(no subject)
i drive a heavy modified honda prelude, the engine has been torn apart and rebuilt - twice. the automatic transmission was torn out for a standard. it has been turbocharged and defiled in every possible manner. it has twice power it had when it rolled off the assembly line. owning this car is a very labor intensive hobby, and my back is starting to get mad at me for it, but i love to learn how everything works, take it apart, and put it back together the way that I want it to be, not some manufacture trying to make a user friendly, safe, reliable car. the way i want it to be is quite different: gritty, mean, fast, and loud. few things have brought me as much joy as owning and driving this car.
i just got finished doing some work on it when i decided to drive around the block to make sure i didnt mess anything up. i live around the block from an intersection where all the el salvadorians where i live hang out (russel and mt vernon) so theres a mob of people on the sidewalk as usual. as i let out the clutch and mash on the gas, shift to second and hear the monsterous wail of compressed air blowing off of the intake(a noise that coincides with pure heart pumping adrenaline) somebody on the curb yells something at me through my cracked tinted windows. what was it they said? i have no idea. i wondered if it was something good or was it something bad.
but then i decided that it doesnt even matter. thousands of cars drive down this road everyday. but if nobody notices, what was the point of being there at all? this is why women dress slutty. its why rednecks act obnoxious and try to get in fights. its the whole reason why the westboro baptists even exist. if it makes me a poser to be getting a reaction, so be it, but it puts a smile on my face.
i just got finished doing some work on it when i decided to drive around the block to make sure i didnt mess anything up. i live around the block from an intersection where all the el salvadorians where i live hang out (russel and mt vernon) so theres a mob of people on the sidewalk as usual. as i let out the clutch and mash on the gas, shift to second and hear the monsterous wail of compressed air blowing off of the intake(a noise that coincides with pure heart pumping adrenaline) somebody on the curb yells something at me through my cracked tinted windows. what was it they said? i have no idea. i wondered if it was something good or was it something bad.
but then i decided that it doesnt even matter. thousands of cars drive down this road everyday. but if nobody notices, what was the point of being there at all? this is why women dress slutty. its why rednecks act obnoxious and try to get in fights. its the whole reason why the westboro baptists even exist. if it makes me a poser to be getting a reaction, so be it, but it puts a smile on my face.