Hot-Rod Muscle Never Dies!!

I've been accused of being an overly cynical man; someone supercilious and detached, a quality that has sometime been a detriment to me in my personal life. Yet today I witnessed something that warmed my heart like passionate sermon from a old-timey fire-and-brimstone preacher. Just as I approached an intersection near a highway in Salt Lake City, a red Mustang came towards me on a sliproad that fed onto the main street I was on. Rather than stop at the red light and wait to turn right, he put the hammer down, and those ponies surged as he fishtailed, leaving only a slight wisp of smoke as he cut me off.

What made this so utterly life-affirming was the fact that this Mustang had an emergency donut for a rear, driver-side tire. Now I know the warning label on these generally advise one to travel something like fifty miles per hour, with only a fifty mile range, but what is conspicuously absent from that caution? As near as I can tell, it says nothing about avoiding some bad-ass, muthafuckin' fishtailing as you cut-off some pansy in his Toyota. At no point did the driver (who was wearing a full-bandanna over his head) ever contemplate not rocking out and laying down some skidmarks, spare tire be damned. To paraphrase Kent Brockman, that is the kind of "never give up, never think things through" spirit that makes this country great.