This is not a racecar. It is a very clean old Porsche 911 i spotted at a grocery story today.

I live in a fairly quiet neighborhood in a small midwestern town. If I’m honest, the most entertaining thing to happen in my neighborhood in the past 10 years was when a house burned down. Today, however, was a bit more exciting.

One of my neighbors came home today with a modified stock car on his trailer, and boy was his wife pissed.

She began yelling almost immediately and while I was trying to catch the story, I also was trying not to be too obvious. As such, I do not have any photographs of the car, or the angry wife, or the husband who was enduring human equivalent of a dog getting its snout shoved into a pile of its own waste.

He remained positive for the first few minutes, trying to win her over. “Maybe she’ll warm to the idea” he probably thought.

This is, however, the man who tried to surprise his wife by bringing a racecar home.

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Needless to say, she did not warm to the idea and his calm demeanor and trying to reason with her changed to pleading, and eventually escalated into a shouting match in their front yard.

Here’s an abbreviated version of the argument:

Husband: I really like it.

Wife: But it’s stupid!

Husband: But I really like it!

Wife: But it’s really stupid!

Wife: *Pointing at how stupid it is*

Wife: Look at how stupid it is!

After a while, the discussion became more heated and more personal. I stopped listening at this point because I tune out any conversation that doesn’t have to do with automobiles or vintage guitars.

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I figured that this argument had two possible outcomes:

  1. She begrudgingly lets him keep the car and it sits unused in front of their house between the immobile pontoon boat and school bus they never use.
  2. She eventually convinces him to return the racecar and from that point on she has immeasurable amounts of ammunition in future arguments

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What actually happened was neither of these things because after a few minutes of not paying attention to the yelling, I heard the unmistakable sound of a large V8 burbling to life.

He started the racecar, backed it off the trailer, and drove away.

It’s worth mentioning that not only did he drive away, he was gone for a while. This is a man with some serious stones.

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I was no longer home by the time he returned but both the trailer and the racecar are nowhere to be seen, and it’s fairly safe to say he won’t hear the end of that one for a while.

I honestly cannot tell if I feel bad for the guy. I was proud of him for buying something that he wanted, but the way he went about presenting it to his significant other was nothing short of disastrous.

If I think about it I’ll have to go out later tonight and take a picture of him sleeping between the immobile pontoon beat and the unused school bus where his racecar should be.