This is Bob, and he’s quite nice.
He also has earned the nickname, “Toughest Guy in NASCAR”.
We are complete opposites – him a foot and a half taller, and 2.5 times heavier.
So if Bob and I were to fight,
it wouldn’t really be one.
His fist is the size of my head.
Only defence I have after it hits me, is to spit my teeth at him before running away.
(technically my brain and words could be a defence, or my ‘run up the chest knee to the jaw’ move, but for the most part, the title is accurate.)
