Road debris, potholes, speed bumps, and steep driveways are fierce enemies in the war between sport trucks and the public highways. If you roll with a lowered stance, then you too are a warrior in the battle versus the road unknown. But, just because we build 'em clean and low, doesn't mean they are ready for a drive on the disaster that is the streets we roll over. And most of the problems are caused by ignorant people who abuse these roads, such as those damned people who drop their load while moving, trucks that sink asphalt and launch windshield-killin' rocks, and plastic bags that always find their way to your exhaust leaving your truck smelling like it's burning off something important. Then, there are those potholes that will eat up those nice custom billet wheels like a soda can being crushed. After you make a safe haul on the highway, you still have to exit the road to some driveway where the worst of the enemy's soldiers await because the cement has been designed as an obstacle course rather than a smooth path to cruise through. Once you get past the 45 degree-angled driveway, you have a mess of rain gutters and mounds of asphalt know as speed bumps.

If you can recall my column in the Dec. '05 issue, I told y'all about me and Jake's X-mas adventure at the local mall. The gifts we got that day were well-appreciated by the gang, except for my better half who decided that she didn't need my half anymore when she was somehow disappointed with her gift. Isn't a Sawzall a great gift for any lady, or am I just delusional of what a perfect woman should like? Anyway, me and Jake had a run-in with yule-time traffic and holiday security. We left with some nice goods, but we arrived home with a wounded truck. The rocker panels were abused by the speed bumps, and the molded roll pan was busted off as we limped home with a blown 'bag in the rearend. The boys in my club, Draggers Inc., especially didn't like how the old '74 Chevy was wrecked yet still had the club logo plastered over its rear window. When I showed up at my next meeting after the incident, the guys voted that I must clean my ride or scrape of the sticker. Since it's more than a sticker to me, getting the boot from the club was not an option.

I made a trip down to a local body shop to see if I could get the repairs done before the upcoming show season. I walked into this shop, and manager Ignacio, a pudgy dude with a mustache and slicked-back hair, short in front and long in back, walked out. I could hardly contain my laughter while staring at his sweet Mexi-mullet. He quoted me two grand to fix and repaint the entire truck. Astonished at the good price, considering the work needed to be done, I gave him the keys and some cash to get him started on it. I walked outside to call my new ex for a lift back home. She told me to stick it where the sun don't shine and that I didn't appreciate her when we were together so I would just have to deal with my problems by myself now.

Depressed, I walked back into the shop to see if anyone could help me out. I let Ignacio know that I needed a ride home and was willing to pay my fair share of gas money to get me there. He told me that he may have a way for me to get home without spending any money.If I was willing to go out on a date with his 23-year-old college student daughter, he would give me a lift. At first, I was skeptical, until he keep insisting on it and assured me that she was a well-toned woman that works out at the gym daily. Oh, how my day just keeps getting better, I thought. I get a deal on bodywork and score a date with a hot college student.

The next thing I knew, Ignacio popped around the corner on a Vespa scooter. I asked him if he delivered pizzas as a side job, but he wasn't laughing. Finally, I broke down, took the bitch seat, and we rode into the wind on his two-wheeled wonder. When we got to my house, I had him pull around to the back entrance, so the neighborhood kids wouldn't spot me. I took the city bus to and from work that day. Ignacio took it upon himself to arrange my little date, so I had no idea what his daughter really looked like.

I prepped myself for the big date because every girl is crazy about the sharp-dressed man. A fresh shave, nice dress attire, combed hair, and a fresh coating of Axe body spray was all I needed. I anxiously waited at the Italian restaurant for Vanessa to arrive. I watched as people came in and out. Then, I noticed this long-haired beast walk in, and I thanked my blessings that I wasn't dating someone like that. But, then that thing walked straight up to me and asked if I was Mark. I found out the hard way that the beast was my date. I kept wondering to myself how the hell Ignacio and Arnold Schwarzenegger could've had a kid together, because I was definitely looking at their daughter. Normally, in this situation, I would fake an illness and leave, but as I looked to the seat next to me, I blew chunks all over the table-for real.

The worst part is later I woke up next to her in bed. I jumped out of the bed and tried to escape before she saw me leave, but as I crept around the house, I stumbled across her father. He stood in his robe and pink bunny slippers, staring me down. Then, he took a sip of his coffee and asked how I was feeling. I told him I was doing much better since the incident at the restaurant. He was confused and told me that he didn't hear anything about an incident but was questioning how I was feeling after my night in bed with Vanessa since he had heard some loud noises coming from her room. I didn't wait around to hear him say another word. I ran out of the house and took the bus home.

I got a call from Ignacio a few days later, and he let me know that my truck was ready. I gathered my funds together and made my way to his shop that afternoon. There was no one in the office, so I found my keys and left the dough on his desk. I ran outside, got in my truck, and then I boned the hell out of there. I never received a call from Ignacio or Vanessa again; I think Ignacio was probably happy enough someone spent an evening with that beast he called a daughter, even if it was by accident.

I am a changed man after that experience. I realized that I needed my girlfriend back in my life, otherwise I'd have to keep on dating ugly chicks. So, I convinced her to come back, by returning the Sawzall and buying her tickets to the theater instead. Now that I have my woman back and my truck is lookin' fine, I'm ready to tackle whatever the road throws at me. Just wait until I tell you about my latest adventure. It's crazy!