Picture this typical bad day at work: your boss just gave you an earful for not catching a typo in his email. Your office crush mistook your helpfulness for perviness. Your laptop crashed on you before you save your 5-page business proposal. Your favourite chicken rice wasn’t available because the hawker centre decided to do area cleaning.
Sounds terrible, right?
So you got into your car — a decently performing one, because you’ve put in some real dollars into making it quick. An open pod, a performance exhaust system with de-cat goodness, an aftermarket ECU touched by a specialist tuner, and finally, your ride is bestowed a stage 2 tune, pushing it to above 300hp, simplistically speaking.
You go for that spirited drive, away from that cursed workplace that gave you much grief. In between your occasional heavy footed, vomit-inducing surges, you chanced upon a couple of stanced bimmers rolling in front, full of aggressive styling. They’re just minding their own business (which is, looking good), and you inched forward. “420 and 320”, you said to yourself, after catching a glimpse of their respective rears, and a mischievous sensation creeped into your mind. You felt this compelling need to push them off your front, because they’re just too fierce-looking for a couple of entry level bimmers.
You moved in. Closer and closer, so close until your face can be seen in their rear view mirrors, with that unmistakable smirk across your face. This unbearable aggression, uncalled for, manifested into an open call for a challenge. You hear the bimmers downshift and you thought “it’s time”.
The next thing you know, these 2 machines pulled away from you easily, leaving you gobsmacked.
“What just happened? I felt like I was stationary!”
And your bad day just got compounded into an even worse one, for you’ve been fooled by the humblebadging couple of M.