Only the Neutered need apply.

Three words. That simple. Cost Of Ownership.

Name that car?

That tail is now a rudder.

Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao (the ABCs') are wonderful throwbacks to the Dutch Colonization era. Peaceful, unpretentious and delightful.

Hey Bristol, China called. Want your fucking extra Chin back.

This couple are Lemon Beagles. Laconic and patient with a wry sense of humor.

Word up.

Really?

Everybody's missing the fact that his head is Gigantic, or, that's not his body. It's Earl from the mail room!

The longer the time between impact and stop the better it is for the driver. The energy of the crash is dissipated over a relatively long time-span.

They are so Laconic. I love them both, Bee

Q. What's the seat for? A. People who shit AND piss sitting down. I'll bet a dollar to a do-nut you wipe forward and create an underball minefield of the Dingles. Thanks to porn you expect a marathon blow-job and are disapointed when things end quickily.

Yess Yess. When will your experiment in self-flaggelation lose the fucking cables and wires?

1985 was a bad year for human tastefulness. Studio 54 was in full blast. Give me a break. Too much front overhang, way too much rear. No consideration for polar-moment-of-inertia. Swoopy dragrace Guido divorce-lawyer-styling. RIP.

God DAMMNIT! This is a special cars blog. Nostalgia blows. Not even a VistaCruiser. Let us please return to our roots.

I shall breathe easier. Thanks.

Do you desire some pussy? With a Miata? Sadly No.

What about Conn?