I’m a hunter.

Because he doesn’t work for Conde Nast?

When I’ve had access to small independant shops with employees who actually know things about cars I use them.

Had a ‘91 that had 215k on the clock when I sold it. All but 36k of which was with a lift and 34” BFGs.

Had a ‘91 that had 215k on the clock when I sold it. All but 36k of which was with a lift and 34” BFGs.

Now I need to know at what speed the train would have split the limo in two.

It seems there are two primary forms of this. In the first, you have the parent who apparently thinks that they are entitled to “take a break” from parenting so they can enjoy their dinner with zero fucks given as to how that impacts the dinning experience of those around them.

...and one very rich old white lady without an honest bone in her body.

Toward the end of my Junior year of HS I broke my right leg. My vehicle was a ‘64 Ford F-100 with a manual (three on the tree for the muthafuckin win!).

Tweak concept to short haul commercial trucking and you are onto something.

I doubt it....but wow.

Carpenter is waving his fists around, mid corner, with another car just a few feet to his left and more not far behind.

My pants are all tingly.

This thing, whatever it is, is kinda giving me the itch.

Kokopelli is a fun mountain biking trail.

Buggaring up brake line fittings. Buy line wrenches, they're cheaper than brake lines.

The DS is what comes to mind when I hear the name so I’m going with that.

It can’t shake the widespread sentiment that it needs more power.

Sleek, ultra-modern, high tech styling + 1976 CB550 riding position. Odd.

Myth