I think they're fine.

My brother Wil, who I love, and I, have a lifelong history of getting even. We're not fighting, but we make sure to settle our scores. There are no winners, just one-upmanships. As an example, he once, after we had finished playing racquetball and were driving towards his house, wiped his hand all over my face with a body odor which is best not described. I settled the score by making his arm limp for a week. This has been going on for years.

Yesterday was no different.

So my brother, Wil, had gotten involved in the world's saddest accident a couple of weeks ago. He is now looking for another car because his old car is considered totaled.

Fixing this love tap cost more than what the car was worth.

So yesterday, I get a phone call from him asking if I want to go with him to look at cars he found on craigslist. I say yes, because I'm a good brother who is single and doesn't have much of a life. So he, his wife Jessica, their baby and I hop into their rented Kia and go to an address that's off the I-17 and south of Buckeye.

The 'hood.

We're going to look at a 2003 Camry. We find this thing, and red flags start going off everywhere. This car literally just got out of the repair shop (it was in their parking lot). And nothing says sketchy like a ghetto repair shop. We were going to drive away except the 'owner' caught us. We decided that we should at least drive the car to be nice. The owner even let us drive the car without him!

Wil and I left Jessica and the baby to watch the Kia. Again, we're at sketchy repair shop in south Phoenix.

So we take off without putting on our seat belts. During the courtesy test drive, my brother, who is driving, tells me, "Hey, the brakes feel a little low." To prove his point, he steps on the brakes, hard, and without warning. We were only going about 25mph so I only had the small discomfort of being flung forward.

I thought to myself, "Alright... so that's how it is."

He then offers the wheel to me. Telling me, "Here, you check it out. What do you think?"

So, still feeling the slight twinge in my neck from the mild whiplash, I take the wheel. He doesn't put on his seat belt. I then proceed to do two things.

One: I floor the gas pedal and very quickly reach 40mph.

Yes, this is faster than what old people let on.

Two: I stomp on the brakes.

Imagine this, the tires have locked up, they're screaming, and they're smoking. I stopped that car in about 20 feet.

The only thing I see out of the corner of my eye is my brother doubling over and trying his hardest to do a full face plant on the windshield.

He did a pretty good job, though.

Personally, I think those brakes were pretty good.