See that nice stealthy low look, that’s not coilovers, that’s tired suspension. I got it from a sketchy guy. It became known to after purchase and spirited driving on a canyon road that through a vehicle inspection of heavy metal clanging it had a missing right control arm. After getting insurance I received the carfax, the odometer was a lie and was rolled back 125,000 miles. It is now close to 300000 miles. I’ve had it for 6 months. Near death experiences non existent, the car is death. The adrenaline factor leaves once acceptance of the need to walk a tight rope to keep everything in line s I walk down car enthusiasts in congested traffic. It is only excitement that lives when the cold start sounds and the engine starved of oil and attention ignite and rumble to make others believe it’s boosted. And a pop when I redline every so often that the seratonin gives me life to continue the facade. The look back at my car saying sweet nothings to it of what I would do to you. The tires so cheap they are good. It’s all feel in this eggplant, because none of the gauges works. Redlining is my heroine. It runs ofn the grace of God because I got it blessed by a priest. Godspeed is what it only knows
