LS400 is a cool car. It’s for old stuffy people, but still cool none the less.
A friend of mine named Duy Nguyen bought one. Not because he is old, but because he wanted to make it cool. So he put in a 350Z 6 speed manual transmission and SSR AD (Agle Dishes) 18×10 front and 18×12 rear. If I was an old person I would shake my fist at him.
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I bet you have never met a Conquistador before. Mike Quinonez knows that, and that is exactly what he is counting on for his plan to succeed. Dressed as a mild manored mechanic and his ship hidden off the coast of Jersey, Mike has gone undiscovered since setting sail from Spain and landing on US soil. His plan? His plan is to gain peoples trust by offering good service at a reasonable prices, then when they least suspect it…take over the world.
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…Some legends are true. This just so happens to be one of them. In a land far far away, known as Coatsville, Pennsyltucky lives a man. He is the Richest Whitemale and his fox dog is Kaazfield Jenkins.
Seriously, that is his name. Well Rich Whiteman to be exact. Richman as I have come to know him is one of the manliest men on the planet.
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As was said in a previous installment (https://fantasticvoyagesunlimited.com/2013/03/27/reese-marin/) Mauricio, a driver for the infamous Los Goonies tribe, chose to keep his car purple therefore going with the second choice. After getting his exhaust made, and finishing up a few loose ends at One Motion Garage he dropped his car off at Sticker Chick Graphics up in NJ.
The result was a well laid graphic pretty much identical to the rendering.
Whether or not the style is your cup of tea Sticker Chick did a phenomenal job and just in time for Reese to turn a wheel in anger for the first time in two years since kicking his life force draining KA-T addiction.
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A plan and Livery for Mauricio Marin for the 2013 season. Reese will be doing SWD as well as US Drift.
Reese picked the second livery and the car was completed this past Monday. Chaz Boyd will be photographing it on Wednesday.
Keep Drifting fun.
My homie Ahmed does just that.
So much so people want stickers of his face.
The latest hand render from Punchy.
I have a friend named Craig.
He drives a 6 speed AWD Volvo V50 wagon and wears Ray Bans while he does it. Whut.
“That’s a girls car!”
Well shut your mouth little boy because it’s not.
OK, yeah maybe lots of women and liver spotted men with prostate concerns drive them, but not in the 6-speed AWD trim. A turbo 2.5 liter inline 5 engine massaged with so many nerdy performance parts a Subaru enthusiast would be jealous, makes this wagon a bit more than a plush commuter car. In fact when you go to Volvo to test drive one of these they ask you to remove your shirt to verify you have hair on your chest. Yes Craig has a baby seat in the back, and yes he uses it to drop off his dry cleaning but do not make mention of that in his presence or you may be in danger of an 80’s style stomp out.
These boots haven’t been soaking in ivory liquid junior…
For years I have been hearing arguments about stickers. Some say they add 10 units of power per sticker, others use that as the butt of jokes.
Craig has many stickers on his car…well in his car, mostly the engine bay.
I have driven Craig’s car and I can say it is fast.
I have no proof that it is because of the stickers, but I have a feeling it is.
Either that or the force.
I didn’t take any pictures of the outside of Craigs car because it’s so fast all the pictures came out blurry.
I pulled my S14 into a dimly lit gas station. The sweet smell of coolant stung my nose and the heat of an overworked SR20 slamed into my neck and face as I lifted my hood in disgust.
‘272 cams were a bad choice.’ I thought to myself as I walked towards the stations bathroom to fill my coolant bottle with water.
As I filled my gurgling radiator with water, a car that I had heard pass by already approached and pulled into the station.
“Hey, what kind of car is that?” A voice with a South African accent questioned.
“It’s a 240sx I replied.”
Usually my response would be met with ‘Oh cool I have a Eclipse I’m trying to hook up.’ or something similar. But what ensued was a surprisingly pleasant conversation with what turned out to be one of my best friends, Punch Maleka.
“Wait…what is your name?” I asked already embarrassed that I was skeptical that someone so calm and friendly could have such a cool and menacing first name.
His name was Punch, a man gifted with many talents.
It has been years since that night on a road I never take home from work, at a time I am usually elsewhere, that I ran into Punch, yet he never stops surprising me. He is an excellent tennis professional, he makes music, DJ’s, and is making his way into Motorsports as a hobby. But one of his skills that I admire the most he is quietest about, his art. As far as I know Punch has had no artistic instruction. But his renderings are better than many of the people I attended art school with. I was browsing a few of his drawings and was inspired to share.
Talent in the raw.
Check out some of Punch’s albums and singles here: http://www.punchuashen.com
Once upon a time in a land far away lived a beard named Bruno. This beard was so sad and cold for he had no where to lay his posterior. Made fun of by the other beards with faces to attach themselves to he decided that he would go on a voyage. With bits of left over mustache and neck trimmings the beard constructed a rocketship. He filled it with Sporting Waves pomade and boarded the ship.
Only two and a half days into the journey the ship ran out of pomade and crash landed. Bruno checked the navigational instruments and was immediately perplexed.
“Florida?! Oh whoa is me!” cried Bruno the Beard. “Florida fails so hard! I will never find a suitable face to be my host.”
Bruno exited the ship and walked dejected into the dark night. It was unusually cold and Bruno was tired so he broke into the next house he found and crawled onto what he thought was a pile of beef. Too tired to care he fell into a deep sleep.
Hertrech woke the next morning with a start. What a strange dream he thought to himself as he rubbed his eyes. He dropped to his knees to say his morning prayers “God you know I have been asking for a beard for quite sometime. But not just any beard. I need to be able to execute Haraguchi style drifts and smoky burnouts with ease so please find me a beard dripping with testosterone and chunks of dried tiger in it – Amen.”
He walked to the bathroom scratching his face still groggy. But something felt strange. He slammed the medicine cabinet shut and peered into the mirror. There was what appeared to be a black growth on his chin and cheeks. He ran to his bedroom grabbed his glasses and returned to the mirror fully awake. His heart started pounding as he inspected his face covered in hair. He pulled on it as drops of testosterone dripped into the sink. He felt power surge through his extremities.
Immediately Hertrech grabbed his keys and ran to the driveway. He plopped into his FC and started the engine. Smoke billowed from the rear wheels, women were cheering, men stood in ovation, old ladies hearing aids squealed as the smokiest burnout the world had ever seen played out before them.
The beard had found a home, and The Big Hert had become a man. Florida was saved.