Induction+exhaust (over 10K) equals Uunnnnnuh.

If you think a woman who can't distinguish between potato chips, beer, and elastic-waistband pants can see that dating a child molester is, um ,er creepy, then don't expect her to complain that said child molester is continually fucking the wrong-fold-of-many she's got.

Karma. Instantaneous. Thanks Kate.

Djah know the engine was pirated from Mert-Cedes, lock, stock and barrel? No matter, my Two-Forty had the twin Weber setup and is still my favorite.

All she receives are complements, respectful at that, and, except for the 2-minute-stalker, No Big Deal. She chooses to hate it. Wear a different shirt trolling-D-cup Fem-O'Keefe.

Bitch is trouble.

Yuji, they're paying him a bit more than 40, but guess what? It aint about the money for Seb.

Seb Vettel is not going to like this.

Industrial Steam Iron.

5-MPH bumpers are a bitch. Gimme an Aston with Gulf Livery?

Induction noise is just as important as exhaust note.

Joyous riddance.

Hey Bristol, China called. They want your extra Chin back.

Potarf. Meth. Religion. But not in Florida? What's next? Dogs and cats living together?

Doughy tee-shirted fuck knows what the Loud pedal is for. Hold on for review while I eat a chili dog in the Pits.

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.