Confessions of a lazy ma..... I mean advertising man!

The evocative sounds of Benny Benassi play quietly in the background. Windows down, a slight breeze, the sound of my engine humming a bassy tune at low revs and, searing humid heat that could convection cook a small rodent. Mmmmm the makings of a good race story.

To my left another burgundy/maroon colored satria with a custom exhuast. Sounds bad ass I must say. Comparable even to mine, hah! A careful glance to the left, told me i wasn't to be afraid, no boost meters from what I could see! It's go time!

I roll back and forth lightly reving between 1 and 2,000 rpm (Yeah, yeah i am a ricer), just to let him know I'm there. I catch him looking at the adjacent light, watching for yellow, no doubt! That can only mean one thing.... He is down with the flip mode masta pimp flex gear riding hog trailing shit kicking drag race, yea yea! (Whew say that fast 3 times!)

Green flares up and i am all geared up to go! I soft launch to try to get him on board then, floor it like there was a cockroach under my foot! Zooooom! And there I go, faster than greased lightning I tells yah! But wait! Where has my interim foe to my foe(s) gone?! Backwards of course! (Silly you!) But then again he wasn't racing me in the first place! BAH! Nevertheless I shall take the victory, thank you! That should make up for the trashing I received at the hands of a turbo satria! >:(

Yup, ricing should be a sport and, if it were I'm so sure I would get an A* (*--> loosely translated at star) You may commence by sending your fan mail to "I am a bronze god" at "king ricer chin chin la killer!" K thanks! >:D