I pull off the freeway and pull up behind this beauty. At first I'm thinking, "what an ugly car". Then I see the hand print and my eyes flash to the turret mounted on top. WTF!

I'm desperately trying to get the stupid phone camera to focus so I get a decent pic of that turret. And I think to myself, "Nux is going to appear any second and scream WITNESS ME! as he jumps on my hood and spears me thru my unprotected p.o.s. Sentra windshield."

I'm following this demon car as I drive my normal route to work and I start to worry that my talking pics of their car may piss them off. They speed up and leave me behind. But I see them turn into a business park not 1/8 mile from my work. I drive straight and then circle back hoping my luck holds. And voila!

My head is shaking in disbelief as I snap photos grinning like an idiot at the shear audacity of this car's owner. I'm at once grateful and disappointed that the owner isn't in sight.

Grates over every glass surface. Gun barrel slots for maximum angles of attack or defense.

Obviously something significant happened in this owner's life to warrant the drastic change in profession indicated.

This is where I realized it wasn't a Mad Max fantasy car. The utter utilitarian nature of the vehicle's interior cemented in my mind the dedication of this owner's preparedness to deal with Zombies! All of a sudden I was no longer afraid of getting caught. I wanted to be this owner's friend. No, I NEEDED them to be my friend. Self-preservation is a powerful motivation.

After writing all of the above the guy added "Let's go to lunch sometime. My treat. Anything you want, Friend!" You were witnessed.