For a long time, I was an only child. No hand-me-down Izod shirts with the alligator missing. Best of all, I got all the toys to myself. It wasn’t until many years later that I finally got a younger brother, and even when that happened, I was already 11 years old. That’s a huge gap, in case you hadn’t noticed. We couldn’t really relate to each other—I mean, two years into our relationship, and I was already trying to hook up with girls in the eighth grade, while he was trying to down a bottle of Gerber’s split pea without yacking it all up. Today, he’s 13 years old himself and 2 inches taller than I am, and he requires more deodorant than I do. I can’t even pick on him because, quite frankly, he might be able to hurt me. It’s weird—we can actually wear each other’s clothes, but we won’t. Cursed is our little common bond.
This information probably has no direct relation to the Randle brothers whatsoever. And who cares, really? I know you don’t. By the looks of it, Lee and Johnny couldn’t possibly be more than a couple of years apart. It’s safe to say they probably don’t share the same clothes (although it looks as if they do), but they do have an ultra-spiffy bond: their cars. Lee owns this funky red DC2 Integra, and Johnny’s pride and joy is that minty-flavored EK Civic. Both share a common theme—JDMitus, a disease that’s easy to catch but hard to get rid of.
Its stench has reached the farthest corners of the globe, etched its name into glass like an inner-city tagger, and placed its hand up the shirt of every man, woman, and child who has ever taken interest in the import scene. And even though this Civic and Integra share the same Japanese Domestic Market style, more than just a fancy steering wheel and an engine transplant separate the two.