Daily Dose of Hate

For those who know me, you know that my car, G-Whip the II, is my heart. A rider to the end that has more battle scars than a Vietnam vet. I take my car and my driving very seriously, which in layman's terms means I have an acute case of road rage. I know my car isn't the newest model on the road. I know my car doesn't have rims. I know my car doesn't have sub woofers and it barely has a functioning passenger side speaker due to me bumping Biggie's Notorious Thugs a little too loud one spring afternoon. And I know you have to use your entire body weight to lean on the door just to open it in order to get out. But my G-Whip the II has character, so I don't need y'all drug dealers or uppity negroes in a souped up Audi or big body Lex truck with spinning rims to pull up next to me at a light and look at my car like it ain't shit and make me question where I went wrong in my life. If no one told you before, that is rude as hell. And you most certainly don't have to speed off as soon as the light turns green and cut into my lane, as G-Whip the II uses all of its strength to try to accelerate. I hope your cars get recalled due to bad brakes and repossessed due to lack of payment. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE

This daily dose of hate has been brought to you by the number 3 and the letter C.