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Flying down the autobahn in a rented super car. Two hookers going at it in the backseat. One giving road head. Blasting "What is Love?" by Haddaway then flying off a cliff.
SC*AR (Schwarz Army)
No longer stock ride height, rolling as low as a daily driver in New England should without worrying about breaking an oil pan. :up:
It really doesn't matter. It's not like I'll be able to reflect on it or cherish the moment. Additionally, each method is as meaningless as the next. I'm far more concerned with how I live.
"We praise or find fault, depending on which of the two provides more opportunity for our powers of judgement to shine."
As an old man with a life of accomplishment behind me, family that loves me, and in one helluva badass sports car driving like a bat outta hell after ive been diagnosed with some miserable form of cancer.
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