Published January 13, 2015
One Israeli motorist got off with more than just a ticket Sunday.
The woman was so overcome with passion while cruising down a major freeway that she stopped in the fast lane to have sex with her companion, Reuters reports.
The couple's amorous adventure caused traffic delays and countless smiles, no doubt, on the faces of the drivers who swerved around the vehicle and caught a glimpse of the steamy windows.
The congestion prompted an investigation by a local police officer, who approached the vehicle while the pair was still in the throes of passion.
But the scene must have brought a smile to his face, too, as he had heart enough to let the driver off easy. She got just one ticket — for holding up traffic.
This Vino Tasteless in More Ways Than One
It's a dusty old vintage with a dubious distinction — it's the wine of the Third Reich.
Wine connoisseurs flocked to an auction in Devon, England, over the weekend to bid on a 1943 bottle of Führerwein bearing the likeness of Adolf Hitler, the British Broadcasting Corp. reports.
"I have never seen or heard about anything like this in my 20 years [in the business]," Plymouth Auction Rooms auctioneer Paul Keen told the BBC. "Not only is it unusual, it is also extremely rare to find.
"We understand these bottles were given out to Hitler's top-ranking officers on his birthday."
The bottle is undrinkable because of its age, experts said, but that didn't stop the winning British bidder from snatching up the vino for $7,775 — a steep price for a wine that's tasteless in more ways than one.
Taquito? We Thought Y'all Said Taco Grande
MEXICO CITY (AP) — A group of businessmen in the northern Mexican City of Chihuahua broke a tasty record Friday, making a hunk of meat on a skewer big enough to serve 24,000 tacos.
In the Friday event dubbed as the "Tacoton," the meat for a pastor taco, a variety of the Mexican dish that consists of pork squashed onto a stake, weighed 3.9 tons and was 13 feet high, Mexican government news agency Notimex reported.
Officials from the Guinness Book of World Records recognized the hunk of meat as the world's "largest skewer of kebab meat," Notimex reported.
Portions of the vast snack were sold with a drink for $1 a piece to hungry spectators. Chihuahua businessmen financed the mega taco and gave proceeds from sales to a home for abandoned children, Notimex said.
Lucky in Love and Doubly Lucky in Game
GRANTS PASS, Ore. (AP) — You can call Claudette Osborn double-lucky.
Last week she won her second brand-new car in nine months while gambling in a casino. In June, she drove home in a $30,000 silver Saturn Sky convertible from Spirit Mountain Casino after playing the penny slots.
Last week it was a $20,000 shiny-red Volkswagen Beetle she won in a drawing at Seven Feathers Casino in Canyonville.
"I must be living right or something," said Osborn, a retired state revenue agent who works part-time inspecting rental properties.
Osborn and her husband, Dale, had driven to Seven Feathers for a Valentine's Day dinner and to do a little gambling. Her name was called as one of five finalists in the car giveaway.
"I was playing poker in the poker room, and I had gotten a full house when I heard my name," Osborn said. "I thought, 'Oh, no, I can't leave. This is the first good hand I've had."'
A friend encouraged Osborn to leave the game, pointing out that the most she could win in the poker game was less than $100. Osborn left and won the car.
"You can't believe how many people gave me hugs and kisses," she said. "It's the first time on Valentine's Day I got a decent present!"
She traded in the Saturn Sky for a 2005 Toyota Camry plus cash. And the VW? She's not sure.
"It drives really nice and it's a beautiful little red car," she said. "But I love my blue Camry. I'm going to let this one sit in the garage awhile and think about it."
It Will Be a Graveside Service and Yes, the Bride Will Wear White
PACIFIC, Mo. (AP) — It's not the traditional "till death do us part," but Scott Amsler and Miranda Patterson believe getting hitched in a graveyard is just thinking outside the box.
Come September, the Illinois couple expects to pledge their undying love among the dearly departed in this St. Louis suburb's city cemetery, even though those who approved the request are dead set against seeing it become a trend.
The wedding wouldn't be out of character for Amsler, 27, a computer expert for a financial company by day and rehabber of old hearses by night.
The graveyard, he said, just has a certain tranquility and thriftiness for nuptials the young couple insists will be small, private and traditional — except for the bagpipes, Amsler's refurbished hearse and the throng of eternally silent witnesses.
"People are going to think how they want. I don't actively try to convince people that my interests are normal or logical," Amsler said. "I'm not a freak or Satan worshipper or cult member. It just goes with our theme."
Deep down, the couple said, it just seemed right.
Amsler and Patterson, who recently moved to Collinsville, Ill., became an item not long after they met in November 2005 at a birthday party where Patterson, 21, was to have been the celebrant's blind date. Amsler showed up in a retooled hearse that caught Patterson's eye.
"I wanted a ride in it but I chickened out at the last minute," she said.
By their first date weeks later, on New Year's Eve, Patterson knew Amsler was the one. Not long afterward, she quit her factory job in Sullivan, Mo., and moved in with Amsler in Troy, Ill.
Amsler proposed last June, affixing to the side of the 1965 hearse — which the two call "Edgar" — a plate with a simple message: "Will you marry me?" Seconds later, the ring slid onto a crying Patterson's finger.
She received Edgar as an engagement gift and had only one stipulation: The wedding had to be outside, in a gazebo.
Her worries were laid to rest while she and Amsler drove to her dad's house. While traveling on Interstate 44, Patterson spotted a gazebo on a hilltop, only to find it was in a graveyard. No worries.
"The view was just gorgeous," she said. "I said, 'This is where I want to get married."'
When the couple called last fall for permission to use the three-acre cemetery, which dates to the Civil War, City Clerk Jo Ann Hoehne told them the local cemetery committee would have to decide.
"When I spoke to them, they were just a normal young couple who wanted to have a wedding some place they thought was nice and serene for a very small, intimate wedding," Hoehne said. "They weren't any cult group or anything like that."
Bill Hohman, a 71-year-old alderman on the cemetery panel, wasn't sure what to think.
"It's strange to me. This is kind of an unusual thing around here," he said of the country town where the roughly 5,700 residents "roll up the sidewalks at nine o'clock, and everyone goes to bed."
The committee last month signed off on the couple's request despite concerns about the appropriateness of the setting for the occasion — and fears that a burial might be scheduled for the same time.
Hohman, though, vows to introduce a measure to make Amsler-Patterson nuptials the last among this town's tombstones. "Once the horse is out of the barn, you have to have an ordinance," he said.
But Patterson said she and Amsler have respect for the living and the dead.
"We're not going to do anything stupid or horrible. We just want to have a wedding," she said.
"Some of the ladies I work with said, 'Are you crazy? Why would you get married in a cemetery?' Does it matter where we get married, just as long as we get married?"
Compiled by FOXNews.com's Sara Bonisteel.
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