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    Living Dangerously with Miss Scatpack: On Gunfights, Pink Cars and Being a Menace to Society


    My dad was always into sports cars my whole life. He raised my brother, sisters and I to be just like him. I had three Ford Mustang GT convertibles before this, I got my first one when I was 25 years old. When I was looking for a new car, I wanted the max horsepower that I could afford, I wanted four doors and I wanted American, so that left the Dodge Charger. Originally, I blacked everything out on it, the windows, the taillights, the wheels, but the police didn't really like the all-black car. I was always being followed and getting pulled over a lot. Finally now that I have this wrap, the police leave me alone, because they know I'm a girl. In their eyes, the pink car is probably not as dangerous to society as the all-black Charger. Little do they know that last Saturday I was on a rally with my car club and had a run-in with a Marine in a lifted Chevy truck. When I came up on him he did not want the “pink girl car” to pass him. He cut in front of me one way and then he cut in front of me again the other way. Finally he just drove in the middle of the street, between two lanes, just so that I wouldn't pass him! He didn’t realize that there were about 20 other guys behind me on this rally. One of my friends saw it all happen, so we got in front of him and, of course, had to slow down to make sure he understood the speed limit. The problem was that this guy ended up getting out of the car and shouting, “I have a gun and a bullet for all of you!” Someone called the cops and they brought out the helicopter. Now the guys all make fun of me for it.

    My friends and family think I have lost my mind with this car, but I love it. Everybody who really knows me always says, “This is so you”. It’s my brand: fun, fast, flirty, American. Most of the guys in the club are really nice to me, they treat me like a sister. Sometimes they talk circles around me with all the technicalities of the car, but I just let them. I don't try to act like I know, because I don't care. My thing is, “Does it go fast? Does it light up when I step on the pedal?” That’s what I want: I go, I put the gas in and I'm happy. That's all I need.