I get a laugh every time I read this.
1968 J code Cougar 302, 4V, Auto, PS, PDB
OK, let me start off by saying this Coug is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). This isn't your normal Chevy or Chrysler. This FOMOCO-MOFO is the kind of car God would drive if he wasn't busy doing God things like making hurricanes and crap. It's set up to go fast, and who doesn't like to go fast? Terrorists, that's who. Are you a terrorist? No? Then you need this car. You like going fast? Ever tried to outrun 24 police cars and 3 helicopters? You need this car. It will go so freaking fast that you may very well go back in time. It happened to me once. Just once, but it was rad. It's like someone took a rocket and opened its mouth and poured steroids down its throat and threatened to kill its family if it wasn't the fastest somebitch you've ever driven. My friend, if it was possible for a vehicle to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Cougar would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that manly.
It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Bed Bath and Beyond. No, that's what a Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. This car has been to hell and back, twice, and has the scars to prove it. So if you can't handle being seen behind the wheel of this biblical, fire breathing, dragon slaying, felon jailing, nazi killing hero, because it has a few purple hearts, move on.
This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja pirate super-warriors in the darkest alleys of Detroit to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what On Star is).
No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 302 .030> engine, OEM rods and flat top hypereutectic pistons, original carb, 4V Heads, manifold and dual exhaust, tuned by T.W.O. himself, to outrun the cops or to smoke those sally's driving their little rice burners with fart can exhaust. It's saved my bacon more than once. Stereos and AC are for hippies. Fortunately this car has neither, it does have the stock Ford AM radio. Oh look at me, I like listening to Simon and Garfunkel and thinking about puppies. Screw that. The only noises you'll be hearing is the ultra-manly engine noise coming from this 300 HP 10:1 compression V8. It's got new blood red upholstery, carpet, and headliner. In fact the back seat has never had an ass sitting in it. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself. So get some dark glasses and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in your sleeve.
I'm asking $11,500 for this bad boy but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $500 for it. That's liable to earn you a left hook ear punch with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Jonas Brothers concert anymore.
There's only 500 miles since restro on this 3.00 ratio open rear-wheel drive hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.
Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then reply to this ad. I might be out hang-gliding or base jumping or just chilling with my old lady, but leave a message and I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about the price over a cold bottle of Jagermeister while we listen to Johnny Cash.
Car is being sold as-is. I get it. You're busy, I'm busy, lets not waste time. If you're interested send me a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. You send me a message, I send you one right back. That's how this works.
1968 J code Cougar 302, 4V, Auto, PS, PDB
OK, let me start off by saying this Coug is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). This isn't your normal Chevy or Chrysler. This FOMOCO-MOFO is the kind of car God would drive if he wasn't busy doing God things like making hurricanes and crap. It's set up to go fast, and who doesn't like to go fast? Terrorists, that's who. Are you a terrorist? No? Then you need this car. You like going fast? Ever tried to outrun 24 police cars and 3 helicopters? You need this car. It will go so freaking fast that you may very well go back in time. It happened to me once. Just once, but it was rad. It's like someone took a rocket and opened its mouth and poured steroids down its throat and threatened to kill its family if it wasn't the fastest somebitch you've ever driven. My friend, if it was possible for a vehicle to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Cougar would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that manly.
It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Bed Bath and Beyond. No, that's what a Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. This car has been to hell and back, twice, and has the scars to prove it. So if you can't handle being seen behind the wheel of this biblical, fire breathing, dragon slaying, felon jailing, nazi killing hero, because it has a few purple hearts, move on.
This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja pirate super-warriors in the darkest alleys of Detroit to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what On Star is).
No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 302 .030> engine, OEM rods and flat top hypereutectic pistons, original carb, 4V Heads, manifold and dual exhaust, tuned by T.W.O. himself, to outrun the cops or to smoke those sally's driving their little rice burners with fart can exhaust. It's saved my bacon more than once. Stereos and AC are for hippies. Fortunately this car has neither, it does have the stock Ford AM radio. Oh look at me, I like listening to Simon and Garfunkel and thinking about puppies. Screw that. The only noises you'll be hearing is the ultra-manly engine noise coming from this 300 HP 10:1 compression V8. It's got new blood red upholstery, carpet, and headliner. In fact the back seat has never had an ass sitting in it. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself. So get some dark glasses and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in your sleeve.
I'm asking $11,500 for this bad boy but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $500 for it. That's liable to earn you a left hook ear punch with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Jonas Brothers concert anymore.
There's only 500 miles since restro on this 3.00 ratio open rear-wheel drive hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.
Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then reply to this ad. I might be out hang-gliding or base jumping or just chilling with my old lady, but leave a message and I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about the price over a cold bottle of Jagermeister while we listen to Johnny Cash.
Car is being sold as-is. I get it. You're busy, I'm busy, lets not waste time. If you're interested send me a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. You send me a message, I send you one right back. That's how this works.
