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(Darwin gets five)   Truck-full of people drives into shallow water, inexplicably stay in the truck. With the tailpipe submerged. And the engine running. And the windows rolled up. "If they'd have gotten out, they could have probably walked out."   (wfaa.com) divider line 161
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21192 clicks; posted to Main » on 24 Jun 2009 at 8:12 AM (5 years ago)   |  Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook   more»



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2009-06-24 07:31:51 AM  
img412.imageshack.us
 
2009-06-24 07:42:44 AM  
I dispute the assumption that this is Darwin-worthy.
 
2009-06-24 07:51:13 AM  
Texas tag desperately needed.
 
2009-06-24 07:52:21 AM  
Kyosuke: I dispute the assumption that this is Darwin-worthy.

If all that is standing between you and certain death is a couple of feet of water and a closed window, then yes, this is Darwin-worthy.
 
2009-06-24 07:53:48 AM  
Confabulat: Kyosuke: I dispute the assumption that this is Darwin-worthy.

If all that is standing between you and certain death is a couple of feet of water and a closed window, then yes, this is Darwin-worthy.


Hell, even rolling down the windows would have saved 'em. Darwin smiles.
 
2009-06-24 07:59:58 AM  
Confabulat: If all that is standing between you and certain death is a couple of feet of water and a closed window, then yes, this is Darwin-worthy.

Edsel: Hell, even rolling down the windows would have saved 'em. Darwin smiles.

Neither of you know much about carbon monoxide poisoning, do you.

They never new they were in danger. Neither did the people outside the vehicle watching them.
 
2009-06-24 08:04:14 AM  
Kyosuke: They never new they were in danger.

They never knew, either.
 
2009-06-24 08:05:53 AM  
Were they wearing Nikes? This sounds more like a cult suicide than an enormous case of the stupids.
 
2009-06-24 08:08:07 AM  
Kyosuke: Neither of you know much about carbon monoxide poisoning, do you

I'm smart enough not to sit in an idling car of any kind with the windows up for a long period of time, much less one with the tail end submerged.

I thought that was common knowledge.

I guess not.
 
2009-06-24 08:10:55 AM  
Confabulat: I'm smart enough not to sit in an idling car of any kind with the windows up for a long period of time, much less one with the tail end submerged.

It was a pickup truck. The tailpipe output is nowhere near the cabin or anything connected to the cabin.

Since the engine was running, it would be easy to assume that the tailpipe wasn't blocked.

This was nothing more than a tragic accident.
 
2009-06-24 08:13:27 AM  
Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.
 
2009-06-24 08:18:39 AM  
My money is on Taco Bell flatulance.
 
2009-06-24 08:19:39 AM  
Maybe Idiocracy won't happen after all...
 
2009-06-24 08:19:39 AM  
 
2009-06-24 08:19:43 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


Day? Made.
 
2009-06-24 08:19:46 AM  
img122.imageshack.us

Who's the U-boat Commander?
 
2009-06-24 08:19:56 AM  
Yeah, but if they'd have gotten out they'd have gotten their shoes wet, and if they'd have rolled down the windows the skeeters woulda got 'em.

I understand what they were thinking.
 
zz9
2009-06-24 08:20:30 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


Sounds like fun! Where do I sign up?
 
2009-06-24 08:20:36 AM  
Pocket Ninja:

You are P J O'Rourke, for real, aren't you?
 
2009-06-24 08:21:57 AM  
This is absolutely Darwin worthy. Even assuming they were didn't know they were in danger, what did they plan to do, just sit there all day until someone came and got them?

I don't know about you but when my car gets stuck I usually get out and try and un-stick it, or at least survey the damage.
 
2009-06-24 08:23:39 AM  
Is it possible to Godwin a Darwin thread?
 
2009-06-24 08:26:18 AM  
does co2 poisoning happen that quick?
 
2009-06-24 08:27:33 AM  
lol... whut no Iran threads?
 
2009-06-24 08:28:02 AM  
Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Considering the average intelligence of those who enjoy "mudding" in my part of the country, I am surprised more don't meet this fate. Not bad people, just not all that sharp.
 
2009-06-24 08:28:05 AM  
"The whole thing was probably less than 48 inches of water clear across the whole pond. If they'd have gotten out, they could have probably walked out. But who knows why they didn't."

I have theory.
 
2009-06-24 08:28:13 AM  
BlorfMaster: does co2 poisoning happen that quick?

CO poisoning does.
 
2009-06-24 08:28:17 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


Done. I'm going home.
 
2009-06-24 08:28:42 AM  
I'll bet they were already dead before the truck got stuck. I'll wait until Horatio has a look.
 
2009-06-24 08:28:54 AM  
all right. that does it. screw it. where do i sign up for the pocket ninja fan club?
criminy that was beautiful.
 
2009-06-24 08:29:11 AM  
Thud'nBlunder: Is it possible to Godwin a Darwin thread?

You know who also liked to kill famillies with toxic gasses?
 
2009-06-24 08:29:14 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


This is the single best thing I've ever read on Fark and perhaps all of the internet.
 
2009-06-24 08:29:30 AM  
spentmiles: "The whole thing was probably less than 48 inches of water clear across the whole pond. If they'd have gotten out, they could have probably walked out. But who knows why they didn't."

I have theory.


So do I. There was no sign that they needed to.
 
2009-06-24 08:29:50 AM  
"If they'd have gotten out, they could have probably walked out."

Yeah well you saw what happened to James Kim, the CNET reviewer who tried to walk to safety when he and his family got stuck on a logging road in Oregon. The lesson? Stay With The Vehicle!
 
2009-06-24 08:30:11 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


This is one of the many reasons you are on my list of favorites.

/Still doesn't beat the "'I Voted!' Stickers" one though.
 
2009-06-24 08:30:37 AM  
Kyosuke: BlorfMaster: does co2 poisoning happen that quick?

CO poisoning does.


true, but CO2 is one louder...
www.hearya.com
 
2009-06-24 08:31:43 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


I just picture you sitting there, wearing a leather helmet and goggles, going VROOOOMMM VROOOM, until the truck owner notices you and tells you to get the hell out of his car before he calls the cops.
 
2009-06-24 08:31:54 AM  
Pocket Ninja:

Ten Darwin Dollars to you sah!

www.csuchico.edu
 
2009-06-24 08:32:33 AM  
Pocket Ninja

Outstanding.
 
2009-06-24 08:34:04 AM  
Pocket Ninja: I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.

I've read a lot of your post. Always a pleasure. This one though is GREAT. Epically great. I hope you smoked a cig and had a glass of merlot after completing this one.
 
2009-06-24 08:34:16 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


A new record. The internet has been won and it's only 8:33 am.

/+ 1 million
 
X15
2009-06-24 08:35:56 AM  
Kyosuke: Confabulat: I'm smart enough not to sit in an idling car of any kind with the windows up for a long period of time, much less one with the tail end submerged.

It was a pickup truck. The tailpipe output is nowhere near the cabin or anything connected to the cabin.

Since the engine was running, it would be easy to assume that the tailpipe wasn't blocked.

This was nothing more than a tragic accident.


Umm, to me it kinda implies that they must have had a not insignificant exhaust leak. Because I really can't picture how this could happen with a undamaged exhaust system.
 
2009-06-24 08:36:45 AM  
I'm betting that they used a cell phone to call someone to bring another truck & some chains to pull them out of there. They were probably sitting there laughing it up, waiting on a friend. It does seem a little odd that the one that passed out first didn't clue the other ones in that there was a problem. The real tragedy is, that if one ... just ONE of these poor unfortunate souls had been a smoker, at least a single window would have been opened up. Once again we see that non-smoking kills!! How many more victims must there be??
 
2009-06-24 08:36:55 AM  
toonz: Kyosuke: BlorfMaster: does co2 poisoning happen that quick?

CO poisoning does.

true, but CO2 is one louder...


innit?
 
2009-06-24 08:36:56 AM  
Confabulat: I'm smart enough not to sit in an idling car of any kind with the windows up for a long period of time, much less one with the tail end submerged.

Kyosuke:It was a pickup truck. The tailpipe output is nowhere near the cabin or anything connected to the cabin.

Since the engine was running, it would be easy to assume that the tailpipe wasn't blocked.

This was nothing more than a tragic accident.


Yeah I'm not getting it either.
Submersion does not block the tailpipe, the exhaust stroke creates PLENTY of back pressure to shove the gases past the water and out.

The only think I could think of would be if they had the exhaust system torn open for whatever reason. But even people who think that ripping out the catalytic converter connect the exhaust system straight through to the tailpipe.

Now if there was a MAJOR crack in the pipe under the cabin, the backpressure from the water could increase the leakage some. Probably not all that much, at least not towards the "certain death" scenario.

It's a mystery....
 
2009-06-24 08:37:46 AM  
Pocket Ninja: Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

Oh, that's so much fun! God, at least they died happy. The best part of that activity is that after you're finished with it, you can take drive your mud-plastered 4X4 out the highway and open 'er up, listen the thrummy hum of your monster tires on the asphalt and the light whistle of the wind as it hardens the oozing mud all over your truck's body to a brittle shell. So by the time you're really flying down the road, you've got these nice chips and pieces of hardened earth breaking off your car like pieces of a spaceship disintegrating upon re-entry, and you know something? You know a little secret? That's what you like to pretend. You like to imagine that you are Commander Dwight T. Doom, and you're on a mission that's gone wrong. Can you guide your vessel home? She's flying apart, you growl in your mind. Clear the flight deck. You've made it through these missions before. Just last winter, for instance, after the blizzard when great ice shelves ripped themselves from your snow-encased truck to hurtle backward through traffic. You barely made it home. But this...this is different. Doom Dog to base, Doom Dog to base, you mutter into your imaginary headset. You wish you had one of those Bluetooth things. More realistic. This might be a tight one. You grit your teeth and clench the wheel as another piece breaks away and sails back through your slipstream to explode against the grill of a semi. Your life support system. That was your life support system. You have minutes left. Maybe. You've got to throttle up, you've got to go all in. Warp seven, you whisper, and the truck shudders as another volley of rocks and crusted earth rips away to trace the cars in the right lane. Your flight team. They've come out to support you, to fly you in, but what they can do? You're the ace; they can only watch. But you give a thumbs-up to the woman in the Prius with the new ding in her windshield and mouth the words she needs to hear: I'll be OK. And you might be. Or you might not be. But Dwight T. Doom doesn't give up. Dwight T. Doom is a fighter. I'm coming in, you growl, and there rises a chorus of supportive horns behind you. Clear the damn deck.


You are the best... thank you for making my day...
 
2009-06-24 08:38:29 AM  
Policeman: We regret to report that not all the children on board the school bus survived. We have identified the body of one victim: 9 year-old, Becky Gunderson.
The Press: Awww.
Policeman: [Reading from his clipboard] No, wait. That's, uh, Becky Gutierrez.
The Press: Oh.
Journalist: That's not news. It's Fark.com
 
2009-06-24 08:38:31 AM  
Oznog: Confabulat: I'm smart enough not to sit in an idling car of any kind with the windows up for a long period of time, much less one with the tail end submerged.

Kyosuke:It was a pickup truck. The tailpipe output is nowhere near the cabin or anything connected to the cabin.

Since the engine was running, it would be easy to assume that the tailpipe wasn't blocked.

This was nothing more than a tragic accident.

Yeah I'm not getting it either.
Submersion does not block the tailpipe, the exhaust stroke creates PLENTY of back pressure to shove the gases past the water and out.

The only think I could think of would be if they had the exhaust system torn open for whatever reason. But even people who think that ripping out the catalytic converter connect the exhaust system straight through to the tailpipe.

Now if there was a MAJOR crack in the pipe under the cabin, the backpressure from the water could increase the leakage some. Probably not all that much, at least not towards the "certain death" scenario.

It's a mystery....


NAh. Exhaust just bubbled back up underneath the truck bed and leaked up through the cabin off truck.
 
2009-06-24 08:38:42 AM  
Why would the English put a hummingbird on their money? Hummingbirds occur only in the Americas.
 
2009-06-24 08:41:51 AM  
fta:
Duesler said the incident happened when the victims were apparently "mudding," where people try to drive vehicles through shallow pools created by heavy rainfall.

i refuse to see them as victims, except in the case that they fell victim to their own severe stupidity. obviously this pond was MUCH deeper than their gene pool, and they didnt want to get their feet wet.
 
2009-06-24 08:42:58 AM  

There's a reason these vertical exhaust pipes exist:

chromeroom.com
 
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