And on an MC, if someone is going to get hurt, it’s almost certainly going to be said rider.

Can story please be updated to read “The aptly-named William Crum”.

The kind sitting behind their keyboard eating lunch.

If you looked really closely at the pic next to my username you’d see the 2001 e46 330i that I destroyed with CF hood and mock CSL CF trunk, among other crimes to humanity [phony cf wrap roof, phony angel eyes, hand painted interior/exterior parts, etc.].

As a car-loving kid in a noncar [broke] family nursing it’s late 70s malaise station wagon into dust, I admired and desired these cars, especially anything vaguely touched by the Eurosport gene. Remember that prior to these cars [Corsica/Beretta/Taurus/Sable etc.] just about everything US-built was a squarish box on…

Wow, Adriana Gonzalez pouts, complains and ultimately does not produce a win when he had the chance himself. What a departure from his MLB career. Is there any player with less emotional fortitude and emptier numbers? Red Sox fans say “no” [insert image of pouty face Adriana taking his ball home to play by himself].

This is a solid theory; also, perhaps the raucous nature of the demolition derby ensures that these young humanoid future embedded pilots do not become too large, strong or self-sufficient, lest they attempt to wrestle control back from the cars again. Essentilly the bus shakes the babies until they are devoid of…

I drive a red Sterling and the seats recline!

Thank god they had the common decency to guage its eyes out and remove the headlights before torturing the body. Seeing this poor old boy blink his way through such an execution would have been enough to command murder charges... and we KNOW the eyes do not live on the windshield.

I’m calling cheat on this. Fender-mounted JDM sideviews double as Vettel-era F1 RBR flexible aero. You can see the mirrors crouch down a bit as the driver enters the back stretch, providing just the right amount of front end downforce. FIA disapproves and Jean Todt craps himself with glee.

I can imagine a very real scenario where some poor hombre owned that car, took acid, listened to this album, then puked all over the album cover. Tight orange corduroy bell-bottoms may or may not have been involved.

Or Martini and Rossi Asti Spumanti.

The winner is definitely Sebastian Vettel.

As a lover of words this is a good usage, even by Jalop’s typically clever standards. Anyone who loves this engine likely has a hairy chest, or aspires to one, or was really pumped to have one in ‘74. Maybe also a beard and/or a longish Caesar/bowl cut a la Larry Wilcox on CHiPs. For some reason this car does call for…

As a youth staring out the back of my parents’ ‘77 Malibu Classic wagon (where I as the youngest of four was deposited sans seat belt or any thought toward safety beyond the albeit battleship-esque build of our family schooner) I would ogle at all the strange manifestations of roadgoing glory... and I must admit, this…

It’s no coincidence that the guy in front decided to wear a pink shirt that day or that the gentleman behind him was perfectly positioned to accept and film this “accident”.

I think it’s either a direct Moose protest or god’s hand that makes the accident occur precisely before this mix gets even crappier. Notice the inflection/break right after impact. This is not a coincidence.

Insert Benny Hill soundtrack plz