Be Grant:
Talk shit for half a decade perpetually working on project car. Throw a shit-fit that someone "won't race you" during the off season. Personally attack them, follow them in person, on the internet and bother them on their phone. Be confused why they don't rub your belly over your car being done.
Sorry to make you wait to sell your car if this is what you "need" for a clean break. Let's be honest: My suspenseful 60 months > your couple. booohooo. Sell your car or run backwards through a field of dicks.nobody.cares.whatyado. This is all in your head, your mentally stuck on this. I'm not 18 and IDGAF. If I did lose to you, what would happen? Lose my job? Become handicapped? My car blows up? See a blip of laughs on CR that your misery mobile bested me on its nankang midwest seasons? Nah, the worst thing is being in proximity of you, Clarence.
Grow up, smarten up, you noodle-necked jagaloon. As long as we have a third party to coordinate our location/time and we meet on the road rolling, I'll give you your limp wrist roll race. I don't want to text you, speak on the phone or see your poo flavored Clarence self. I'd rather stick my junk in bindnis weeds. Fackin gross.