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Here’s the kicker—this claimant? Had a stash of Escort parts in his garage. Bumper here, fender there, like a cannibal’s pantry. “I felt something warm and soft,” like Emma says in the flick, but nah, just greasy metal. Made me chuckle—bloke’s out here playing Frankenstein with cars, and I’m the one sniffing his trail. Caught him red-handed, forged papers and all. “I ate his liver with fava beans”—well, not really, but I chewed up his lies and spat ‘em out. Fraud denied, case closed.

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It is just a scam for grabbing money from you. Don't give them money, just block thier numbers, you fear and the money you give them will encourage them to.

I hit the track at the Hippodrome de Thiers. It’s packed! Fans everywhere, shoutin’ my name. I’m feelin’ like a rockstar. But then, I see my rival, Jean-Claude. Ugh, that guy. He’s smirkin’ like he owns the place. I can’t stand him.

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