On why I love living in truck country™.
A colleague of husband's drives a Dodge Ram pickup with a hemi, and he is so impassioned about his truck that he meets regularly with a group of enthusiasts who all drive the same damned vehicle. Last weekend, they convened at a Golden Corral (low-budget buffet fare - don't allow yourself to be dragged there) for a meal after which they repaired to the wide-open spaces of a disused parking lot to practice peeling out, burning rubber and no doubt plenty of farting. A security guard came along and told them they had to leave the parking lot or he was going to call the police. Mind you, here are 19 middle aged men (little boys) in their identical Dodge Ram pickups being told to clear out by a security guard on a golf cart. Reprobates!
One guy mentions that for a $25 charity donation they can go to a local race track and do three laps around. This suggestion is met with great enthusiasm, so they all pile into their trucks and start following the guy who made the suggestion, but he clearly doesn't know where they are going and drives too slowly for everyone's taste. Along the highway comes a guy with an identical pickup to one of the group leaders, who happened to be driving near the back of the convoy. He flies by the group, and they all start following him, thinking he'd taken up the reins to lead the way. Suddenly, they are driving in a Fort Worth residential neighborhood and although it's curious, they stay with their leader. At last, the head truck comes to a cul-de-sac, and someone they've never seen before parks on the street, jumps out of his truck and runs into his house. Then, of course, there is the glut of 19 more pickups crammed into the narrow turnaround of this dead end street. Imagine you're driving home and a group of 19 vehicles identical to yours starts following you - how weird is that? No doubt he was whipping out the shotguns as soon as he was through the door.
Now, rams are the animals that slam their heads together over and over for entertainment, right?