There comes a time in every man's life when he's faced with a choice. "Stick with the Grand Marquis, Mr. Harvey, or..." - with a sweeping hand movement reminiscent of Vanna White at the letterboard - the clerk at Thrifty Rental Car presented me with a second, far sexier possibility. A shining, candy-apple red Ford Mustang. The two-ton piece of hot American metal that appeals to the most primal of male urges.
That guy knew I was going to sign before I even opened my mouth. He'd probably already gotten the paperwork ready. And the reality is, he was right: I wanted that Mustang the second my Grand Marquis showed up looking like a hearse.
So Buzz and I are cruising around for the week in a money-sucking American hot rod. And just to show it off, I went over to meet my friend Charlotte at the Blue Note for 10 minutes while Buzz packed his bag for the road and got her in the front seat.
America rules.
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