How to make people hate you; Buy a race car.

 It is a hard thing to be excited about because friends and family do not know what to think of racing sickness. The worried family members think you must be spending hundreds of thousands of dollars while in reality I am just scrounging by on a few hundred, dumpsters, and compassionate fellow race junkies relinquishing bits that need a good home. I bought this 1979 Pontiac Grand Prix a month ago. Between the vibe of weird envy from some of my two wheeler friends and the fact that I don't care to publicize me personal life much on the damn instagram sham  (Not sure why I do here) I have not shared it but here and now I spill my guts; I am into race cars. I am currently reading no less than four books about Pikes Peak Hill Climb History, Eight back issues of Super Chevy, and numerous racing/ performance parts catalogues.  The car has an established history of Hill Climb racing in Colorado. The car was sold race ready.... ten years ago. To somebody who though they wanted to use it for circle track. They never did, thankfully but they did rob it's engine and transmission. Err.  I bought it for $1K even plus $175 in van gas to go pick it up with my super high quality low and light race car trailer. One of my customers then sold me a complete 350 engine and tranny combo for $150 and I am now in the process of figuring out how to build them for under $20K. Not! More like nothing or whatever hepatitis infested machine shop trash cans I have to dig through. Maybe I should just keep earning my spendings the best way I know how and that is fixing and pimping the shit out of motorbikes. My shop has been crazy fucking busy this year. Like three dicked dog busy. It is like my spring time rush has never ended. Make some hay while the sun shines and keep the consumer driven capitalist hamster wheel a spinning I shall. Living that American dream. Long tickle the dick Dick Trickle.