Seems like every time i get a chance to do something stupid in my car i have my wife with me ridding shot gun. But she is starting to learn that no matter how loud she starts yelling some times i just have to let it loose.
So here I am loading up to roll to Smokey bones to watch the Kansas University game, and I head down Jefferson Street. I come up to a light with a Mustang GT (of course with custom exhaust and stickers in the window. Driver was probably wearing a hat that he saw fred durst wear in some ****ty music video) But he was the target.
As I sit at the light i try making some eye contact, all the while my wife is acting like she doesn't know me. Unfortunatly the Mustang didn't want to play. So I sit back in my seat a little disapointed when a yellow turd on wheels caught my eye sitting to my left. I look at the car. Some canary yellow turd focus hatchback thing. Body kit, Racing wheels and tires, and the always present Fart cannon on back. As my eyes make there way to the front of the car i notice the window is rolled down and some chode sitting in the driver seat looks at me, Reaches up with his middle finger and pulls his awesome sun glasses down. Did i mention it was cloudy, overcast, and freakin cold.. Then he just nods his head and looks foward. The laughing starts.
That mother trucker had to be watching the light caddy corner to us because before ours even turned green he jumped out about a whole car ahead. The light turned green, I let it eat, and I locked up. I caught that dusche bag in about 40 yards and blew right by him with the super charger screaming at him. in a short bit I'm doing 75 in a 45 and shut it down for a red light. Dude was still trying to catch up, had to be about four car lengths behind. at this red light the spot to my left was still open. He chose to change lanes, cut his loses, and pull in behind me.
I Love my Prix..
Long live F1B3R
