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So I'm at the gas pump and a Grand Prix pulls up and...
conversation as follows
Him: Yo, you race that thing?
Me: No.
Him: Why not?
Me: I dunno.
Him: What you got done to it?(My civic)
Me: Nothing really.
Him: I'll race you for pinks.
Me: Nah, that's alright.
Him: You sure?
Me: Positive.
Then I start pumping my gas and he blasts DMX. I ignore him and then he starts reving his engine. I get in my car and leave.
I just don't get it. If he's serious, he's a dumbass. If he was fucking with me, he drives a damn stock Grand Prix. Heh, teenagers.
I'm not even up to par on what a pink is. It's the title for the car right? I keep my title in my mom's safe along with the deed to our property, cars, and home.