You have this story all wrong. The R/T was pulled over for not speeding. That’s a clear violation of Dodge Law.

The lesson here is that you should always have a big wing on your big Lambo, problem solved.

I was raised to respect peoples cars, even if I did not like them, you had to respect them because they were someone else’s property, and like me they worked hard to get what they had. I am raising my kids the same way, but this moron on a bike showed zero respect.

Come at me $7,500
M37 yeaaaah

1976 Dodge Power Wagon. 440 on gas/propane, 727 automatic, 4” lift, 17” wheels, 35” tires. $8500.

I still don’t quite understand what they were dune down there, but all’s swell that ends swell.

Sounds like my kind of guy.

Some one's gotta introduce him to breakfast burritos, at the very least.

Is there a Tie Fighter sound setting? There should be...

Disagree. Lion's face is full on "GTFO I KILL YOU NOW!" There is 0% "friendly" going on here.

“We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not…

Yeah it’s funny how the numbers add up, because it turned out the Z wasn’t even half the car that the E46 M3 was.

This car is so fat and irrelevant I literally can’t even

Absolutely. To make it look colder outside.

I hope they say "hut, hut, hut, hut," in tinny little robot voices.

Is that a car over there? With all that dust in the air, how can the spectators see the race? Perhaps more importantly, how do they keep their mint juleps from getting all gritty?

Feet up on the dash.

I’d just like to say that the girl in the picture can be as naughty a passenger as she wants ;)

Tell me how to drive, like I’m 16 again. I’m almost 34 years old and my mother still does this. Look, if I’m doing something dangerous then by all means, complain. But you don’t need to tell me there’s a car waiting to turn out of a driveway an eighth of a mile ahead.

My life in one chart