@b2plane I'm 44. I was like you before. I had an Audi A6 that I tuned and tweaked myself, had a lot of chicks, ended up marrying a non-whore, and had 3 beautiful children and a house in the suburb. But my car is where I felt the safest. I spent a lot of
time in it, just cruising around or repairing it.

But then about 7 months ago, I came home and the postman was there. A cyclist. I immediately dislike him, saying the story of how he would climb mountains I was easily going through in my car everyday. But she liked him. A lot.

She started going back to the gym and losing weight. Worst, she bought a bike. A vicious cycle started. The more she exercised, the thiner she became (I always was sortof a fatty).The hotter she got, and the longer she would spend outside, "cycling".

Then the bomb dropped. She was leaving me and the kid for the postman. She said I was ugly and smelled of dirty oil all the time. That sitting in my car for too long had made me soft and that my pelvic floor was as weak as a kitten, and
that I could only do her for a few seconds whereas her cyclist could break nuts with his tights and please her all night.

I'm about to finish it all. I piped the exhaust to the inside, opened a last beer and put the autoradio one last time. My only wish is that all the car fanatics out there hear my plea and don't get too close to their cars, they'll regret it. Goodbye.