Stop, Speed Racer, Stop

Story Sent in by Joann:

Raul told me that he was in training to become a NASCAR driver. Given the amount of NASCAR fans in my neighborhood alone, I wasn't altogether surprised. Most of the time such people bore me, but Raul seemed to have just enough of a personality to eke his way into a first date.

We met in the parking lot of a restaurant. He was already there and one of the very first things he said to me was, "You wanna race before or after dinner?"

"Race?" I asked.

He said, "I wanna show you what I can do in this baby," and pointed at a tricked-out yellow Mustang.

I said, "I'm no racer, but you can show me whatever you want after dinner."

He seemed satisfied with that, and we went into the diner. During dinner, he explained his theory about how the best racers had the hottest wives. So very thoughtful. What was especially weird was that he really rushed us through the meal, like he couldn't wait to be out of there.

After dinner he led me back to the lot and asked, "You ready to see something incredible?"


He walked toward the yellow Mustang then banked away in the other direction and jogged toward a silver Camry with a racing stripe. He unlocked the Camry and jumped in.

"Are you serious?" I asked, "The Mustang isn't even your car?"

He called out his window, "Just watch this."

I asked, "Did you just pick out the most tricked-out car in the parking lot and pretend it was yours?"

He didn't answer, but turned on his Camry and blasted away. After waiting for a minute, I left.


  1. AAAAAhahahahaha! Camry with a racing stripe?! Please tell me it was a DIY stripe. No, wait, I think I found it. Is this the car?


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.