bimmerd00d
12-31-2004, 11:26 PM
Silver 2003 M3 SMGII.
Have you ever been in traffic where everyone is cruisin' along fairly tight packed at 5 over the limit and then you get one chump that comes along and does something like 50 lane changes trying to work their way through the pack and after cutting off 15 cars ends up exactly seven seconds ahead of you? I guess that seven seconds is pretty important (and that was a hell of a run-on-sentence)...
So...
On the way to work I exit off of 635 onto Miller. I'm in the usual pack of cars and here comes that chump. This time it turns out to be a thirty-something girl with an eighty's-something hair style in a two-thousand-something red camaro, and she is doing just that - trying to push her way to the front so she can get her seven seconds back.
She's almost annoying me.
I'm going with the flow in the left lane and a small smile from fate causes every car in front of me to jump in the left turn lane when we arrive at the red light at Plano road. I get to go to the front. I didn't even have to cut anyone off. Its the simple things in life that make one's day.
The day is almost good.
But aparently not for everyone...
Who's beside me to the right? Super Bitch in her red camaro who made at least 8 cars brake check in the last 3 blocks so she could earn that spot (its amazing how you can deduce if someone is a bitch or not with a moment's glance).
We're awaiting traffic and the last vehicle to do the left-turn into our path is an 18 wheeler who chooses Super Bitch's lane to climb the long gradual hill towards the next light at Sanden. As we await the next 10 seconds or so, my spidey sense tingles as I know what's going to happen. For some reason, I unconciously reach over and flick sport mode on and turn the clutch speed up 2 clicks. Super Bitch is going to try and out accelerate M3 Man so she can cut over and not be stuck behind the 18 wheeler at the next light.
I almost feel sorry for her.
The light goes green and sure enough, she romps on it. I romp on it too and as I grab the right paddle clicking into second I pull ahead by a fender. We quickly consume the distance to the 18 wheeler and she has to punch the brake and she swerves in behind me.
Its almost too funny.
For a moment I contemplate doing a ricer's hazard-light-victory-flash at her, but I doubt she'd understand it. I look in the rear view and almost laugh out loud as I see Super Bitch going psycho! She's pounding her fists on the steering wheel. Her head is thrashing about while she yells what can only be an epitath of four letter words. I figure someone needs to switch to decaf and think out loud "I pity the first fool that talks to her at work today!".
I almost feel bad but I can't stop giggling.
But it gets better! The light ahead at Sanden goes yellow. I flash my brake lights to make sure she's paying attention and we slow to a stop at the now red light. She has found herself boxed in behind me with the 18 wheeler beside us to the right. Somehow appropriately I find myself sitting there with Nazareth's Hair of the Dog (that old "now your messin' with a son of a bitch" song) playing on the Ipod while I watch the show in my rear view. The epitath has reached a crescendo.
I almost have tears in my eyes I'm laughing so hard.
How mean do I want to be? Maybe if I push a little further her head will actually explode? So the light goes green. We're on an uphill slope so the 18 wheeler starts in low and jumps off to a 3 mph first gear start. Hmmm how will I ever keep up? He shifts into second at 6 mph and I match his pace. I can feel the back of my skull catching on fire as a mushroom cloud forms behind me.
BLIP BLIPPPPP! My Valentine-1 radar detector goes off and does a Ka alert straight ahead. Hell no. Hell YES! An evil plan forms in an instant.
I know EXACTLY where this cop is going to be sitting as he pulled me over from the same spot a few weeks earlier (tucked back on Distribution Lane zapping cars cresting the hill we're about to crest).
Almost too good to be true.
I accelerate quickly deciding its time to let the squirrel out of the cage. I zip up to the 40mph limit and just as I get there Super Bitch decides the gap is big enough between me and the 18 wheeler (now doing 14 mph in 7th gear). She slices between us and guns it and goes flying by my all-too-innocent M3 with her foot on the floor. All I can see is red glow beneath a blonde mess of 80's hair standing on end as I glance over.
I almost pee my pants in anticipation.
When we crest the hill, she has to be going 70+ in that 40 zone I am doing exactly 40 in - with my V1 at full lock.
I almost felt guilty.
I don't know her exact speed but I'm pretty sure the Dallas Constable that pulled her over 200 yards up the road knows exactly what it is.
I almost stop and wish her and the fine officer a good morning.
Have you ever been in traffic where everyone is cruisin' along fairly tight packed at 5 over the limit and then you get one chump that comes along and does something like 50 lane changes trying to work their way through the pack and after cutting off 15 cars ends up exactly seven seconds ahead of you? I guess that seven seconds is pretty important (and that was a hell of a run-on-sentence)...
So...
On the way to work I exit off of 635 onto Miller. I'm in the usual pack of cars and here comes that chump. This time it turns out to be a thirty-something girl with an eighty's-something hair style in a two-thousand-something red camaro, and she is doing just that - trying to push her way to the front so she can get her seven seconds back.
She's almost annoying me.
I'm going with the flow in the left lane and a small smile from fate causes every car in front of me to jump in the left turn lane when we arrive at the red light at Plano road. I get to go to the front. I didn't even have to cut anyone off. Its the simple things in life that make one's day.
The day is almost good.
But aparently not for everyone...
Who's beside me to the right? Super Bitch in her red camaro who made at least 8 cars brake check in the last 3 blocks so she could earn that spot (its amazing how you can deduce if someone is a bitch or not with a moment's glance).
We're awaiting traffic and the last vehicle to do the left-turn into our path is an 18 wheeler who chooses Super Bitch's lane to climb the long gradual hill towards the next light at Sanden. As we await the next 10 seconds or so, my spidey sense tingles as I know what's going to happen. For some reason, I unconciously reach over and flick sport mode on and turn the clutch speed up 2 clicks. Super Bitch is going to try and out accelerate M3 Man so she can cut over and not be stuck behind the 18 wheeler at the next light.
I almost feel sorry for her.
The light goes green and sure enough, she romps on it. I romp on it too and as I grab the right paddle clicking into second I pull ahead by a fender. We quickly consume the distance to the 18 wheeler and she has to punch the brake and she swerves in behind me.
Its almost too funny.
For a moment I contemplate doing a ricer's hazard-light-victory-flash at her, but I doubt she'd understand it. I look in the rear view and almost laugh out loud as I see Super Bitch going psycho! She's pounding her fists on the steering wheel. Her head is thrashing about while she yells what can only be an epitath of four letter words. I figure someone needs to switch to decaf and think out loud "I pity the first fool that talks to her at work today!".
I almost feel bad but I can't stop giggling.
But it gets better! The light ahead at Sanden goes yellow. I flash my brake lights to make sure she's paying attention and we slow to a stop at the now red light. She has found herself boxed in behind me with the 18 wheeler beside us to the right. Somehow appropriately I find myself sitting there with Nazareth's Hair of the Dog (that old "now your messin' with a son of a bitch" song) playing on the Ipod while I watch the show in my rear view. The epitath has reached a crescendo.
I almost have tears in my eyes I'm laughing so hard.
How mean do I want to be? Maybe if I push a little further her head will actually explode? So the light goes green. We're on an uphill slope so the 18 wheeler starts in low and jumps off to a 3 mph first gear start. Hmmm how will I ever keep up? He shifts into second at 6 mph and I match his pace. I can feel the back of my skull catching on fire as a mushroom cloud forms behind me.
BLIP BLIPPPPP! My Valentine-1 radar detector goes off and does a Ka alert straight ahead. Hell no. Hell YES! An evil plan forms in an instant.
I know EXACTLY where this cop is going to be sitting as he pulled me over from the same spot a few weeks earlier (tucked back on Distribution Lane zapping cars cresting the hill we're about to crest).
Almost too good to be true.
I accelerate quickly deciding its time to let the squirrel out of the cage. I zip up to the 40mph limit and just as I get there Super Bitch decides the gap is big enough between me and the 18 wheeler (now doing 14 mph in 7th gear). She slices between us and guns it and goes flying by my all-too-innocent M3 with her foot on the floor. All I can see is red glow beneath a blonde mess of 80's hair standing on end as I glance over.
I almost pee my pants in anticipation.
When we crest the hill, she has to be going 70+ in that 40 zone I am doing exactly 40 in - with my V1 at full lock.
I almost felt guilty.
I don't know her exact speed but I'm pretty sure the Dallas Constable that pulled her over 200 yards up the road knows exactly what it is.
I almost stop and wish her and the fine officer a good morning.