Less than three weeks remain before the start of the big race. And if Team Black Metal V8olvo happens to crash during the Altamont leg of the traveling 24 Hours of LeMons circus, at least we won't burn. Plus, since our donor car is at least 79.2% Volvo (what, you missed the Fiero wing?) you know we're totally safe. My Grandma always told me that when a cat poops on your car it's good luck. I'm sure after 700 years of near constant pogroms, a little kitty turd was a pleasant turn of events. I mention this because while I was doing my best Tommie Smith/John Carlos impersonation in the above pic, I stepped in dog shit. Yup, brand new flame-retardant shoes on my feet for less than five-minutes and they're already covered in crap. That's too much Passover wine for you. Still, I'm thinking about not washing the Pyrotech sneaker and changing my racing name from "Necrobutcher" to "Count Stinkfoot." Oh, and for the four of you paying attention, we finally got our team motto figured, "Most Grim and Frostbitten Necrowrenches Bloodlustfully Blaspheming the Forbidden Forsaken Fjord Sacrilegiously Perched Atop the Unholy and Inverted Mountain of Altamont." Mehta, Solowiow, consider your gooses pre-cooked.
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