This summer has been fairly quiet for me, as far as cruising and racing goes. I have only made a couple of passes through the local haunts and found little if any action worthy of note. But as I said, I haven't been out there that much. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I've got more to loose now, but it just isn't all that much fun for me anymore. However, my drives to work have gotten pretty interesting over the last week.
Let me get this out right now, I'm the asshole. I like to be first. When I line up a stop light, I don't like to let anyone pull ahead of me. Normally, this poses no problem and takes very little effort. I have done this with cops behind me and not even gotten their attention. After all when the light turns green on a three lane street, someone has to be first. Last week, however, I found some of my own kind. It just so happens that they like to be first, too.
My first contest was with a newer 4x4 Ford Ranger. I will admit here that at the first light we shared, he got the jump on me. I wasn't looking for him to go like he did. So with his door at my front bumper, I just paced him to the next light. I knew that there would be at least three more lights to go from assuming he didn't turn. At light number two, I go a little harder when the light turns green. This time I keep even with him, giving it about half throttle and shifting about 4,000 rpm. I was setting him up for the fall. At the third light he took the bait and got all over it on green. So I did too. I went as hard as I had too (but not as hard I could) to keep my bumper in front his. He shut down around 60 mph, so I did too.
At the forth light, I kept the pressure on by creeping the line and revving my engine while throwing glances his way. He sneered at me, revved right back. Scanning for cops, I caught a glimpse of white just pulling up to the next light about a quarter mile down the road. Sure enough, one of our finest was getting into perfect position to witness our fourth encounter. Desperate to call it off, I beeped my horn and tried to get the guy to look ahead and notice the cop. I pointed ahead as he looked down at me and then made a quick "five-o" hand sign. He didn't understand and didn't see the cop. The light turned and he gave it all it had. I just let him run. There was little I could do but drive like all the other commuters and save my own ass. From that light, I took second but still won because a half mile down the road, little Ford Ranger was sitting in front of a squad car. Even though I didn't get a ticket (or even pulled over) I was wondering how much the driver said or if he just took his speeding ticket and went on on his way. I swear there was a cop eyeballing me on my way to work the next day, but I was probably just being paranoid.
Two days later, again on my way to work, I got to play with the big boys. First up was a contractor for the local phone company in a white Ford F250. He was driving by my house when I pulled out of the driveway. It so happened that he was going the same direction at each of the seven turns I make each morning to get to the main road that leads me to work some ten miles later. At every turn, he would stomp on the gas and go WOT, the exhaust just barking. This really annoyed me, cause through all this we were in a residential neighborhood. My neighborhood. I know it is rather hypocritical of me to preach, bitch and then race, but you've got to choose your spots. The whole time he was doing this, I was falling behind him, just hoping to get out on the main drag with him. Luck was on my side and he got caught at the stoplight where I turn left every morning. His left blinker was on.
I toyed with him, much as I did with the Ranger. Just trying to feel out how hard he was willing to go. As you would expect, despite his best efforts, it wouldn't be enough. At our third light we both went. Hard. I actually broke traction shifting into second and really put the hurt on him. By the time I finished second, I was far enough ahead of him that I proved my point that he shouldn't have been driving like that. Ok, so I didn't prove my point. I did exactly what he was doing. But I was faster. He turned right at the next light, so no more fun was to be had, or so I thought.
About a mile down the road from where he turned is the last light I have on my way to work. As I approached, there was a lone Chevy Tahoe Z71 approaching the light in my lane and an open lane to the right. So I switched to the right lane. So did he. Now we were both in the right with no one in the left. So back to the left I go. I was about 100 feet behind him, so there was no danger. But I thought it odd that he would do that. Maybe he had to turn right ahead. Still twitchy from my earlier races with the F250, I was ready. The light turned and we both started out just fast enough to get the jump on each other if the other one wasn't racing. We both realized the other was racing, and stomped on it. First, second and half way thought third I went. The whole time I was walking away. Once I hit 80, I shut down and slowed to 60 and set the cruise. Still in the left lane. I watch him switch back into the left lane in my mirrors. What the hell? Now he wants in the left lane? He just switched into the right lane for no reason and now he is moving back? Whatever, I had to get to work.
As I sat at 60mph I watched him gain on me pretty quickly. I let him get close enough so that I couldn't se his plates in my rear view. Then he turned his brights on. Ok, I'll bite. Lets play a game, it's called "Catch the Saturn". Third gear is my friend. I loved it to redline. Now fourth is my friend too, and I loved it till 120 mph. I shifted into fifth and watched him bounce off his fuel cutoff. After what seemed like forever, he moved into the right lane again and turned right. I don't know what crawled up his ass, but he was a prime example of why I don't race much anymore.
Three races on two week days, what was in store for my weekend? A bachelor party! My friend
Jay is getting married, so we went up to Wisconsin Dells. Played mini-golf (put-put for those outside of Wisconsin), got rained on by some nasty storms and then hit the bars and clubs. I had to work on Sunday, so I wasn't drinking anything but RedBull. But, all I could think about as we were walking up and down the main drag, was some of the cars I would love to race. I saw a ton of sport compact cars that would be fun to run. But alas I was resigned to my pedestrian status. After the bars closed, I was set to drive home to Janesville. So at just after 2 am I was headed south on I-90/94. The other guys were going golfing the next day and they had a room so my drive home was solo. There were almost no cars on the road and I was hyper and exhausted at the same time. The drive home is about an hour and a half, and I was doing my best to stay awake. It figures I would run into the one asshole on the road.
I had the cruise set at 75 mph (in a 65 mph zone). I was in a hurry, but didn't want any attention turned my way. The highway is three lanes wide, and I am sitting in the middle. I have passed some cars and been passed by others. Pulling up slowly on a Dodge minivan, I hit the blinker and move into the left lane. I pass him. I am just about to move back to the middle lane when he start catching me. I let him go on by, then move back into the middle lane. Still doing 75 mph. After a mile or so, he slows down again. I go left again. He speeds up again and I pull in behind him, again. Wash, rinse & repeat. This fucker is pissing me off. But given my lesson from two days ago with the Tahoe, I stay cool, calm and collected. We kept up our little dance for fifteen minutes. Finally, I caught a little traffic to help me out. There were a couple of semis in the right lane, doing about 70. Some truck pulling a boat in the middle lane doing about the same. Coming up in the left lane was another pair of semis doing about 75. Pinned between the semis on the right, the boat in the middle I had him cornered. Still doing 75 mph I moved to the left lane and stayed there right next to him while the semis behind me caught up. Now that he is hemmed in nicely I bump up the speed to near 80 just put some distance between us. Three miles later he finally clears the pack, but by that time he is just two points of light in the distance. And there he stayed until I pulled off the highway. As I was in the exit lane, he passed by honking and flashing his brights. This was a full 35 miles from where we started. I am surprised that he didn't follow me into town.
Well, that’s my story, and I'm sticking to it.
07-25-2005, 11:09 AM
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