It's been 40 years since you could walk into a Hertz outlet and drive off in a Shelby Mustang, leaving a stretch of rubber across the lot. We always imagined some jet pilot and his gin-soaked, bouffant-wearing squeeze hopping into one of those GT350H fastbacks and roaring off to some shag-clad den with Esquivel on the hi-fi and ice melting in untouched highball glasses. Of course, a few decades later, we find it's actually a guy in his eighties, alone but for his cowboy hat. We weren't too far off.
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Hurt Me, Hertz: The 2006 Shelby Hertz Mustang [internal]
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