I don’t speed. Well, almost never, but this time was different.
Here’s the scenario: I’m on a road trip to see a friend, Houston to San Antonio, Texas. I’m driving on the interstate and begin to merge into the exit lane when this Mustang behind me—already on the exit lane—decides to speed up to get in front of me. I almost crash trying to avoid him.
Luckily I’m able to make the exit. I pull up beside him at a red light. Nothing around except for a filling station. As I scan the area, the idiot decides to rev his engine. I look over to see him making gestures as if to say, “Come on, tough guy, or are you scared?” I ignore him…until I notice my V1—which I had muted due to a headache—is showing a red arrow pointing forward. Signal strength is about 60 percent.
Now, I’m not one for revenge, but this opportunity is too good to pass up.
He revs again. This time I rev back. The light turns green and we both screech off. However, shortly after my launch I brake hard and get back down to the limit. Idiot Boy flies on about half a mile before he gets busted. The cop is at his window as I drive by. IB glares at me. I just wave and drive away into the sunset.
Well, the sunset was actually behind me.