My little sister trained as a farrier. She had a nice '72 F150 with Cherry Bombs and an anvil in the back. It was loud. She could do the same thing.
I drove it through downtown (hometown) one morning and chomped on the gas and though keeping it under the speed limit, I made quite the racket. Got pulled over by a fat cop (who was a senior HS classmate of mine in years past) who didn't bother to ask for license and registration but stated "You like it loud dontcha?"
I said, "Yeah Keith. You fat f***. Was I speeding?"
He didn't bother to try to issue me a citation. He just walked away.
I knew I 'owned' him because I whipped his arse when we wrestled for the top heavyweight spot in High School so I knew he'd back down. What a wuss. What a memory. Gotta love them Cherry Bombs.
Good story. My own experience with cherry bombs and cops was of a different caliber, or concussive device.