And there sat fasteddy on the hood of his 55 DeSoto, age 16, 6'2" and all of 145lbs soaking wet, in the parking lot of the local hamburger heaven down in the river bottoms, watching all the other people with less than nothing to do driving thru on a weekday night. Never known for his tact and judgement in those days, Eddy spots a local heavyweight contender in the big ole' gal competition driving by in the her Cougar, with the dside list caused by at least 300lbs of woman pilot. And I'm following my grandfather's advice on always underestimating the weight of the fairer sex, in this case by maybe a century or so. I mean this was a real BIG'UN. This was the day old Eddy got the nickname "Fast", after I shouted something original like "Go home, Tank, the war is over", and she slammed on the brakes, "hopped" out, and stated in a basso profundo that she was gonna whup my a$$ into a grease spot. I believed her, and since I couldn't get the Desoto past the Cougar, I lit out for the Indian mound in the firm belief that she'd never make it to the top. Wrong. I did outrun the Cougar up Court Street hill, however, proving that Eddy was faster than a 289 carrying penalty weight, and was Fast Eddy forever after. She later gained local fame as a professional wrestler and bouncer at the state line honkytonks (just like in "Walking Tall"), and died in a knife fight with her little sister.

This proves that there are just two outcomes from hitting a woman, both bad. You might win the fight, and you might lose...