Vince McMahon story from Jim Ross's book "Slobberknocker"
It seemed like Vince was happy with me, too. "Jim, you ride with me," he said after a few weeks of Raw. In the parking bay of the building, Vince had a big Cadillac waiting. I could tell the second he started the engine that this was going to be a little bit of a "white knuckle" ride.
"What music do you listen to?" he asked.
"Eh...well I...."
Before I could answer McMahon blasted AC/DC through the car speakers, the sound of which made everyone turn to see who the asshole was. When they saw it was the chairman's car, they all smiled and waved. We reached the road outside the building and Vince floored it. I honestly thought I was going to die before we even made it to the highway. I was stuck to the back of my seat praying to the good Lord himself for a safe journey. Beside me, Vince was singing at the top of his lungs, punching 90 miles an hour on a secondary road, all while "dancing" in his seat. "I'M AN AMAZING DANCER FOR A WHITE MAN," he shouted over the music.
"I CAN SEE," I shouted back.
Any car he met along the way, Vince drove inches from their trunk until they moved over. Sensing my utter terror, he leaned into me, taking his eyes completely off the road, and shouted in my ear, "I'VE GOT AMAZING DEPTH PERCEPTION. DON'T WORRY, PAL."
"OK."
