“Get off the road, you moron!” I screamed at the car in front of me. The stupid driver was going sixty in the left hand lane! Who does that? The roll of toilet paper moved around on the floor of the passenger seat as I sped up to get into the right hand lane.
Cutting off the van behind me, I pounded on the gas to get my sedan up the hill. It struggled to get up to speed, and I could see the driver in the mirror behind me throwing obscene hand gestures my way in frustration.
As I reached the top of the hill, I let off the break and allowed the car to reach eighty before going back to the left hand lane, cutting off the tiny rice burner who was in front of me, and cruised all the way to the next hill, allowing the vehicle to drop below seventy before pressing on the gas again.
Apparently, the car behind me got pissed off, and tail gated me until I went faster. The van was right next to us, so he had no lane to turn into to pass me.
Ha! That’s what he gets for going sixty in the left lane!
We hit another hill, and I floored it, speeding up. As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I could see the tiny little rice burner become a white speck in the road.
“Can’t keep up, can you? Ha!” I let out a hearty laugh. “Take that! You’re nothing but a child’s toy!” I roared, staring at the car.
Not paying attention to my speed, it reached ninety as I got to the top of the hill, and began climbing numbers on the way down. My rpm was heading past five, and I could already feel my twelve year old car jutting forward as it passed back and forth between gears.
Trying to slow down my beast of a vehicle, I suddenly noticed that I was quickly heading down faster than the blue car in front of me was driving.
I slammed on the break, my car spun, and I panicked, letting go of the wheel.
My car did not slow down in time, and it bumped the bumper of the car in front of me. That car speed up, and I saw the scratches I had left it. No biggy, just a fender bender. My insurance would cover that. Hey, that’s what we had them for, right?
When I noticed the antenna sticking up from the top of the car, was when the undercover cop flipped on his lights and sirens. I cursed under my breath as we both moved over to the side. Putting my car in park, I heard the gears grinding again, and ignored it, turning the car off.
I rolled down my window, the old fashioned way. The instant my arm got to the point to where it would not work anymore, I reached the end. And the police officer reached my driver’s door.
Standing about six foot two, the undercover looked over his sun glances at me, and rested his hands in his jean pockets. “License and registration, please, ma’am.”