(no subject)
ok so we all love cars right? if you dont, start, theyre incredible. i myself am a fan of the asian imports, although a sexy beamer or mercedes would suit me as well. but you know, you put in a turbo, maybe some bottles, you get a little power, and efficiency is the name of the game. how much oxygen can you really get in that tiny little cylinder though? sometimes a huge block of american muscle is just what the doctor ordered. how would you not shit your pants if you heard a purr to your right and up prowls a mach 1. whats that whine? a supercharger! holy shit! you look over, he (she?!) looks over. the engine revs. hearts are beating, everyones eyes are on the light. you see the other one green... both engines going. yellow... cars jumping, bucking, craving those gears to fall into place. red... sweaty palms gripping hand-stitched leather, short-shifters. its down to the wire. GREEN! the pony pops its clutch out, tires squealing like so many banshees. a puff of white smoke rises from the street and all you see are the quickly dimming tail lights that prove that sometimes, as much as you hate to admit it, there really is no replacement for displacement. alright, i have to go masturbate now. cactoos out.