are going to wait him out either, his tiny car probably gets double the fuel mileage of your thirsty-but-still-not-fast v6. You are beginning to comprehend just how inferior you are. It’s quickly driving you mad, and you’re starting to have crazy thoughts. Hell, he probably even has more leg room inside that thing than you’ve got, and more cupholders, too. His a/c probably blows colder, and every vent aims perfectly at his face every time. His car was cheaper than yours, but is also more desirable. He can beat you at everything. Life sucks.

The blaring sirens have ceased, and you watch as the driver brings a microphone to his lips and begins making obnoxious and childish shrieking sounds with his mouth. It’s killing you not to respond, but you know it’s pointless to do so. You will only be bested once again by the Trollmobile, so you do the only thing you can do: you try to ignore it and hope that it gets bored and goes away sooner rather than later so you can relax, forget about the little white hatchback and get on with your day.

Good luck.

If you are looking for any actual information about the Chevy Sprint and all of its many relatives, I’ve already covered the basics of these cars here: Suzuki Forsa/Cultus/Chevy Sprint Turbo

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About Mike Ross

I love anything you can drive. But I love it even more if it has a small block Chevy or Ford motor, a turbo, four wheel drive, is a hatchback, or was made in the 80s. My ideal car would be a combination of all of these things, and I'm working on building a time machine so I can go back to the 80's and convince Chevy and Ford to collaborate on a twin-engine, single turbo 4x4 XR4Ti/Fox Mustang/Third Gen F-body and hide one in a mineshaft for me to recover in brand new condition. Look for a blog post about it just as soon as it happens. Or maybe it already did, and I've already posted about it in the future and the internet just needs to catch up with it. Okay, my head hurts, never mind.