![]() 10/02/2014 at 21:48 • Filed to: None | ![]() | ![]() |
With some car-related Shakespearesque poetry.
A clutch, a stick, the squeeling tyres ablaze
Doth thick smoke make. Alas! I strive to be,
A wealthy man, for rubber is too high
A price for such a peasant. If though wouldst,
I pray lend me but two farthings or more
That I may eat, and burn my tyres today
![]() 10/02/2014 at 21:54 |
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To hoon, or not to hoon: that is the question
For you and I are past our racing days
Beware the idles of Mopars.