Part 1: Sometimes, it really just doesn't pay to be nice...

You wouldn't believe the weirdness I had to encounter just because I chose to be "Mr. Nice Guy". It all started during a telephone conversation I was having with some friends late one night - they were in the process of inviting me to a party... something told me I should have just gone; HOWEVER, as luck would have it, another friend of mine sent me a number of text messages on my cell - they started with a "You gotta meet this friend of mine - haven't seen her in 12 years" and rambled on till they crash-landed with "her husband just left her and she's drunk... can you help me get her home?"

So, naturally, fulfilling my role as the unfortunate "Mr Nice Guy", I obliged.

I guess I should have known at this point that my hopeful plans of enjoying the company of some lovely ladies and having a nice little drink or two, making some fair attempts at making the ladies swoon to my the tunes I would play on my fine guitar were going to go astray - very far astray. I suppose when I arrived at the bar to help pick this girl up off the bar and drive her car home for her that I should have noticed that, well, there are no other words, this scene had redneck written all over it.

Now let me explain even further the details of this incident. I'm a Dallas Cowboys fan (yes, I know, much to the chagrin of my many friends and family members). I am also what would have to be called "a GM man" - I have a pretty blue Chevy Camaro with fine brushed aluminum (silver) rims in my stable of cars - yes, that would be Cowboy colors (honestly, this was purely by chance, but it is really a very pretty and NON-standard blue color). I also know that I am simply and absolutely cursed with Fords - it seems that every time I drive one, bad things happen... and this time was going to prove to be no different.

Allow me to elaborate....

Once, years ago, I drove my brother's children home for them in their car, a Ford Escort wagon. I had problems with the manual transmission, not because I can't drive one cause I can with no problems... normally - but something about the way Ford does things with their tranny really irks me. I wasn't a real anti-Ford guy at the time, but this drive certainly added one more nail to the Ford coffin for me. Well, as I cruised up Chippenham Turnpike to go get my brother Michael's kids, *BAWHUMP*... a loud noise, the car lurched upwards... and then I noticed just how loud the car had gotten.

<>Now, most of you would perhaps guess at this point that the muffler had fallen off... and, yes, it had... but that's not all that fell off. Oh no! Not with my Ford "luck"... no... on this instance? The ENTIRE EXHAUST SYSTEM FROM THE MANIFOLD TO THE TAILPIPE FELL OFF THE CAR. And of course, I got blamed for it - my brother never said anything out loud, of course... but I'm thinking he or his wife somehow felt it was my fault. Ahh well... (and it's sad to say that this wasn't the only time an exhaust has fallen off of a Ford while I was behind the wheel) So, that's just one instance where my Ford luck held true. There are a few others, but I won't bore you with those details.

So back to the near present... and to tie all of this seemingly useless information together:
the so-called ultimate archrival for the Dallas Cowboys are the Washington Redskins. (That whole Cowboys vs Indians theme, I guess.) The Redskins colors are red and gold. And the Ford "equivalent" (for lack of a better word) of a Chevy Camaro is the Ford Mustang.

So just what sort of car do you think this drunk redneck chick was driving?
That's right, a Red Ford Mustang with gold aftermarket rims... and it was sporting redskins helmet stickers in each of the rear side windows.

Now was this not an obvious sign that I should have said, "NO!"??

Well, my friend, S***** , that had asked me to help her, does not know how to drive a manual transmission car, which is what this Mustang had... so there was no real choice for it but for me to get behind the wheel of this hellish car. Yes, my skin began to itch as soon as I got in the car.

Well, Drunk Girl rode with me... and she was babbling on and on... it started raining... and her windshield wipers looked like they had NEVER been changed - which made it fun trying to see down the road known as Midlothian Turnpike.

And the story only gets worse...