There’s a new gunslinger in town, only this one’s weapon of choice is not measured by calibre but instead by cubic inches of displacement.
Gone are the tumbleweeds and the jingle of spurs. Now the signs of an impending duel are stacked lights and the growling howl of horsepower. Metal twisting torque and tire shredding power are the measuring sticks.
What? This isn’t new? Well of course it isn’t, but I’ve only read about it before, now I know how it feels. Last year, after scrimping and saving I finally bought the car of my dreams. Ok, maybe not the car of my dreams but close as damn is to swearing. Yes I would like a ’69 Charger or a ’65 GTO or even the ’67 Ford Cobra or ’68 Mustang 500. In fact, the 2005 Mustang is, of the newer generation, my favorite body style. I got a 2003 Mustang GT convertible. So, pretty damn close!

What’s this got to do with old west gunslingers? Now that I own this car I’ve noticed a few things. Other Mustang owners wave at me, like you see the motorcyclists doing. Now cars that drive by, for some reason feel the need to either rev their engines or peel away.
I’m beginning to think there is some truth to the argument that men buy cars as a symbol of their manhood. That when they see something that threatens said manhood, they thump their chests by way of the gas pedal. Quite often, the argument states that the larger, faster or louder the car/motorcycle/truck, the more they are trying to compensate for.
Now I’ll admit, the mixture of testosterone and adrenaline is a heady concoction. It is way too easy to succumb to the need for speed. When that engine goes from a quite purr to a throaty growl and then to a full on howl I feel like laughing and to be honest, I’m not quite sure that I don’t. But I am a firm believer of that old adage, with power comes responsibility. There are always someone who wants to prove that they are a faster draw, and you know what? I let them continue to think that. 300 horsepower can inflict a lot more damage than Clint Eastwood’s .44 Magnum “the most powerful handgun in the world”. When I get behind the wheel, it is no longer just my life I gamble with.
That said, the supposed symbol of my manhood is silver steel and glass with a black top that makes wonderful noises and uses too much gas but is sooo much fun to drive. It’s not the biggest one out there, I’m man enough to admit, and I don’t need to prove it is. Fact of the matter is, I like it and so does my wife.

Woop, woop, woop…
What do you mean driving a Mustang convertible has to do with testosterone? My Mom drives one.
Love the wisdom from “Spiderman”.
Yea yea yea. Rub it in.