Pffft. No.

I know, right?

Britain has “bad neighbor” laws for exactly this sort of thing.

You know, for a guy who normally runs over the other team so he can take the shot...

Vintage Volvo P1800 shooting brake? OH HELL YES. Mrs. Orca’s BFF had one of these and it’s like a goddamn cockroach—you can’t kill it. It lives on as her daughter’s DD and has been driven the length and breadth of North America, three or four times over. They’ve taken great care with it--almost obsessive, in fact--and…

They’re remoras: hangers-on sucking up the shark’s leftovers.

Ah. So utter pussies, then.

I...kind of like it?

Agree 100%. I listen every week and he always has interesting choices. 

This is a righteous and proper outlook. This is my face when I read these stories:

Michaela and Blayne aren’t the heroes we want, but they’re the heroes we need. Someone get them a scholarship in automotive engineering STAT.

PREACH IT.

100% TRUTH.

First place: Lil Nas X, for his tripartite “Game of Wakandan Star Wars” ensemble.

I know, right? The brother on the left is like, “I got your Speed Racer right here, bitch!”

“It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it.” (Muhammad Ali)

Hamilton? He’s the boss, only it’s after a Face-Heel Turn like Michael’s from The Good Place. (Seriously, I’ve never seen a better FHT than that. Ted Danson deserved an Emmy just for those thirty seconds.)

Your grandfather was a goddamn American hero, and I say that unironically.

I would have hoped even Florida’s commission would have stopped the farce.

My mother-in-law had a Toyota Camry in beige desert sand mica. Comfy, nice ride, got good gas mileage, and it was as exciting as driving a sofa.