I had been a regular at my local bar for about a year before one of the waitresses asked me if the vintage Mustang was mine.

I’d always thought she was kind of bitchy, despite being really hot, but if she recognized a decent ride, how bad could she be?

“Yeah,” I said.

“How fast does it go?” she asked.

“Pretty fast,” I said, sizing her up. “Think you can drive it?”

“I can drive anything,” she said.

I didn’t know if she was being a wise-ass or if she really could drive. Only one way to find out. “When do you get off work?” I asked.

“I’ll be done in 20 minutes,” she said. Then she headed back to one of the tables and picked up her tip before disappearing through the... Read More