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Oh, and the Mk1? Tiny, scrappy—kinda like Otilia in the flick, fightin’ through chaos. Underdog energy, I dig that. Sarcasm time: “Yeah, Escort’s trash,” said no rally fan ever! Humor me—bet it’d outrun half these modern wannabes, ha! Chatty me, I’d tell it, “You’re fabulous, dahling!”—cos it is. No capes, just pure, unfiltered Escort love!

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After that, I’m back on my raft, trying to dry off. I’m paddling down the river, and I see this family having a picnic on the shore. They’ve got all this food laid out, and I’m like, “Man, I could go for a hot dog right now.” But I keep paddling. No time for food when you’re a raftsman, right?

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