typ jämt när jag är i plugget. Både jobbigt och intressant.
"Nice car," he'll start. "Whaddaya got in there?"
"In ... the car? Like eight pounds of Jack in the Box wrappers, a flat 2-liter of Alpine Mist and a broken flashlight," you'll answer, entirely accurately.
"Ha! No, I mean, what is that, the 318?"
"No, it's ... uh," you'll stammer, just trying to save some face, "the other one."
"The 426?" He'll reply, impressed.
"Hell yes," you'll answer, practically ejaculating relief.
"The 4-barrel?"
"Naw, man, like ... seven. Seven barrels."
"Shit, custom job. You bore that thing out?"
"Bored it till it couldn't walk in the morning," you'll laughingly reply, at no point in this conversation having had the slightest clue what you two were discussing. Cars, you'd say, if you had to venture a guess.
"Cool, man, cool. Got a 440 myself. Went to put a new intake on her yesterday, forgot to hook back up the PCV valve and fouled the plugs. Came out to pick up some new ones and a pack of smokes. But man, now I'm thinking I should just take that money and go for a 777 instead."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," you'll blindly agree.
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