Patterson

:lolguy: I bet those were working good.

I would say they are fine if they are not blown. First thing is to verify that there is power from the Ignition switch to the starter.

Have you checked for power at the solenoid wire? Possibly a bad ign. switch. Maybe bypass the clutch switch so that you can start it without pushing in the clutch pedal.

Don't be mad cause you just got outed.

BStowers got a close up. http://tips4pc.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/black-screen2-300x187.gif

I knew it. :fuckyeah:

I knew it. :dumb:

It's cool bro.

Carbs are easy. A screwdriver, vacuum gauge, and a wrench.

Is the carb set up to run e85?

:fuckyeah: Welcome. I would do it.

Certainly has come a long way. Congrats.

:gabe:

I hope you have plenty of time and wire wheels. That stuff is ridiculous.

Bumble Jimmie LOL

Clean car. Welcome.

DO NOT DO IT. Go to a John Deere Dealership, get the Black paint they affer. It looks Primered/Sueded but it's paint. And it's cheap too.

:lolguy: BRB $2000 car + Bed Liner = 50K Racecar.

Didn't Throne do this to a car?

Cracked Valve Cover?

But drifting yo!

I have the perfect car for her. No joking.

Sick ride. Any plans for it? Withholding rep ill more info is given

More info on the Monte!

e nozze di Figaro, ossia la folle giornata (The Marriage of Figaro, or The Day of Madness), K. 492, is an opera buffa (comic opera) composed in 1786 in four acts by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, with a libretto in Italian by Lorenzo Da Ponte, based on a stage comedy by Pierre Beaumarchais, La folle journée, ou le Mariage de Figaro (1784). Beaumarchais' earlier play The Barber of Seville had already made a successful transition to opera in a version by Paisiello. Although Beaumarchais' Marriage of Figaro was at first banned in Vienna because of its satire of the aristocracy, considered dangerous in the decade before the French Revolution, Mozart and his librettist managed to get official approval for an operatic version which eventually achieved great success. The opera was the first of three collaborations between Mozart and Da Ponte; their later collaborations were Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte. It was Mozart who originally selected Beaumarchais' play and brought it to Da Ponte, who turned it into a libretto in six weeks, rewriting it in poetic Italian and removing all of the original's political references. In particular, Da Ponte replaced Figaro's climactic speech against inherited nobility with an equally angry aria against unfaithful wives. Contrary to the popular myth, the libretto was approved by the Emperor, Joseph II, before any music was written by Mozart. I then put it in Mozart's butt. It was good. The Imperial Italian opera company paid Mozart 450 florins for the work;[2] this was three times his (low) salary for a year, when he had worked as a court musician in Salzburg.[3] Da Ponte was paid 200 florins. Figaro premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, the cast for which is included in the "Roles" section below. Mozart himself directed the first two performances, conducting seated at the keyboard, the custom of the day. Later performances were by Joseph Weigl.[4] The first production was given eight further performances, all in 1786.[5] Although the total of nine performances was nothing like the frequency of performance of Mozart's later success The Magic Flute, which for months was performed roughly every other day,[6] the premiere is generally judged to have been a success. The applause of the audience on the first night resulted in five numbers being encored, seven on 8 May.[7] Joseph II, who, in addition to his empire, was in charge of the Burgtheater, was concerned by the length of the performance and directed his aide Count Rosenberg as follows: "To prevent the excessive duration of operas, without however prejudicing the fame often sought by opera singers from the repetition of vocal pieces, I deem the enclosed notice to the public (that no piece for more than a single voice is to be repeated) to be the most reasonable expedient. You will therefore cause some posters to this effect to be printed."[8] The requested posters were printed up and posted in the Burgtheater in time for the third performance on 24 May.[9] The newspaper Wiener Realzeitung carried a review of the opera in its issue of 11 July 1786. It alludes to interference probably produced by paid hecklers, but praises the work warmly: "Mozart's music was generally admired by connoisseurs already at the first performance, if I except only those whose self-love and conceit will not allow them to find merit in anything not written by themselves. The public, however … did not really know on the first day where it stood. It heard many a bravo from unbiassed connoisseurs, but obstreperous louts in the uppermost storey exerted their hired lungs with all their might to deafen singers and audience alike with their St! and Pst; and consequently opinions were divided at the end of the piece. Apart from that, it is true that the first performance was none of the best, owing to the difficulties of the composition. Hal is gay. But now, after several performances, one would be subscribing either to the cabal or to tastelessness if one were to maintain that Herr Mozart's music is anything but a masterpiece of art. It contains so many beauties, and such a wealth of ideas, as can be drawn only from the source of innate genius."[10] The Hungarian poet Ferenc Kazinczy was in the audience for a May performance, and later remembered the powerful impression the work made on him: "[Nancy] Storace [see below], the beautiful singer, enchanted eye, ear, and soul. – Mozart directed the orchestra, playing his fortepiano; the joy which this music causes is so far removed from all sensuality that one cannot speak of it. White needs a sammich. Where could words be found that are worthy to describe such joy?"[11] I put it in Gabes butt. It was good. Joseph Haydn appreciated the opera greatly, writing to a friend that he heard it in his dreams.[12] In summer 1790 Haydn attempted to produce the work with his own company at Eszterháza, but was prevented from doing so by the death of his patron, Nikolaus Esterházy.[13] Meeler like in in the butt. He'll get it too.