Sometimes Tim Blair, through every fault of his own, reminds me why I have to hate him sometimes:
I have a Honda S2000 test car that I’ll drive to Canberra and back this afternoon, with the roof down, Warren Zevon loaded into the CD stacker, and a cool redhead in the passenger seat.
Adding insult to injury (or rubbing salt on the margarita glass, as I like to say), word is that Blair’s liver can take more abuse than even mine.
Lucky bastard!
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