You brought a brand-new Lamborghini Aventador to an airstrip race. You have every right to be cocky…the new Lambo might still have the lingering aura of gold-chained around it, but with a minimum of 690 horsepower on tap straight from the factory, it isn’t anything to play with, either. Low, long, wide and shaped like an F-22’s personalized chase car, you think you’re the baddest son of a bitch on the strip. When you stage, you look over and see a beaten up old Volvo next to you. Surely, this has to be a joke. This isn’t a “knife at a gun fight”, this is whipping out a rubber chicken while Dirty Harry has his .44 Magnum pointed directly at your head. What the hell was this guy thinking? The light goes green and you launch and start paddling your way through the gears. Then you see it…the Swedish Shoebox dragging your ass like you tossed out the anchor. Tell me, Lambo-dork: How bad does your day suck right now?
The car is a pretty solid, if predictable, build: take one GM 6.0L LS, slap an eBay-sourced turbocharger on, throw a transmission behind it that will hold up (in this case, a TH400 that is probably built up nicely) and go screw with some heads. And what do you call the car? We can’t say outright, but have you ever seen the movie “Horrible Bosses”?
Language Warning…there. You have been warned about the F-bombs. The car’s name alone warrants it.
It looks like Lambo-dork lost his small sack @ Colorado Springs International Airport.