Contrary to popular belief, Damn Arbor does not put me in fast cars, imported jeans and the finest sandwich shops this side of the Mississippi. I do it for the love of the game, and that game is being on Ben and Ed's good sides.
But sometimes doing things for fun leads to bigger opportunities with more powerful men who wear those aforementioned jeans, drive those cars and eat subs so hard motherhumpers want to fine them. That's what happened with me and the fine, intelligent, brave people at Road & Track.
They keep tabs on Damn Arbor (because who doesn't) and saw my name in lights and treated me to lunch at Macaroni Grill (told you these guys weren't playing around) and before you knew it I was churning out pages for them and adding to the amount of tax I'll have to pay at the end of the year as a freelancer.
Ben has been kind enough to let me shill my latest and favoritest article here on lover, huckster, genius and University of Michigan graduate John DeLorean. He was a 6'4" automotive playboy who wore his dyed-black hair shaggy, kept his sideburns long to piss off the brass at GM, dated showgirls, married supermodels and was embroiled in a cocaine trafficking conspiracy with the FBI, who videotaped him in a Los Angeles airport motel with a briefcase stuffed with 50 pounds of pure. Oh, and the only reason he was able to pay his lawyers and afford to eat was because his car was used in a little movie about time travel.
Read the full article here.
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