Story by Tom Heath
Great cars come in many different shapes and sizes, but they’re all at their best with engines wailing at wide-open throttle and tires begging for mercy. After all, watching a Lancer Evo being subjected to a life of grocery-fetching is nearly as bad as seeing a world-beating supercar imprisoned in a climate-controlled garage. Steve Beddor agrees. …
I forget whose fault it is, but all I can think of now when I hear about those cars is The Bloodhound Gang.
The Ruf, The Ruf, The Ruf is on fire.
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