Even my dad would, if I showed him the car, admit that this car fucking kicks ass. Like, aoskldfjasldkfjsadlkfjsal;dkfjlas;dkfjsdkl;afjl;sdajf. I WANT IT. I mean, let's get a few points across:
1. I can't drive.
2. When I drove my dad's Mustang Cobra, I was scared shitless.
3. I probably will never drive stick.
But other than those obvious hinderances, I want this car. Fuck yeah. I mean, come on, Nick Jonas. First the dog, now the car. STOP TEASING ME. I'm gonna have to become a buglar. Son of a bitch. This is ridiculuous. It's a Cobra. Mustang. Ah. I bet if I send this photo to my dad, he'll tell me like, everything about it. I love it.
I do remember when I was in my dad's 2001 Red Mustang Cobra, I saw another car come near me, so naturally, I had to rev the engine to scare them off. I actually wasn't even allowed to use the gas pedal. I'm pretty happy in the passenger seat. I wanna be where Big Rob is.
As much as I can't drive, I still want it. It's so pretty. At least I have car appreciation. Sigh. Like, I really cannot get over how much I love this car. Fucking no fair Jonas. I need to stop looking at Nick and his absolutely amazing things. Fucking Jonas.
I really can't stop staring at it. This is a problem. Official.
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