I grew up poor and in the Caribbean. Every Saturday morning some junker would get pushed into this covered porch (just a roof, no walls) and the neighborhood gear heads would decend opon it like a swarm of Stargate SG-1 replicators. By Sunday afternoon that thing was either purring like a kitten or roaring like a lion depending on what the goal was.
I grew up poor and in the Caribbean. Every Saturday morning some junker would get pushed into this covered porch (just a roof, no walls) and the neighborhood gear heads would decend opon it like a swarm of Stargate SG-1 replicators. By Sunday afternoon that thing was either purring like a kitten or roaring like a lion depending on what the goal was.
Sometime the dead…they don’t come back the same.
And now you are known Lemmy over as “That Buc-ees pfp” :D
Small beginnings
I’ll just leave this here.
Literally made me laugh, that hilarious.