A Streaker, Now Reformed

Driving without my Valentine One is like walking naked down Main Street, yet I’d been without it for 3 months. My last car was totaled when a nephew blew a stop sign. And being the persnickety sort, I couldn’t simply mount the V1 on my dashboard; it has to be hardwired and stealthy as possible, which means a remote display to keep the flashing lights for my eyes only. I put off the job because it would take a few hours to do in a way that would make me happy and I never seemed to find the time.

My daily drive is Interstate 91 in Massachusetts. The State Police do their jobs exceeding well and I am grateful for their presence…most of the time. On I-91 they have a half dozen favored ambush spots. It’s a comforting ritual, this coming back to the same places, as it gives us regulars a chance to get legal on a just-in-time basis.

A couple days ago a trooper—must have been a rookie—was in a totally new place. I was without V1 and I blew by him on full blur. Sure enough, he pulled out, lights gloriously ablaze and twin rooster tails shooting from his Charger. My heart did that thing it only does during uh-oh moments on the road. To my great surprise, he pulled over an X5 behind me. I really thought he was coming after me because of the timing of his lights—I had just passed the X5—but who knows, maybe he has a thing about pricey SUVs.

I took this as a sign from the Great Spirit of Driving, Mike Valentine. The moment I got home from work, I found plenty of time to install V1. No more naked on Main or any other street.

Jack Tozzi
Feeding Hills, MA