Vance: a story of fat, food addiction and a Mercury Marquis People who hate my wrestling stuff, fear not!  This is a story from when I was a young man, long before my professional wrestling days. This story takes place in the mid 1980s.  I was fresh out of high school and had just enlisted in the Army and was waiting to ship off to basic training.  I was working for my Dad for the summer and was basically killing time waiting to leave.  I was spending a lot of time hanging out with the only two friends I had at the time.  My friend Josh was a 5'8", 140 lb. dude with a long, red ponytail.  Then there's Vance. Vance is fat, and there's no way to sugarcoat that fact, and if I did, I'm sure he'd find a way to eat it.  Vance was around 6'2" and over 400 lbs by his own admission.  He was also a food addict, but that was obvious enough he didn't need to say a word.  To this day I've never seen anyone who can eat like Vance.  Not even the people on My 600 Lb. Life seem to be able to eat like Vance did.  This guy, at 18 years of age, could go out and buy a frozen pizza and a 1 lb. brick of mozzarella cheese, grate the WHOLE BRICK onto this pizza, and eat the whole greasy mess within 30 minutes of taking it out of the oven.  Then he'd go on the prowl for more food.  He once took a challenge at a local restaurant and ate a 5 lb. burger the size of a dinner plate within 25 minutes and then ordered two more entrees.  So yeah, he loved food, but it didn't do his body or health any favors. One hot, summer day in the mid 1980s, we were bored out of our minds and sweating our asses off since we were at Josh's house and there was no working AC.  Vance came up with the idea of going to the local Dairy Queen knock-off.  We were hot, he was bitching about being hot and hungry, so we decided "why not?"  After all, the shop had air conditioning, we could cool off while we ate and then figure out something else to do.  So, it's off to the local Mom-and-Pop DQ copy. We piled into Vance's shit box Mercury Marquis station wagon.  This thing was from the early 70s and was, by far, the biggest piece of shit I've ever seen on a US road to this day.  The front brakes didn't work, and the rear brakes barely worked.  The exhaust was broken off near the manifold at the engine, and since this engine was a 4-something or other V8 (not a car guy folks) this thing was LOUD.  Like, it could be heard a half mile away and the sound waves knocked shit off my walls when he pulled into the driveway, LOUD.  And it was so full of holes and rust, we'd all nicknamed this piece of shit car, "Tetanus."  But, I digress.  We piled into the car and drove to the local DQ knockoff.  Josh and I got regular sized ice cream cones, and Vance bought a banana split.  We all finished our ice cream and decided we'd hit the local state park's lake and take a dip to stay cool.  But before we left, Vance hopped back into line.  He wanted to get himself an ice cream cone "for the trip to the lake."  His blood sugars plummet, dontcha know!  At this point, Josh and I naively went along with it because we were young, the 80s were a different time and frankly, we weren't smart enough at the time to know his "condishun" was all bullshit. So we wait the 5 minutes, Vance gets the ice cream cone (the biggest they sold, of course) and piling back into Tetanus we go.  Vance starts the car as he munches his ice cream and we're headed towards the lake.  On the way to the lake, on the right side of the road, there was a golf course, and between the road and the golf course was a ditch that was about 8 feet deep.  The drop from the road into the ditch wasn't sudden; rather, it was actually a somewhat gentle incline.  The drop from the golf course to the ditch, however, is a different story.  That incline was QUITE steep, and after that incline was a rather hardy stone and wood fence put there to keep the riff raff (like us) out.  Vance is flying down the road in this shit box Mercury at 70 MPH, and picking up speed.  As I look from the back seat, I notice Vance is paying an unusual amount of attention to this ice cream cone as he licks it.  As in, he's no longer really looking at the road.  As he eats this frozen treat, he's absolutely eye fucking this food and making grunting and groaning noises reminiscent of a fat girl's mukbang video.  I'm almost to the point I want to shout to Josh in the front seat to check Vance's pants for cum stains, and then it happens.  Vance is paying so much attention to his sweet, sweet beetus that the car starts to pull to the right and into the ditch.  Josh says "Uh, Vance..." Vance doesn't respond.  Vance doesn't even look up from his cone.  I say "Vance, we're going off the road!"  No response.  The car's veered onto the shoulder and has now headed into the ditch.  Josh and I are starting to slip to the right side of the car.  Vance is still transfixed with his ice cream cone. "VANCE!" Josh screams.  Vance doesn't bat an eyelash.and engulfs the ice cream the way a porn star engulfs a cock for a paycheck.  At this point, we're not only fully driving in a ditch, we're about to go up the other side, which is easily steep enough to flip this death trap of a car.  I'm yelling at the top of my lungs to stop or steer, but I'm getting the same non-response Josh is getting.  Finally, in a move that probably saved all our asses that day, Josh grabbed the steering wheel and jerked us back onto the road. And at that point Vance drops a line that, to this day absolutely blows my mind.  Vance, his spell now broken, looks over at Josh and tells him "you know, it's really rude to jerk someone's steering wheel when they're driving.  You could kill someone!"  This fat fuck was so enamored with his ice cream cone that he was hypnotized to the point he didn't know he was driving in a ditch and a few seconds away from flipping his piece of shit Mercury.  Josh and I were...well, freakin' stunned.  We just looked at each other and exchanged knowing glances.  "Yes, that just happened."  We say no more, take some deep breaths and continued to the park, where we had a fairly uneventful swim. At that point in time, food addiction wasn't really a thing.  Some will argue it still isn't, but the behavior I witnessed from my ham (former) friend that day tends to lead me to believe that food addiction actually is a thing.  There's no other rational explanation for being so enamored with an ice cream cone that you're willing to kill yourself and two other people. TL;DR:  Fat friend is borderline sexually aroused by an ice cream cone, drives into a ditch and almost kills us all. Thanks for hanging in there, folks!  If there's any interest in my story at all, let me know because I have some other tales of Vance.