COTD: If Its Got A Motor I'll Race It edition

When Travis Pastrana takes to the Nascar Nationwide series next week, he'll do so with this decal, a small bit of tribute to pal and soon competitor Jimmie Johnson. Meanwhile, the monster truck of recent top comments, one Desu-San-Desu, rolled again today on the story of a Porsche 911 topping 199 mph:

So Fonzie and an e-zine writer are riding in a Porsche 911 on the Autobahn. They're cruising along, somewhere in the lower triple digits, when they notice a car in the right lane with a bunch of cameras stuck to it and a clear left lane as far as the eye can see. The writer swallows nervously and looks over to Fonzie just as Fonzie punches it and adjusts his sunglasses. The e-zine writer hangs on for dear life and mumbles incoherently into his iProduct. The words "Please mommy" can just barely be heard over the screaming engine as it revs towards redline.

They zoom past the camera car and just keep going, the writer sweating and spurting out gibberish like "Unsafe" and "Too fast" while Fonzie just gives him a thumbs up and says "Heeeeey!" The speedometer climbs ever clockwise as Fonzie rows through the gears like records in a jukebox. He hits sixth gear and plants his foot to the floor, letting the engine roar and drown out the whimpering of the scab in the seat beside him.

Suddenly there's a huge jarring thud and a wooshing sound just as the Porsche hits 199mph. The writer cries out and clutches onto Fonzie's jacket, screaming at the top of his voice.

"Oh my God! I think we just hit something!"

"Yeah," replies Fonzie, not a drop of sweat on him as his right foot massages the accelerator like a floozy broad with a push-up bra. The writer turns around in his seat to look behind them but doesn't see anything.

He looks back to Fonzie and asks, "Was it a cat? Did we hit a cat? Oh my God, we did, didn't we? Oh the poor kitty!"

Fonzie just smiles and chuckles to himself. "Nah, daddy-o. No dice. No cat."

"Oh...well, what was it?" asks the writer, slowly gathering his wits about him once more, cradling his iProduct to his bosom as thought it were the flattened kitten in need of nursing.

"That was just us passing over into 'Cool' territory."

For a good 10 seconds there's silence, both of them staring dead ahead as the cars in the right lane become an indistinguishable blur. Finally, the writer speaks up, quietly, as his shifts in his seat.

"Wow...being cool...kinda hurts," he says.

Fonzie takes off his sunglasses and looks the writer straight in the eyes, completely confident and oblivious to the road ahead of him. He leans over so the writer can hear him better and says to him,

"Man, I've been sayin' that for years."

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