While I don't have any pictures - I didn't have a camera on me - I do have a bit of a story that fits here.
I admit it: my car has a rear spoiler that was not a part of it when I bought her. But rest assured that it was made by Mitsubishi, and we bought it because the rear of a 2001 Lancer looks a little weak without one. The reason I'm saying this is because today it drew a little bit of attention.
My best friend and I were going into town late this afternoon because I was making dinner for her and we needed to get some meat, but I was low on petrol and so I pulled into a petrol station just down the road on the way back. By strange twist of fate, only two of the eight pumps were working, an the only one that was free was adjacent to a Toyota Supra that was loaded with the works. I'm talking about stupidly low suspension, enough fibreglass wrapped around the front to insulate my block in college, an insane spoiler across the back that limited the driver's rearview to square about six inches by six inches, tinted headlights, tasteless alloys, all manner of TRD, HKS etc stickers (I'm pretty sure he had the whole alphabet on the side) and a paint job designed to make the thing look like it was raw carbon fibre (which would look awesome on an actual racing car).
Anyway, the driver is sitting there listening to - of all things - Parkway Drive, and suitably attired with the roof section removed while his girlfriend (somebody I know from classes) is in the process of refuelling the car and putting on a huge show of it while he's sitting there trying to look cool, but coming across as constipated. By now, I'm looking around for the cameras, because there's no way this thing can be serious, but apparently it was. The girlfriend climbs into the car without opening the door - after paying (and probably with her own money) - and straps herself into a racing seat before the guy turns the engine on. The sound from his tailpipe sounds like the Tsar Bomba and probably draws the attentions of every police patrol from here to the coast every time he so much as turns it on.
Me, I'm trying very hard not to laugh at the absurd sight as I refuel - leaving my friend in the air conditioned comfort rather than have her drape herself all over my car in an effort to prove my manhood - and I've forgotten him by the end of the block. But a few hours later we saw them again. My friend lives in a self-contained unit on the eastern side of the university, and we were sitting up on the balcony after dinner when this green-eyed monster comes in. Access to the carpark is via a narrow one-lane affair marked with several speed humps. This ridiculous car comes in and can't make it over the first speed hump because it's been lowered so far. He has to park it at a funny angle and drive it in, getting one wheel over at a time, then working the wheel to get opposite lock, performing a sixty-point turn and getting the other front wheel over. And that's just for the first of four. To add insult to injury, his girlfriend has to get out and walk him through it, but heavy rain has turned most of the grassy sections around the university into a swampy mire. We felt no obligation to help these two idiots for the next thirty-five minutes as they try to get the damned Supra in, apparently oblivious to the fact that they have to get it back out in the morning. When they finally parked it, the driver says "Well, s**t, sweetie, we're nearly out of the go-faster juice. Gonna have to fill my baby up with the good stuff in the morning!", his voice carrying all the way over to us (admittedly, we weren't far away).
So there you have it. Dinner and a show.