Is that after you spend ~$500 and over three hours at the mechanic, you no longer care the moment you get behind the wheel. You just embrace the fact that for one brief moment, everything works perfectly. It’s like living in Berlin in 1945. Sure, those Russians hanging out to the east of the city seem a biiiit suspicious, but hey, the Reich is gone.

On a related note, I was watching old-new Top Gear on yesterday and saw this example of Top Lies.

None the less, I’ll choose to believe it. Because that’s exactly the sort of willful delusion needed to own a Jag.