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Pedal Pumping - Stories, Pictures, Experiences


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#21 Lynn

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Posted 05 January 2007 - 11:19 PM

Keep the stories\experiences coming :wink:

http://img128.images...06/crankki1.gif


No problem for me, as I have many experiences to share. Love the clip. Are you trying to start that thing in the pumps in your avatar? I love those pumps:fine:


#22 Guest_ilovepumps!_*

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Posted 05 January 2007 - 11:29 PM

No problem for me, as I have many experiences to share. Love the clip. Are you trying to start that thing in the pumps in your avatar? I love those pumps:fine:


Thats not me in the clip (my foot is not that sexy lol). Its a clip of a pretty blond girl cranking her motor. I just converted it into a gif file.

#23 stuckheels

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Posted 06 January 2007 - 01:33 AM

hello Lynn. just read part 2, the whole story is great, can't wait for part 3, its like waiting for the next star wars movie to be released. keep getting stuck and writing about it Lynn.:wink:

#24 Lynn

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Posted 06 January 2007 - 02:55 AM

Thats not me in the clip (my foot is not that sexy lol). Its a clip of a pretty blond girl cranking her motor. I just converted it into a gif file.


You fooled me with that awesome picture in you avatar. LOL:fine:

#25 Lynn

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Posted 06 January 2007 - 04:37 AM

Part 2

My heart and adrenaline are now racing as I am stalled at the bottom of this snowy hill about 80 yards from the top of it to the cleared road. Basically, I am in the middle of a field on a newly paved road where construction on new mansions basically is about to begin. No lights or anybody is around. The only light is from a clear brisk moon and red lights lighting up my dash of the stalled car and the only sound is the wind howling shaking my car. I am not sure if I was freightened or simply excited about the situation I was in at this point. I'm thinking to myself, well, I don't have a battery jump box with me and if I don't get this thing started and get back up that hill I need a tow truck to tow me and I am wearing nothing more then a long satin robe with a nightie underneath and my 2" Lifestride pumps with no stockings. What the hell is the tow truck driver goona think of this one, lol!!! The reality, I was probably more excited at the task at hand and really didn't give a shit what the tow man would think if I ended up needing him:wink:

I have a crazy view on trying to restart my old clunker. I look at it like this, it's sort of like reviving somebody with a stopped heart, you only get so long to get is restarted before you lose all battery kick, especially on this cold January night 2 years ago, and there are only so many little pumping tricks that you can do to help coax it to refire for you. Knowing that I was dressed to the 9s on this occasion, i felt pretty good about my chances of getting it restarted knowing that the pedal responds pretty well to the classic pumps on my barefeet or paddles that were about to begin shocking the pedal when my pump met it hard. In my mind at this point, I felt that this car was not going to be towed out of there, but rather driven with my feet out of their. It was going to start, maybe by first putting up a good fight with me, but it WAS GOING TO START!!!:D The war would be on with my delta 88 and her mommy under that fully lit moon with now a lit Capri Menthol in my left hand and my right hand and right foot firmly planted on the ignition and pedal respectively.:wink:

More to come tomorrow.


Part 3 “A Tired Battery and Driver”

I was in a postion to begin what would be a lengthy and delicate battle at the bottom of that snowy hill, left pump resting comfortably on the push emergency-brake and right pump about half way on the pedal. I tilted my seat on an upwards angle to allow my foot to slap at that pedal on a downwards angle only allowing my foot to pump the pedal about half way down on each stroke of the pedal during each cranking attempt, as I felt this technique gave me the best chance to get it started. The thought was, I would be feeding gas to the carb but on a more conservative basis hopefully not flooding it, hahahaha. I knew I was going to need to pump it as it was a chilly night, thus making a harder start once again. My mind right now was on getting it started and somehow climbing the daunting hill in front of me. About 5 delicate tap tap tap tap taps are heard from my pumps before turning the key and out comes a slow pitched rrrrrrrrrrrrrr from that tired old v6. A little too slow for my liking as I think to myself, “oh shit, that battery does not sound good” I am really goona have to crank this motor very carefully as I do not have a jump box. At this point, I felt like I was in for a long night at the bottom of that hill as I was going to have to wait some time to hopefully let the battery rejuice itself in between tries to give me enough kick to pump and turn the motor over. I had noticed at this point it was 10:30 pm, about a half hour into this mess and I knew I would be doing some smoking waiting in between tries so I took note that I had about a pack and a half of the Capri menthols in my purse, a very weak cell phone signal, and one blanket in the back seat if I was going to be here for awhile if I couldn’t get it started and up that hill without help. The blanket was crucial at this point as I was only wearing a satin long robe with a short satin nightie underneath and no stockings on my feet in those pumps and there would be no heat turned on as I needed all power off in that car to give me every little cranking power that fatigued battery could give me. I was one helpless female at the bottom of that hill at this point.
Another check now, about 5 minutes later to make sure all electric was off. No pumping before turning the key and rrrrrrrrrrrrrtaptaptaprrrrrrrrtaptaptaprrrrrrrrtaptaptap with a little more life for about a quick 10 second count as it became a slower rrrrrrrrr after this with me letting off the key in the middle of a bounce on that seat this time only to be met with the red dash and turning the key all the way off so the red dash is out not using valuable battery. The only light anywhere around me as fog began to set in at the bottom of the hill, was the light from my lit cigarette dangling from my mouth. A light wind howls around me as I am thinking, “Why me, please cooperate with me, don’t do this to me” I just want to go home in my warm bed and not get laughed at by some tow truck driver if I can even reach one now or a construction worker tomorrow morning if I cant find help tonight if I end up needing it. I’m patient again and this time think “ I gotta go longer then a 10 second count this time in order to have any chance” and with that rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclackclackrrrrclackclackclackrrrrrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack go my pumps a little harder this time more then the taptap as again, I can only get about 12 seconds max out of the battery before it really slows down. Nothing. Another cigarette it is.

This experience is going to stretch out as I am telling it exactly how it happened that night, therefore, will have several parts or chapters if you will. Hope everyone enjoys as I play it back again in my mind as it happened. Thanks for the patience.

#26 stuckheels

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Posted 06 January 2007 - 11:47 PM

i'm enjoying every letter of every word Lynn. you just stay helpless my girl

#27 Lynn

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Posted 07 January 2007 - 12:22 AM

Part 3 “A Tired Battery and Driver”

I was in a postion to begin what would be a lengthy and delicate battle at the bottom of that snowy hill, left pump resting comfortably on the push emergency-brake and right pump about half way on the pedal. I tilted my seat on an upwards angle to allow my foot to slap at that pedal on a downwards angle only allowing my foot to pump the pedal about half way down on each stroke of the pedal during each cranking attempt, as I felt this technique gave me the best chance to get it started. The thought was, I would be feeding gas to the carb but on a more conservative basis hopefully not flooding it, hahahaha. I knew I was going to need to pump it as it was a chilly night, thus making a harder start once again. My mind right now was on getting it started and somehow climbing the daunting hill in front of me. About 5 delicate tap tap tap tap taps are heard from my pumps before turning the key and out comes a slow pitched rrrrrrrrrrrrrr from that tired old v6. A little too slow for my liking as I think to myself, “oh shit, that battery does not sound good” I am really goona have to crank this motor very carefully as I do not have a jump box. At this point, I felt like I was in for a long night at the bottom of that hill as I was going to have to wait some time to hopefully let the battery rejuice itself in between tries to give me enough kick to pump and turn the motor over. I had noticed at this point it was 10:30 pm, about a half hour into this mess and I knew I would be doing some smoking waiting in between tries so I took note that I had about a pack and a half of the Capri menthols in my purse, a very weak cell phone signal, and one blanket in the back seat if I was going to be here for awhile if I couldn’t get it started and up that hill without help. The blanket was crucial at this point as I was only wearing a satin long robe with a short satin nightie underneath and no stockings on my feet in those pumps and there would be no heat turned on as I needed all power off in that car to give me every little cranking power that fatigued battery could give me. I was one helpless female at the bottom of that hill at this point.
Another check now, about 5 minutes later to make sure all electric was off. No pumping before turning the key and rrrrrrrrrrrrrtaptaptaprrrrrrrrtaptaptaprrrrrrrrtaptaptap with a little more life for about a quick 10 second count as it became a slower rrrrrrrrr after this with me letting off the key in the middle of a bounce on that seat this time only to be met with the red dash and turning the key all the way off so the red dash is out not using valuable battery. The only light anywhere around me as fog began to set in at the bottom of the hill, was the light from my lit cigarette dangling from my mouth. A light wind howls around me as I am thinking, “Why me, please cooperate with me, don’t do this to me” I just want to go home in my warm bed and not get laughed at by some tow truck driver if I can even reach one now or a construction worker tomorrow morning if I cant find help tonight if I end up needing it. I’m patient again and this time think “ I gotta go longer then a 10 second count this time in order to have any chance” and with that rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclackclackrrrrclackclackclackrrrrrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack go my pumps a little harder this time more then the taptap as again, I can only get about 12 seconds max out of the battery before it really slows down. Nothing. Another cigarette it is.

This experience is going to stretch out as I am telling it exactly how it happened that night, therefore, will have several parts or chapters if you will. Hope everyone enjoys as I play it back again in my mind as it happened. Thanks for the patience.


Part 4 “Lynn becomes more aggressive”

The only light at the bottom of that thinly layered snowy hill is the light of my long thin lit Capri menthol as a heavier fog has begun to set in limiting my vision to only about 30 yards in front of me up that snowy hill. I have decided to wait about 20 minutes from the last attempt of trying to get the motor started as I have thought that would allow the battery to recharge itself to give me some more cranking time on the upcoming attempts to really get after it this time.

I begin this attempt with 8 harder thrusts on the pedal before turning the key which would pump the pedal into the floorboard this time. I have decided in order to get the right fuel mixture on this go round, I am going to pump the pedal on each cranking attempt more then half way down this time as this might give me the spark needed to turn that old v6 over this time. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump as the thumps that are heard are my pumps mashing the pedal into the floorboard this time much more aggressively for about a 20 second count. Nothing yet. This time it is rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack rrrrclackclackclack rrrclackclackclack rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack with the pedal being pumped about 3 quarters of the way down and me starting to bounce a little more aggressively on this attempt. No dice again, not even a sputter or cough to show me that any progress was being made or that the motor even remotely wanted to fire for me. Knowing this car, I am thinking of the different pumping techniques I will need to use on this cold, dark and lonely night at the bottom of this snowy hill. I am getting my moneys worth out of my very comfy 2” vintage Lifestride pumps on this night as they are in full motion now. I decide on about 6 more thumps again before turning the key over. The next attempt yet again is rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack rrrrclackclackclack rrrclackclackclack rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack with me frantically bouncing this time as the pedal only goes half way down on this try while the swoosh swoosh of my long satin robe is more noticeable rubbing my leather seat and I begin to notice my battery fade just a bit at the end of the 15 seconds on this try. “Damn it” is the end result of this try. I decide to press on as I feel the battery still can handle a couple of more tries on this attempt, however, only to continue to be met with a red dash board in front of me on that dark, foggy winters night . I continued about 4 more tries before finally realizing I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

A new cigarette is the call, as it is now about 11:00 pm and another rest is needed for both me and the battery in order to have any chance at getting out of this stuck and flooded mess I was in. I decide to relax by slipping off my left pump, exposing my beautifully red manicured toe nails, and propping my left leg up under my buttocks while I wait for the battery to recharge itself yet again and smoke another smoke to help calm my nerves yet again. “Maybe the next go round, it will be your turn to be good for your mommy and do your part as I have done mine” I say to the car. We will see.

Hope everyone is enjoying this experience I had 2 years ago. Any thoughts or comments are most welcomed and wanted.

#28 Lynn

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Posted 07 January 2007 - 01:35 AM

i'm enjoying every letter of every word Lynn. you just stay helpless my girl


Thanks Stuck. You have just put a twinckle in my eye, although that night was more fear and helplessness:upset: The way this has gone for me so far, do you think:

A: I will get it restarted?

B: I manage to get back up that hill?

C: Will I be an embarrased crossdressed "Damsell in Distress" come morning?

I know the answer, but am curious to your thought so far of what the outcome will be?

#29 Lynn

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Posted 08 January 2007 - 06:13 PM

Part 4 “Lynn becomes more aggressive”

The only light at the bottom of that thinly layered snowy hill is the light of my long thin lit Capri menthol as a heavier fog has begun to set in limiting my vision to only about 30 yards in front of me up that snowy hill. I have decided to wait about 20 minutes from the last attempt of trying to get the motor started as I have thought that would allow the battery to recharge itself to give me some more cranking time on the upcoming attempts to really get after it this time.

I begin this attempt with 8 harder thrusts on the pedal before turning the key which would pump the pedal into the floorboard this time. I have decided in order to get the right fuel mixture on this go round, I am going to pump the pedal on each cranking attempt more then half way down this time as this might give me the spark needed to turn that old v6 over this time. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump rrrrrthumpthump rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthumpthumpthumpthumpthump as the thumps that are heard are my pumps mashing the pedal into the floorboard this time much more aggressively for about a 20 second count. Nothing yet. This time it is rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack rrrrclackclackclack rrrclackclackclack rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack with the pedal being pumped about 3 quarters of the way down and me starting to bounce a little more aggressively on this attempt. No dice again, not even a sputter or cough to show me that any progress was being made or that the motor even remotely wanted to fire for me. Knowing this car, I am thinking of the different pumping techniques I will need to use on this cold, dark and lonely night at the bottom of this snowy hill. I am getting my moneys worth out of my very comfy 2” vintage Lifestride pumps on this night as they are in full motion now. I decide on about 6 more thumps again before turning the key over. The next attempt yet again is rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack rrrrclackclackclack rrrclackclackclack rrrrrrrrrrrclackclackclack with me frantically bouncing this time as the pedal only goes half way down on this try while the swoosh swoosh of my long satin robe is more noticeable rubbing my leather seat and I begin to notice my battery fade just a bit at the end of the 15 seconds on this try. “Damn it” is the end result of this try. I decide to press on as I feel the battery still can handle a couple of more tries on this attempt, however, only to continue to be met with a red dash board in front of me on that dark, foggy winters night . I continued about 4 more tries before finally realizing I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

A new cigarette is the call, as it is now about 11:00 pm and another rest is needed for both me and the battery in order to have any chance at getting out of this stuck and flooded mess I was in. I decide to relax by slipping off my left pump, exposing my beautifully red manicured toe nails, and propping my left leg up under my buttocks while I wait for the battery to recharge itself yet again and smoke another smoke to help calm my nerves yet again. “Maybe the next go round, it will be your turn to be good for your mommy and do your part as I have done mine” I say to the car. We will see.

Hope everyone is enjoying this experience I had 2 years ago. Any thoughts or comments are most welcomed and wanted.


Part 5 “A lot of bouncing barefoot”

11:45 pm and I begin my quest again, now about 1:45 minutes into this ordeal on what has become a very late, dark,foggy, and tiring night. I smoked about 2 cigarettes in 45 minutes to give me and the battery plenty of rest. As I said before, I decided to slip my left pump off and prop my left leg under my buttocks. I decide on this next attempt, that I am slipping off my right pump, both pumps now sitting beside me on the seat, and will go at it completely barefoot on this try. Maybe my pumps were flooding the carburetor too much I think to myself. Left leg now propped back as my left foot is completely pressed into the leather seat, I begin too bounce before turning the key as my soft right manicured honeymoon red toes lightly pump halfway down on the accelerator pedal about 10 times before turning the key on this try. Rrrrrrrrrr about 5 seconds. Nothing. I let go of the key and dry pump 10 more times now. “Cmon, baby, its your turn” I urge as I am pumping the pedal again. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumppumpumpswishswishswishpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrrrpumpump for about 15 seconds this time and a little sputter shows me that it is trying for me a little and gives me some hope. With that attempt, I become very determined at this point as I let off the key at the end of that try and reposition my left leg down to the floorboard now and wrap my left arm around the steering wheel moving my seat forward just a bit. I am tired and frustrated at this point and want to be as close to the pedal now so I really can pump and bounce as much as possible to coax this thing to life. “Your trying, now work with me here” I urge Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumppumpumpswishswishswishpumpumpumprrrpumpump as I am pumping the pedal much more now, basically not letting off at all as I can feel the top of my toes hitting the carpet with each thrust of the pedal into the floorboard this time. I continue this probably for the next 4-5 minutes now as the engine is still spitting and coughing trying to catch for me, but just quite can’t turn over, as the battery fades again at the end of these attempts. I even held it some all the way to the floorboard that time and cranked it without pumping thinking that would help me. Still no dice.

I have become very frustrated as the midnight hour is upon me. I have smoked about 5 or 6 cigarettes into this ordeal with no luck, as the ashtray begins to fill with ashes and cigarette filters. I just don’t know what to do here, as I am usually able to start it within 30 minutes when it is like this, but it has been about 2 hours now since this motor last ran for me. I have noticed the smell of gas, but in those instances I pinned the pedal to the floor while cranking allowing the carb to clear itself thinking it was flooded. I am one helpless “Damsel in Distress”, that is for sure on this evening. Again, rrrrrrrrpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumprrrrrrrrpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrpumpumpumpumprrrrrr “Shit” is the end result here once again with a definite slowing battery this time. I reach for my purse, grab a piece of gum, light another cigarette, reaply some lipstick with a red dash board in front of me and cross my legs and sit cross legged on that seat this time. Looks like I am waiting again for the battery to rejuice itself once again as a light wind howls around my car. I make sure all the doors are locked once again and all electrical switches are turned off and will wait yet again for another attempt to get it to start for me at the bottom of that dark snowy hill.

#30 Lynn

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Posted 15 January 2007 - 12:27 AM

Part 5 “A lot of bouncing barefoot”

11:45 pm and I begin my quest again, now about 1:45 minutes into this ordeal on what has become a very late, dark,foggy, and tiring night. I smoked about 2 cigarettes in 45 minutes to give me and the battery plenty of rest. As I said before, I decided to slip my left pump off and prop my left leg under my buttocks. I decide on this next attempt, that I am slipping off my right pump, both pumps now sitting beside me on the seat, and will go at it completely barefoot on this try. Maybe my pumps were flooding the carburetor too much I think to myself. Left leg now propped back as my left foot is completely pressed into the leather seat, I begin too bounce before turning the key as my soft right manicured honeymoon red toes lightly pump halfway down on the accelerator pedal about 10 times before turning the key on this try. Rrrrrrrrrr about 5 seconds. Nothing. I let go of the key and dry pump 10 more times now. “Cmon, baby, its your turn” I urge as I am pumping the pedal again. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumppumpumpswishswishswishpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrrrpumpump for about 15 seconds this time and a little sputter shows me that it is trying for me a little and gives me some hope. With that attempt, I become very determined at this point as I let off the key at the end of that try and reposition my left leg down to the floorboard now and wrap my left arm around the steering wheel moving my seat forward just a bit. I am tired and frustrated at this point and want to be as close to the pedal now so I really can pump and bounce as much as possible to coax this thing to life. “Your trying, now work with me here” I urge Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumppumpumpswishswishswishpumpumpumprrrpumpump as I am pumping the pedal much more now, basically not letting off at all as I can feel the top of my toes hitting the carpet with each thrust of the pedal into the floorboard this time. I continue this probably for the next 4-5 minutes now as the engine is still spitting and coughing trying to catch for me, but just quite can’t turn over, as the battery fades again at the end of these attempts. I even held it some all the way to the floorboard that time and cranked it without pumping thinking that would help me. Still no dice.

I have become very frustrated as the midnight hour is upon me. I have smoked about 5 or 6 cigarettes into this ordeal with no luck, as the ashtray begins to fill with ashes and cigarette filters. I just don’t know what to do here, as I am usually able to start it within 30 minutes when it is like this, but it has been about 2 hours now since this motor last ran for me. I have noticed the smell of gas, but in those instances I pinned the pedal to the floor while cranking allowing the carb to clear itself thinking it was flooded. I am one helpless “Damsel in Distress”, that is for sure on this evening. Again, rrrrrrrrpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumprrrrrrrrpumpumpumprrrrrrrrrpumpumpumpumprrrrrr “Shit” is the end result here once again with a definite slowing battery this time. I reach for my purse, grab a piece of gum, light another cigarette, reaply some lipstick with a red dash board in front of me and cross my legs and sit cross legged on that seat this time. Looks like I am waiting again for the battery to rejuice itself once again as a light wind howls around my car. I make sure all the doors are locked once again and all electrical switches are turned off and will wait yet again for another attempt to get it to start for me at the bottom of that dark snowy hill.


Part 6 “Not sure what to do”

I have decided to sit and wait about an hour before trying again from my last attempt. If this were at home, I would probably wait about 2 hours before trying again. But, I am not at home and it is about 1:00 am and I am very pissed now as I have been at this since 10:00 pm. During that hour wait, I contemplated calling for a tow truck but realized how weak my cell phone signal was and how I was dressed. What would the tow man think of another man dressed in a long satin robe with 2” pumps barefooted think? I really didn’t want to find out on this night and was determined to get this damn car started. If I had to go at this all night, which I was hoping would not be the case, then so be it. If defeat was in my future, then I would just have to be embarrassed, but I was not going to take the embarrassment until the morning if it had to be that way. Besides, I had just spent the last hour under a blanket I had in the car which helped take the chill off some. Plus, to help me make my decision to continue my efforts to get it started, in my last series of attempts, the car was really trying to turn over for me, but I just didn’t have enough battery at the end to quite get the motor to catch for me. So I figured with an hour rest, if I pumped it right, I would have an ample amount of time to crank the motor and enough battery strength to finally get it to turn over for me.

I begin this attempt by slipping my feet back into my pumps as a freshly lit cigarette dangles from my lips. I figure it is time to give it a shot again, sliding my seat forward and wrapping my arm around the wheel, the silent car at the bottom of that foggy hill is now filled with the sound of my pumps going clack clack clack about 10 times before turning the key. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr with me really pumping and bouncing on the 1st attempt for about 45 seconds without letting off the key with my cigarette in my left hand now. Nothing, not even a spit or cough. I pump it hard about 15 more times before turning the key again. At this point, I am frustrated and am really not thinking about the battery, as I feel confident that I let it rest long enough to really get after it for awhile. I continue, pumping and bouncing, and still the same result, a red dashboard in front of me at the bottom of this snowy hill as I let off the key from another 30 second attempt. The only sound in that very early hour now is a light wind howling, the gas throttle cable squeaking under the hood, my satin robe making a swishing sound on the seat, and my pumps clacking as I continue to pump away in hopes I can somehow bring this very stubborn motor to life. Since my last long rest, I have been at it now for about 15 minutes and this damn car yet again isn’t even trying to turn over for me. I was making better progress before my last rest as it was at least attempting to turnover for me, now I am just getting slower rrrrrrrrs with no pop or sputter at all from the very tired motor. I am starting to lose confidence that I may just not get out of this mess as I just can’t get this thing to start again for me. I have tried just about everything, and still am having no luck. I continue for another 10 minutes ignoring a battery that is steadily dying on me as I have just about put the accelerator pedal through the floorboard from pumping it so hard in sheer determination and anger at this point. Nothing again, not even a sputter of hope as I sit dejected yet again as the 1:30 am hour is upon me and I am lighting what seems like my 50th cigarette in about 3 hours. I have no idea what to do except wait yet again to let the battery recharge itself once again and hope I can get it started on the next attempt. I am very tired, irritated, and miserable at this point of the battle. Who is going to win this war? I was determined somehow that I would find a way. We will see.

#31 Guest_ilovepumps!_*

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Posted 15 January 2007 - 05:03 PM

After reading the last part, me thinks your motor is dead as a dodo lol. No bouncing will get you going again LOL

#32 Lynn

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Posted 16 January 2007 - 01:34 PM

After reading the last part, me thinks your motor is dead as a dodo lol. No bouncing will get you going again LOL


Put it to you this way, I drive that same car to this very day. That just happened to be a night that no matter how or how much I pumped, it just would not start for me. Very stubborn when it wants to be.

#33 Lynn

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Posted 16 January 2007 - 08:23 PM

Part 6 “Not sure what to do”

I have decided to sit and wait about an hour before trying again from my last attempt. If this were at home, I would probably wait about 2 hours before trying again. But, I am not at home and it is about 1:00 am and I am very pissed now as I have been at this since 10:00 pm. During that hour wait, I contemplated calling for a tow truck but realized how weak my cell phone signal was and how I was dressed. What would the tow man think of another man dressed in a long satin robe with 2” pumps barefooted think? I really didn’t want to find out on this night and was determined to get this damn car started. If I had to go at this all night, which I was hoping would not be the case, then so be it. If defeat was in my future, then I would just have to be embarrassed, but I was not going to take the embarrassment until the morning if it had to be that way. Besides, I had just spent the last hour under a blanket I had in the car which helped take the chill off some. Plus, to help me make my decision to continue my efforts to get it started, in my last series of attempts, the car was really trying to turn over for me, but I just didn’t have enough battery at the end to quite get the motor to catch for me. So I figured with an hour rest, if I pumped it right, I would have an ample amount of time to crank the motor and enough battery strength to finally get it to turn over for me.

I begin this attempt by slipping my feet back into my pumps as a freshly lit cigarette dangles from my lips. I figure it is time to give it a shot again, sliding my seat forward and wrapping my arm around the wheel, the silent car at the bottom of that foggy hill is now filled with the sound of my pumps going clack clack clack about 10 times before turning the key. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr with me really pumping and bouncing on the 1st attempt for about 45 seconds without letting off the key with my cigarette in my left hand now. Nothing, not even a spit or cough. I pump it hard about 15 more times before turning the key again. At this point, I am frustrated and am really not thinking about the battery, as I feel confident that I let it rest long enough to really get after it for awhile. I continue, pumping and bouncing, and still the same result, a red dashboard in front of me at the bottom of this snowy hill as I let off the key from another 30 second attempt. The only sound in that very early hour now is a light wind howling, the gas throttle cable squeaking under the hood, my satin robe making a swishing sound on the seat, and my pumps clacking as I continue to pump away in hopes I can somehow bring this very stubborn motor to life. Since my last long rest, I have been at it now for about 15 minutes and this damn car yet again isn’t even trying to turn over for me. I was making better progress before my last rest as it was at least attempting to turnover for me, now I am just getting slower rrrrrrrrs with no pop or sputter at all from the very tired motor. I am starting to lose confidence that I may just not get out of this mess as I just can’t get this thing to start again for me. I have tried just about everything, and still am having no luck. I continue for another 10 minutes ignoring a battery that is steadily dying on me as I have just about put the accelerator pedal through the floorboard from pumping it so hard in sheer determination and anger at this point. Nothing again, not even a sputter of hope as I sit dejected yet again as the 1:30 am hour is upon me and I am lighting what seems like my 50th cigarette in about 3 hours. I have no idea what to do except wait yet again to let the battery recharge itself once again and hope I can get it started on the next attempt. I am very tired, irritated, and miserable at this point of the battle. Who is going to win this war? I was determined somehow that I would find a way. We will see.


Part 7 “The Fog begins to clear”

I took about an hour and a half nap under my blanket as I had become very tired. It is now about 3:00 am and I notice that the fog has cleared some as I can now see to the top of the hill, about 70-80 yards in front of me which is the main road to the court that I am stuck on. Five minutes after awakening I am startled by the sight of head lights on the main road passing by the court that I am stuck at the bottom of. At this point, I’m hoping on there way out of the development they would either turn down or look down this snowy hill and see my car and offer me assistance. They must have turned around in the development at the end of the main road, because about 3 minutes later I am disappointed yet again as I am flashing my headlights trying to draw attention, to see the car passing again going back out the main road as I see the tail lights gradually disappear from my view. They must not have been paying attention as my headlights at this point were not the brightest from the weaker battery or they just didn’t want to help, either way there I was by myself again with no help.. I had contemplated getting out and trying to get to the top of that snowy hill in my pumps to ask for their help, but felt it was unsafe to try and walk in the snow wearing only my pumps up a hill where I don’t have great visibility. So, there I was again, just me and my old oldsmobile at the bottom of that hill with a weak battery getting ready to go at it again by ourselves in an attempt to free me and my car from this stuck situation we were in. I figured that by sun up if I couldn’t get it started and unstuck, I would have to try and walk up the hill and call for a tow so that I could get a better cell signal from the top of the hill then the bottom.

C’mon baby, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I pump it 2 times and try again. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpumprrrrrrrrrrrr. Trying not to pump it much, I am still getting the same BS result, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. “Damn you” rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. C’mon rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. The battery is much stronger, but I’m not pumping it right now, just holding the pedal pinned to the floor and I’m not even getting a spit or cough, just a hard rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. What can it be? Maybe the old beast had finally died? But, as I started to think, it had not been tuned up in quite awhile and usually the only way I could get out of these situations was 95% of the time pumping the hell out of the pedal when it acted up like this, which for the last 5 hours I had been doing with no success. Now I was getting angry again thinking about how long I had been at this battle and the person 5 minutes ago that just drove off without offering any help as I sit stranded at the bottom of this hill, but then again, maybe they honestly didn’t see me? Either way, I wasn’t happy as most people wouldn’t be.

Squeak squeak squeak goes the gas throttle cable as I am now impatient and begin a very vigorous bounce up and down on the pedal. “You are going to start for your mommy” I command the car. I am really pumping and bouncing now without even turning the key yet. I happened to glance in the rear view mirror and notice how much I was bouncing up and down on the seat as I could see the entire top half of me moving up and down with each pump on the pedal. I have to say that when seeing myself in the mirror like this, I noticed just how cute I looked in that pink satin robe with lipstick on bouncing away as I continued working that pedal. I stopped for a minute or so to shine a flashlight on my foot pressing the gas pedal and also noticed how cute my feet looked in those 2” Lifestride pumps barefooted, toe cleavage was definitely noticeable in those pumps. This is the part of trying to restart my car where I really notice how much of a “thrill” and challenge it can be to try and restart that motor, no matter how stranded or helpless I was in that situation. I was definitely aggravated and tired at this 3:15 am hour, but sure did notice that I was one cute helpless “Damsel in Distress” trying to get her car restarted at the bottom of that snowy hill. I place another long Capri menthol into my beautiful red lips, light it, and redirect my attention yet again back to the task at hand. I remained determined to get my old car to restart for me and drive out of this snowy, dark court that I was stranded on. The quest continued, pumpumpump, clackclackclack now go my pumps yet again, am I successful finally?



#34 heelsnwheels

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Posted 26 June 2007 - 10:54 PM

I was so sure the Yankees would win the 1960 World Series that, after one beer too many, I made a foolish bet with my college roommate. When the underdog Pirates stole the title with a 9th inning home run in the seventh game, I was obligated to appear at the fall formal dance dressed as a woman! I planned to "ham it up" with a comical outfit and combat boots, but a female friend convinced me I could have the last laugh by making a cameo appearance as a convincing "mystery woman" and revealing my identity later.

At 5'7" and 135 pounds, I needed only a padded bra to fit perfectly into her long black sleeveless gown. The dress had a high collar, shoulder length white gloves covered my arms, and dark stockings disguised my shaved legs when the floor-length skirt swirled up. An expensive platinum blonde human-hair wig gave me a "Marilyn Monroe" look and my smooth complexion responded convincingly to a bit of make-up. As a competition springboard diver and gymnast, I was accustomed to moving on the balls of my feet, and my "coach" couldn't believe I could walk better than she could in strappy sandals with the latest style spike heels. I was ready!

She even found me a suitably "girly" car for the 2 mile drive to the hotel, and on the big night I walked carefully across the parking lot to a pink and white two-tone 1955 Ford hardtop that looked good but was mechanically tired after almost 100,000 miles. As I slid behind the wheel and balanced my high heels unsteadily on the pedals my confidence wavered, and I wished I had brought flat shoes to drive like most women I knew. My grand entrance, however, depended on using the valet parking attendant under the main portico, and changing my shoes would ruin the whole effect.

At least the car was an automatic, so I wouldn't have to worry about slipping off the clutch and stalling once I got it started. That was easier said than done, I was about to discover. I fumbled the key into the slot with my silky gloves and tried the starter as I planted my right heel at the base of the floor-hinged accelerator and pushed down. This was the last year Ford used 6-volt electrical systems and the little V8 cranked slowly with no sign of life. I stretched my ankle and pushed harder, unable to feel how much gas I was giving the car and surprised when my toe thumped against the floor. When it still wouldn't start I realized I would have to try pumping the gas pedal, something I had hoped to avoid while hobbled with high heels.

With my sexy sandal positioned for the best possible leverage, I twisted the key, pointed my toe, rocked on the tip of my spike heel, and began to pump. The car sputtered weakly and resumed cranking. I gave the accelerator five or six hard pumps before I tried again and the car responded by sputtering and chugging several times before it choked and quit. Over and over it teased me with false starts, but it would backfire and stall because I couldn't "milk" the gas pedal gently enough to rev it up. My heel slipped and wobbled on the pedal, my ankle hurt from flexing, and I finally managed to get the car hopelessly flooded.

I knew I would have a better chance of getting it started if I removed my shoe and pumped the gas barefoot, like I had seen my mother and aunt do on several occasions. However, I realized - to my surprise - that I was enjoying my first experience as a helpless "damsel in distress". I looked down at my slinky dress, glamorous gloves, and sexy shoes - an outfit more appropriate for the back of a limo than behind the wheel of balky old car. I felt a strange tingle of excitement followed by the unmistakable stirring of arousal and soon my silk panties were "flooded" just like the old Ford.

I was hooked, and I knew this would not be the last time I would dress up in high heels to struggle with an old car that was stuck or stalled in a difficult situation.

#35 gary0618

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Posted 27 June 2007 - 02:37 AM

Great First Post.

Welcome to the forum

Look forward to hearing more of your stories.


#36 heelsnwheels

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Posted 05 July 2007 - 02:06 PM

I finally got that flooded '55 Ford started after a pause to regain my composure and allow the excess fuel to evaporate. Traffic was light, allowing me to concentrate on my high-heeled footwork and drive to the dance with no problems. My appearance as a "lady of mystery" was actually an anticlimax; I paraded across the balcony, down the spiral staircase, and across the dance floor without tripping or having any close encounters. I don't think I fooled the valet parking attendant, but a generous tip in advance kept his mouth shut and ensured my car would be ready and running if a hasty exit was required.

Eager to escape the attention of a couple who had come outside to smoke - or engage in some other mischief - I pulled the car into gear and stepped on the gas. My high-heeled pedal control still left something to be desired, and I stomped down so hard the car leaped forward and squealed the tires. When I lifted my foot the engine stumbled, and when I put it back down again much too abruptly the car backfired loud enough to wake the dead and stalled out. It rolled to a stop about fifty feet down the driveway as I gave the gas pedal one last futile pump.

Now I had plenty of unwanted attention as half a dozen guys and girls came outside to investigate the noise. Frantically, I twisted the key with my white gloved hand but the Ford just cranked and cranked and cranked. I flexed my ankle and pointed my toe but those heels didn't give me enough leverage to floor the accelerator and clear the flooded engine. The crowd was walking in my direction when, in desperation, I pulled off my right shoe and flattened the gas pedal beneath my stockinged foot.

They were about ten feet from the back bumper when the Ford erupted with a ragged roar that sent clouds of black smoke rolling up the driveway and into their faces. Without regard to abuse of the transmission and drive train, I slammed the car into gear and fishtailed into the street and around the corner. I began to laugh when I realized that my discarded right shoe had nearly bounced out the window when I threw it onto the seat; it would have been the 20th century equivalent of Cindarella losing her glass slipper.

When we met for dinner the following day my roommate (who had been among those in the driveway) related the story of the mystery woman and asked, in jest, if that had been me. After swearing him to secrecy, I laid a photograph on the table. It showed me standing beside the pink and white Ford in my gown, gloves, and heels but without the wig and makeup. He was, probably for the only time in his life, absolutely speechless.

#37 pumplover

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Posted 03 August 2007 - 03:34 PM

I finally got that flooded '55 Ford started after a pause to regain my composure and allow the excess fuel to evaporate. Traffic was light, allowing me to concentrate on my high-heeled footwork and drive to the dance with no problems. My appearance as a "lady of mystery" was actually an anticlimax; I paraded across the balcony, down the spiral staircase, and across the dance floor without tripping or having any close encounters. I don't think I fooled the valet parking attendant, but a generous tip in advance kept his mouth shut and ensured my car would be ready and running if a hasty exit was required.

Eager to escape the attention of a couple who had come outside to smoke - or engage in some other mischief - I pulled the car into gear and stepped on the gas. My high-heeled pedal control still left something to be desired, and I stomped down so hard the car leaped forward and squealed the tires. When I lifted my foot the engine stumbled, and when I put it back down again much too abruptly the car backfired loud enough to wake the dead and stalled out. It rolled to a stop about fifty feet down the driveway as I gave the gas pedal one last futile pump.

Now I had plenty of unwanted attention as half a dozen guys and girls came outside to investigate the noise. Frantically, I twisted the key with my white gloved hand but the Ford just cranked and cranked and cranked. I flexed my ankle and pointed my toe but those heels didn't give me enough leverage to floor the accelerator and clear the flooded engine. The crowd was walking in my direction when, in desperation, I pulled off my right shoe and flattened the gas pedal beneath my stockinged foot.

They were about ten feet from the back bumper when the Ford erupted with a ragged roar that sent clouds of black smoke rolling up the driveway and into their faces. Without regard to abuse of the transmission and drive train, I slammed the car into gear and fishtailed into the street and around the corner. I began to laugh when I realized that my discarded right shoe had nearly bounced out the window when I threw it onto the seat; it would have been the 20th century equivalent of Cindarella losing her glass slipper.

When we met for dinner the following day my roommate (who had been among those in the driveway) related the story of the mystery woman and asked, in jest, if that had been me. After swearing him to secrecy, I laid a photograph on the table. It showed me standing beside the pink and white Ford in my gown, gloves, and heels but without the wig and makeup. He was, probably for the only time in his life, absolutely speechless.


Nice one, thanks 8)

#38 heelsnwheels

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Posted 19 August 2007 - 01:39 PM

According to a BMW commercial I just watched, I'm not the only one who has difficulty driving in high heels. The scene opens with a well dressed woman removing a pair of beautiful black stiletto pumps from her briefcase. We next see her at a workbench operating a power saw as sparks fly in all directions. As she removes her safety glasses to inspect her work we see that she has sliced the heel completely off one shoe. As she walks to her car with a lopsided gait it is apparent that only the right shoe has been mutilated. The purpose is revealed in the final scene as she floors the accelerator of her new 3 series BMW with her homemade "flat" shoe. I've had my share of difficulties driving older cars with extreme heels (and loved every minute) but modern cars are so high-heel-friendly there is no excuse for such extreme measures. When I was an impressionable young boy in the 1950s car commercials frequently depicted women driving in high heeled shoes to emphasize the ease operation with then-new conveniences like power brakes and automatic transmissions. I'd love to know what thinking went into this new BMW commercial.....

#39 jmc

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Posted 19 August 2007 - 06:24 PM

. . . she has sliced the heel completely off one shoe. . . .



Oh, the horror!

#40 pumplover

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Posted 02 September 2007 - 10:29 AM

Not seen this advert before. Do you know where I can find it?