The Lone Pink Ranger

     You have to wonder about a man that drives a second-hand pink car. Not a Mary Kay Cadillac, but one of the little starter cars you get when you sell your first load of lipstick.  Heading to Lancaster, driving down Hwy 9, a pink Pontiac Vibe came roaring by us like Dale Jr. on a good day. I expected to see see a little old lady behind the wheel, wearing tons of masacara as she hauled around the newest fall shades in eye shadow. Instead, it was some dude with a Redman hat, a big ole tattoo wrapped around his bicep, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, woofers blasting away.   I had  to look twice, to make sure I wasn't having a bad hallucination.  Blink, blink. No, there he was, Willie Nelson jr. riding a Pink Pony, playing drums on the steering wheel as he rolled down the road. 
     I was fascinated. It was obvious this was not some light-weight who thought pink was the new red.  Didn't this guy hear about the Cash for Clunkers program?  Was this his girlfriend's car he had borrowed during a crisis, or had he just car-jacked grandma at the rest stop off I-77 and was making a quick get-away? He didn't have the look of a fleeing criminal, or maybe he was just too stoned to care, but it was7:30 in the morning,  and I didn't think that was the case. He appeared to be in complete control of his senses and seemed to be driving a pink car simply because he could.
     I wanted to follow him, see where this pink cowboy was headed, but decided it was better to not know the real story. He was probably just headed to work at the Waffle House in his mama's car. I preferred to believe he was a lone wolf, marching to the beat of his own pink drum, a man who wasn't afraid to stop and ask for directions. So for now, the legend would live on, as the Lone Pink Ranger galloped away down the lonely road, just a man and his trusty pink ride.