Hooniverse Asks- What Would You Do With a Crate Motor?

Let’s say you’re sitting in the bathtub, enjoying a relaxing soak, when the doorbell rings. You curse whoever is disturbing you and quickly jump out of the tub. Throwing on a robe, you make your way to the front door, only to be greeted by the site of a stake bed truck pulling away, its diesel clatter reverberating through the neighborhood upon every shift. Looking down, you see a wooden crate with something ominous peering out, and the letters LS visible between the slats. Yanking the shipping label from the crate you note that it has your address but the name is unintelligible due to a smudge of what looks to be mustard, probably from the driver’s lunch. Calling the shipper is of no avail as they say the address was correct and you’d need to take it up with the originating party, but they won’t tell you who that is. Eventually you give up and are resigned to the fact that this is a situation of finder’s keepers, losers weepers. So now you’re stuck with this crate motor, 444-lbs of V8 sitting on your front porch, right smack dab where the mail man drops your monthly issue of Cat Fancy, so you’ve got to get it out of there. Running around to the garage, your robe flapping like crazy bird wings, you drag out the cherry picker and leveler and roll them up to the porch. Hoisting the well-packed motor isn’t tough, although you get hydraulic fluid all over your robe and notice the neighbors are starting to peer out of their windows so you decide it might be a good idea to throw on some pants at the very least. Eventually, you are dressed, and the crate motor is sitting in the garage. You contemplate it over a cold beer and wonder what to do with your new-found bounty. Walking around the crate you lean against your old Miata that’s been sitting there for months with a burned valve. The layer of dust covering it excites with that action and fills the air with tiny motes that reflect the light coming in through the window. They then settle on the ’32 Ford High-Boy sitting next to the Miata.  Tt’s equally immobile due to a gaping hole that stands between the upright radiator shell and the firewall. Taking a long, slow gulp from your beer you reflect that it’s been years since that car has seen the light of day, and even more since the ’64 Malibu SS in the last bay of your garage has been out – its 396 still with rod punched through the block. Shaking your head, and taking another swig of your lager, you think to yourself, what am I going to do with this damn motor? Okay, snap out of it, that’s just kind of everybody’s fantasy, but imagine your were a recipient of the unexpected gift of a crate motor – and it doesn’t have to be an LS-anything, it could be a Ford 302 or 347 Stroker, or . . . whatever. The question is, where would your drop it? Do you already have a place to put it like our fictional friend above? Or, would you go out and find a recipient for this heart transplant? Or, would you un-box it, throw a piece of heavy glass on top of it and make it the centerpiece of your living room feng shui? Image sources: [Corvetteforums, guaranteedhorsepower]

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