- Joined
- May 14, 2018
- Messages
- 2,059
- City
- Western Mass.
- Vehicle Year
- 1994
- Engine
- 3.0 V6
- Transmission
- Manual
- Tire Size
- 225/70/R15
- My credo
- If it's not broken Don't Fix It!
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the garage
Not a Ranger was stirring, not even the broken down Dodge;
The race Rangers were all covered with care,
In hopes that Go Fast Parts would soon be there,
The Heads were all nestled all snug in their box,
While dreams of porting and polishing doesn't cost lots;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap,
When out on the lawn arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,
Away to the garage I flew like a flash,
through open the door in my mad dash,
The moon lights reflection on the new paint jobs
Gave a luster that is only known to the gods,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a maintenance sleigh, with a V8 in there,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in that moment it had to be St. Nick,
More cylinders than the new 2.7 Eco-Boost,
He whistled, and shouted this ones more powerful even without Boost,
No 2.0, No 2.3, No 2.5 or 2.7 for me,
No 2.9, No 3.0, No 4.0 or 5.0 H.O. for thee
Attach the crane to the rafters! Get Lights on them walls!
Now wrench away! wrench away! wrench away all!
As welders, wrenches and sparks fly,
He met with an obstacle, motor mounts we seem to shy,
So to the sleigh he and the helpers flew,
With a sleigh full of parts and now St. Nicholas too.
And then, with a noise and clanking that made me fear,
I hear him yell the mount has to be here.
With my hands on my head, and lots of pacing around,
Out came St. Nicholas with a great bound,
He was dressed in a jumper that covered head to foot,
Covered in grease, stains and now even soot;
A bundle of parts flung over his shoulder,
and now he looked like a mechanic, just a little older.
His movements, Now quick and precise, These moves made me merry,
While his hands looking all wherry, installed a muffler that began with Cherry.
With his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth,
He proclaimed this thing will be the fastest in the south!
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
Since on these nuts and bolts he did reef.
The engines loud sound shook his belly around,
As he revved the Godzilla 7.3 to hear it's sound,
It was choppy and ruff, so we adjusted the ECU stuff.
And I laughed as I packed in all my stuff, We agreed it needed turbo's to be enough.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his wrist,
We heard the turbos whistle and let out a hiss.
He spoke not a word, but went on to the dyno work,
With the peddle down the Ranger jumped up with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside his nose,
and giving a nod, the intercooler practically froze.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he whistled,
and away they all flew faster than a scud missile,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all Ranger Station members and to all a good night!"
Not a Ranger was stirring, not even the broken down Dodge;
The race Rangers were all covered with care,
In hopes that Go Fast Parts would soon be there,
The Heads were all nestled all snug in their box,
While dreams of porting and polishing doesn't cost lots;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap,
When out on the lawn arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,
Away to the garage I flew like a flash,
through open the door in my mad dash,
The moon lights reflection on the new paint jobs
Gave a luster that is only known to the gods,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a maintenance sleigh, with a V8 in there,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in that moment it had to be St. Nick,
More cylinders than the new 2.7 Eco-Boost,
He whistled, and shouted this ones more powerful even without Boost,
No 2.0, No 2.3, No 2.5 or 2.7 for me,
No 2.9, No 3.0, No 4.0 or 5.0 H.O. for thee
Attach the crane to the rafters! Get Lights on them walls!
Now wrench away! wrench away! wrench away all!
As welders, wrenches and sparks fly,
He met with an obstacle, motor mounts we seem to shy,
So to the sleigh he and the helpers flew,
With a sleigh full of parts and now St. Nicholas too.
And then, with a noise and clanking that made me fear,
I hear him yell the mount has to be here.
With my hands on my head, and lots of pacing around,
Out came St. Nicholas with a great bound,
He was dressed in a jumper that covered head to foot,
Covered in grease, stains and now even soot;
A bundle of parts flung over his shoulder,
and now he looked like a mechanic, just a little older.
His movements, Now quick and precise, These moves made me merry,
While his hands looking all wherry, installed a muffler that began with Cherry.
With his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth,
He proclaimed this thing will be the fastest in the south!
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
Since on these nuts and bolts he did reef.
The engines loud sound shook his belly around,
As he revved the Godzilla 7.3 to hear it's sound,
It was choppy and ruff, so we adjusted the ECU stuff.
And I laughed as I packed in all my stuff, We agreed it needed turbo's to be enough.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his wrist,
We heard the turbos whistle and let out a hiss.
He spoke not a word, but went on to the dyno work,
With the peddle down the Ranger jumped up with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside his nose,
and giving a nod, the intercooler practically froze.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he whistled,
and away they all flew faster than a scud missile,
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all Ranger Station members and to all a good night!"