A Pettifogger and me.

I am sitting at the local bar with my brother-in-law having a drink or three. In comes a loud mouth pettifogger. He sits there and talks about how wonderful his MB car is. He talks about how the MB is the finest car around and how fast it is. Finally, I said enough is enough. I say to him I would not have a cheap German piece of junk. Acting surprised, he asked me if I had a Toyota? “What?” I say. The others at the bar know what I drive and they are laughing. This does not make the pettifogger happy. He continues saying how the German MB is the finest piece of junk around. I, of course, tell him the true facts of life. The MB is nothing but an over price of crap which does not make him happy. Finally, he tells me he will race for pink slips. I say OK. Then I ask him where do you wish to race. He told me on the North bound Newport Freeway between Irvine Blvd. and Chapman. I say, “Great.”

Then he asks what I had. Then I told him I had a Maranello. He did not know what that was. Someone at the bar told him it was a V-12 Ferrari. He then became very quite and did not wish to race.

I do not like pettifoggers.

Never drive less than 12 cylinders.