That's a Miata, for You

Story Sent in by Tiffany:

Wayne was a blind date who would not shut up about his car, all through dinner. It was some sort of tricked-out Miata, but all the other nitro-dual-propulsion-V10 engine babble he spewed went in one of my ears and out the other. Clearly, one of his former flames must've been really into cars, but I certainly wasn't.

After talking about it enough for him to sound more like a car salesman than a date, he asked me, "So, you wanna see it?"

Did I have a choice? Well, I did, but I wanted to keep the peace, and I didn't think that just looking at a car would lead to anything tragic.

Tragedy struck after dinner, however, when he dragged me outside to see his car. It was parked at the far end of the lot, covered in a tarp. He pulled the tarp off like he was a master magician, then beamed up at me. It was silver and looked... like a car. I'm sorry, I just wasn't too impressed.

He jumped in and turned it on. He revved the engine, then turned to me and said, "I'd take you for a ride, but I just cleaned the inside. Sorry."

I wasn't sure whether or not that should've insulted me, but I just smiled and nodded. He slipped it into drive and said, "Watch this!"

He jetted out of the parking lot and crashed, head-on into a telephone pole, right across the street.

I bolted over to him and asked him if he was okay. He screamed and screamed about his car, his car, his car, his car. Shaking, I pulled out my phone to call 911, but he backed it away, nearly hitting me, and managed to drive off, somehow. I didn't end up calling anyone.

I was never more grateful to make it home, and to never hear from him again.


  1. I think he went home and wankeled.

  2. The car crash was a sign from above that his car wasn't as important or wonderful as he thought it was. Miata's don't even have any leg room anyway and are WAY too small. Bullet dodged on part of the OP.


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