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Fact Check with the Man Who Has a Fast Car

Todd Mercer

    Tracy can be a lot of fun, but watch out. If you make her angry, she’ll flat-out write a song about you.
    You’ll be in your Mustang, making the road blur by without hardly touching the gas pedal, then boom, there’s Tracy on the radio, telling every citizen with ears that she’s paying all our bills from her night shift job at the 7-11.
    All our bills?? C’mon, Tracy. Maybe she covered like 55%, 60% when I had a bad month, tops. Who paid for that long weekend at the motor lodge in the goddamn Catskills? Somehow that highlight didn’t make it into the song. Who bought your phone, Tracy? Riddle me that.
    I’m not going to lie—people are digging her music. She may be able to quit the convenience store if the hits keep coming. Am I worried she’ll fall in love with someone else while she’s out on tour? Hell no. I’ve got this Mustang in my favor. Who’s going to let that go?
    People I don’t even know are shaming me on the streets about seeing more of my friends than I see of my kids. It’s infuriating. Are you following me around with a stop-watch and a clipboard, nosy stranger?
    Been trying to prevent this from turning ugly, but if I hear any more fancy smack-talkin’ songs about me, God as my witness I will tell everyone and their Grandma exactly why you spent two weeks in a Virginia jail. You’re throwing bricks in a glass house, girl.
    Now life is changing. Somebody won’t return phone calls because they’re the next big thing. Somebody would do well to think back to what they said was the best time of their lives.
    I coaxed the Mustang up to 110 on the freeway at night. My hand was on Tracy’s knee. Her arm hung out the window. She was laughing at everything I said. We’d drank quite a bit of wine.
    That day the 7-11 bosses were talking about making her Assistant Store Manager. She wanted us to get married. We could move away if we wanted to. Anything seemed possible.
    She said, “You and me, Eddie.”
    I said, “Forever, Baby.”
    I flattened the accelerator, almost 115. She howled like a wolf out the window.
    We were really in love. Now I’m a famous villain and she’s playing shows across Europe. As long as I have this quick-ass Mustang though, the possibilities are practically unlimited.

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