My apartment is a sauna, I will be brief.
Good night.
For the record, I, too, will be brief. Not for the temperature, but for the fact that I have so much work to do in and out of the office that the mere frivolity of writing this post has been registered as yet another obligation that must sit at the bottom of the heap to mollify my increasingly demanding family.
The car in question is a 2001 Audi A4 Quattro with the sport package and two-point-eight liter thirty-valve six-cylinder engine. Returning to more palatable language it’s a black Audi sedan with all-wheel drive and a large engine. It’s fully equipped, and the air conditioning system has been repaired since the reports that gave birth to this comic. The passenger rear wheel bearing needs replacement, a fact that it shrieks out to me whenever I tap it’s flanks past forty kilometers per hour, but my schedule is such that it is unlikely to get fixed until after the wheel itself has bounded down the highway into oncoming traffic once or twice.
The car has this neat trick where it behaves like a perfectly docile beast of burden until about three thousand revolutions per minute, and then undergoes an instantaneous transition into a snorting, impatient charger. The ratios in the transmission are such that in top gear, that engine speed corresponds to just under a hundred and ten kilometers per hour. The overall effect is that once you casually get up to speed on a four-hundred series highway you have to pay keen attention to your throttle position lest you accidentally start breaking the speed limit by a margin long enough to punch a few points into your license. All while that whiny wheel bearing eggs you on like some injured frat boy at a kegger.
I love this car.
Ja.