Yup, that's the thought du jour from David Ferguson blogging at The Guardian. And he should know; he's been shot at!
It's quite the compelling yarn, is it not? There he is at age 18, helping a young hottie up sticks to get away from her abusive boyfriend, no doubt angling for a shag in the big-picture scheme of things. At 18 I certainly would have been.
So they're stuffing all her worldly belongings in a battered old Subaru sedan... all good. I'm totally with the narrative so far.
Then the drunken and angry meth or cocaine addled boyfriend shows up... hey pal; that's happened to me too!
Could I tell you a few stories! (And as a matter of fact, I have had to run for my life on a couple of occasions, and I'm still here, so your advice is not completely without merit.)
But I gotta say you lost me when that baffed out old Subaru sedan left a trail of burned rubber on the road.
No way did that ever happen. I've owned and driven old Subarus for many years. They have many virtues (none of which would be apparent in a Georgia winter) but they're so under-powered they could hardly get out of their own way.
Ya, the WRX era opened a new chapter, but those were not battered and old when you were 18.