This is Why V6 Mustang Drivers Are Asshats

About seven years ago when I was much more reckless and not very bright I lived in Portland OR. My fiance (at the time) and I moved up there after my Dad passed away because my cousin offered me a job doing NDT (Non Destructive Testing. AKA-magna fluxing and gamma radiography on ship hulls, pipe lines and the like) work. It was fine at first but I din't have a whole lot of friends other than a few co-workers. My fiance would go back down to Brookings about once a month to visit her parents for about week at a time leaving me all alone. I don't deal with just hanging out by myself very well, so I started going to this pool hall about a block away from my house. This is the story about the last time I ever went there.

I used to get real lonely when she'd take off. A lot of the times there I tried making some friends. You know, maybe a bar or pool hall buddy or two. Well, on this particular occasion I finally met a seemingly decent group of people. They liked the same kinda stuff I was interested in and seemed to generally like me. Nice! Up until this point, I hadn't made any friends that I hung out with outside of work, so things were looking up... until the bar closed.

So, the night still being young (2:30 in the a.m.) I decided to have an after party at my house. It was only about a block away and it wouldn't be that hard to drive there. As a matter of fact, you could exit the parking lot by making a right hand turn, then another and BANG! You're right in the parking lot to my appartment! How hard could this get?

Well, the Albertsons that's right friggin' there in the same parking lot as the bar stopped selling beer at 2:30. "Great. Well, I guess it's been a fun night..."

"Hold it right there, dude. We could run down the street to Seven Eleven. It's no problem at all."

"Are you sure? I don't want to, well... you know."

"No man. I'm good."

I should have taken my first hint as to what was gonna happen next by the choice of his car. 2001 Mustang. V6. I asked why the v6 as we were pulling to the light, getting ready to take a left towards Seven Eleven instead of taking a right to my place when he says, "This things got plenty of punch! Watch this!"

To my dismay, the light turned green and he started spinning the wheels, which would have been kinda cool, but it was wet out from a recent rain. As we were slowly pulling away, he started making the turn with the tires still spinning. All of a sudden, the rear end just let go completely and spun us 180*. I at the time was starting to get a little agitated. Not only was I stupid enough to get into a v6 Mustang with a drunk, he turned out to be a little bit on the weird side.

He tried to save it, but it swung out in the opposite direction spinning another 180, but this time it had a curb in the way. With all the momentum pent up inside this little pony of his, hitting the curb with his rimz, it jettisoned us into an imprompt barrel roll over the curb, through a chain link fence, and shiny side down in the shallows of a pond on a golf course.

The first thing he said to me was, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think so... WTF, man? What the hell were you thinking?"

The next thing he said to me was, "Run."

"What?"

"Run, GODAMMIT!"

Okay... I got my self un-buckled and started out through the windshield after him. I started to catch up. He started to call someone on his phone as I approached. The next sentence out of his mouth I will never forget, "It happened again..."

He was on the phone with his attorney. For real. The guy ended up meeting us in the parking lot of the golf course. He told me that I had never seen him or his client. If I agreed with that, he'd drop me off at my house. I said, "What ever. Just take me home. It's been a long night..."

I got to my appartment and instictively started getting undressed to go to bed, but I started to get the beer munchies. I decided to walk down to the grocery store and get myself something to eat. Before I walked out the front door, I noticed that my back pocket didn't feel right... "No. No way. Couldn't be", were the thoughts that went through my head. But alas, I had indeed left my wallet at the scene of an accident.

I walked right down there into the lights and sirens, past the police and sheriff deputies and started to go through the car. A young officer came up to me and asked me what I was doing. "Looking for my wallet," I replied.

To his amazement he asked, "you were in this car?!"

"Uh, yeah..."

"Is this your's?!" he shouted.

"Ha! Hell no. Like I'd own a v6 Mustang..."

I explained that the reason that I had indeed ran was, "because this idiot drove us onto a golf course, and just being in one of the most frightening accidents I've ever been in, I was a little scared. I didn't know what the hell he would have done if I didn't. Oh yeah, he called his attorney saying something about, 'it happened again'..."

The officer thought that a story that crazy had to be true and ended up giving me a ride home. The next day I was really hung over. As I was digging around the clothes that I had tossed about in my drunken stupor, I lifted my hat and found... yeah, my wallet.

Fortunately, there is a moral to this story that I can take with me and teach to my kids and anyone else I happen to share my story with: Never, EVER get into a car with some one that's been drinking. Or a pre 2011 v6 Mustang.