It’s a horrible, tacky, maggot-infested, clap-infected sack of rhinoceros crap that is categorically a sandpaper dildo to the ass of good automotive taste.

And that’s exactly what makes it so great.

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It’s the kind of car in which you never need to flip off other drivers or pedestrian - the car simply does it for you at all times. It’s ugly and it doesn’t give a rat’s ass. It literally gives no fucks about what you think of it. It exists in the same world that you do, and if you don’t like it, it’ll tell you take a short walk off a tall cliff.

In other words, it is, in automotive form, what we all wish we could be, but never will be: a cocksure little bastard that does what they want, when they want - consequences be damned.

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Seriously, this thing is awesome.

Stuff an LS9 under the hood, upgrade the hell out of the brakes and suspension, and go tell everyone in the world to go shit on the salad bar at Soup Plantation. Better yet, drive this thing to Soup Plantation during the middle of the lunch rush, shit on the salad bar yourself, and drive off like a maniac intent on watching the world burn.

‘Murica. \m/