The Texas Blonde Would Rather ...
The Texas Blonde Would Rather…
By Bill Drissel
A loud Texas blonde worked in a building adjacent to ours. We all shared a common parking lot. The blonde owned at huge truck, a Ford crew cab 4x4 with extra road clearance. A decal in the back window proclaimed, “Badass girls have badass toys.”
We were coming back from lunch when the blonde drove up in an absolutely cherry ’98 Mustang GT convertible. Fire engine red … polished to a high gloss … not a fingerprint on it … showroom clean even the tires. She dismounted to face four car guys.
“You get rid of your truck?”, one asked.
“Naw, never. This is my husband’s toy. I drove it into town today. They’re gonna put a roll cage in it. He wants to drive it at Denton speedway.”
“Is he gonna compete?”
“No, he’s got a supercharger in the garage. He wants to bolt it up and see what the car will do. They won’t let you run at Denton without a roll cage.”
“Is this his daily driver?”
“No, it’s his parade car. It’s his baby. He doesn’t drive it a thousand miles a year.”
“Isn’t insurance a killer?”
“It’s high but I’d rather have him piss his money away on cars than on girlfriends.”
By Bill Drissel
A loud Texas blonde worked in a building adjacent to ours. We all shared a common parking lot. The blonde owned at huge truck, a Ford crew cab 4x4 with extra road clearance. A decal in the back window proclaimed, “Badass girls have badass toys.”
We were coming back from lunch when the blonde drove up in an absolutely cherry ’98 Mustang GT convertible. Fire engine red … polished to a high gloss … not a fingerprint on it … showroom clean even the tires. She dismounted to face four car guys.
“You get rid of your truck?”, one asked.
“Naw, never. This is my husband’s toy. I drove it into town today. They’re gonna put a roll cage in it. He wants to drive it at Denton speedway.”
“Is he gonna compete?”
“No, he’s got a supercharger in the garage. He wants to bolt it up and see what the car will do. They won’t let you run at Denton without a roll cage.”
“Is this his daily driver?”
“No, it’s his parade car. It’s his baby. He doesn’t drive it a thousand miles a year.”
“Isn’t insurance a killer?”
“It’s high but I’d rather have him piss his money away on cars than on girlfriends.”
posted by Bill Drissel at 2:32 PM
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