There's a ring of hell under construction for Bondo misusers, where the doomed will cruise an infernal mall parking lot in perpetuity, awkwardly chatting up damned chicks and scoping out spots among the brimstones on which to do donuts. They'll serve their sentence in cars like this, with no sense of proportion, design or economy of form. Remember kids, there's no such thing as "Camaro Summer."
Incriminating link:
Mostly Muscle Cars
Related:
Camaro Moment of Zen [internal]