Last night ol Pa and me decided to take the pick up truck into town and get ourselves a bite of supper at that Chinese smorgy.
On the way we saw a bunch of folks gaggled around some shiney old cars with a few classic ponies noses poking out. I hollered at Pa "Pull in Pa! They got some Mustangs corralled in there!"
Well, turns out that the odd old timer with his shorts pulled wayyy up over the Mach 1 T-shirt that covered his basketball shaped tummy, knee high dress socks in sandals and a Kiwanis belt buckle the size of a hubcap was the guy running the thing.
I thought to myself, "Ok ok... Mustang shirt... this is Tennessee... ask... cmon, just ask."
"Um, sir? Sir....??? Excuse me.... sir??? Pardon me, sir..?? HEY MISTER! I'm talking here pay attention!!!"
Well, that's what it felt like anyway, though perhaps a teensy bit exaggerated.
I ask him if there were any Mustang Clubs locally and he told me that there is one ant that they are having a "Drive In" next Thursday night at the Dairy Queen. I told him I have a Mustang and he ask what kind. I gave him a brief description and he kind of stuck his bushy nose hairs in the air and said "well we let any Mustang come to this one. I raised my eyebrows, stood up tall and said "Hey now.. lookie here! This isn't ANY ol Mustang. She's sleek, white and beautiful, and she's MINE! That makes her special! Got it??!!"
Ok, this is the first time I have suffered culture shock since I have been here. Now curiosity demands that I primp Shug up and take her to the Dairy Queen next Thursday.
After all, word has it that if you show up with a Mustang, you get a free ice cream.
Kate