Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

I have always been fascinated with cars. Back when I was young, like really young, it was lowriders. I couldn’t get over the crazy paint, chromed out everything, and hydraulics. I swore when I got older I would build a slammer and cruise up and down the block in my ’64 (don’t mind the Ease-E reference). I used to build lowrider model cars to help pass the time and loved the customization and attention to detail that these old school sleds received.

Then, I got older, and quickly grew out of that stage. When I was just starting to drive I loved my car, but all my friends were rocking big Cadillacs, Lincolns, or pretty much anything you could throw 22’s on. I was all into that stage and tried selling my car to get an Inifiniti Q45, put it on some deuce deuces, and drive around swerving like an idiot. I never really got to that point, but man did I try.

Now I am back to my humble roots. Driving a slammed out, fully stripped and caged race car to work every day takes a certain amount of courage. Squeezing past the roll cage and jamming myself into my racing seat, all while wearing a neatly pressed dress shirt and tightly creased pants, is just part of my daily routine. Clients love it, hate it, or just look at me kind of strange. Its cool, Im used to it.

At some point I’m gonna get back to my grizzy and get this bad boy. An Infiniti QX56 on 32’s. I’ll probably have to remove my $300 sunglasses to see the looks on their faces (don’t mind the Lil Weezy reference).