Not so Fast, Not so Furious

      The following is 100% true, which makes it... well, really pathetic.
      It was Friday night, nearly midnight, and my fiance's flight was coming in. I had just left to go pick her up. She called me about 5 minutes into my trip, informing me that her plane landed 15 minutes earlier than scheduled. I was 20 minutes away, and I needed to get there fast.
      Sure enough, I didn't even take one of my two fast cars; the 400 horsepower Mustang or the 300 horsepower sleeper Taurus. No, I brought the "cute," bug eyed, little-train-that-could 200-horsepower-if-it's-lucky-going-downhill Audi A4. It hits 0-60 in... I don't know. I usually fall asleep by then. But power be damned, I was going to push the little turd to get me there in a respectable time.
      Fortunately for me, if you're a cheap skate (and trust me, I am) and don't want to take the toll road to the airport, you can take this long, 2-lane country road in the middle of nowhere that will lead you there. I took this route, and got inadvertently tangled up in the most pathetic underground street racing organization known to man.
       It started when I noticed that traffic was pretty thick for being midnight. It even came to a dead stop, and no one was moving. I was looking over the steering wheel, trying to figure out why the hell we were stopped... an accident maybe? The police had stopped someone? I saw nothing wrong, but suddenly, everyone took off--very quickly.
        Maybe I was just naive, maybe I was (am) stupid, maybe I was just in a hurry and wasn't thinking, but it didn't occur to me that they were all street racing each other. Nor did it occur to me that I was about to join them. Thinking only about getting to the airport on time, I hammered the gas, flew past some beat up Chevy Silverado belching black smoke, and caught up to this Honda Civic that was absolutely screaming as it was falling behind a very beat up old 80's Mustang.
       I zipped over to the left lane (fuck it, I thought. If these guys are gonna be going fast, then I'll do it too. I'm in a hurry) and passed the Civic. I was coming up hard on the Mustang, and as I passed it, they gave me the biggest, bug eyed expression I've ever seen. Bigger than the stupid bug-eyed front end of my turdmobile.
        I looked down and realized I was going 80 in a 65. Oops. So I coasted over to the right lane and slowed down a hair. Just then the Mustang crept up beside me, with some young guy in a crooked baseball cap rolling down his window and motioning for me to do the same. I looked behind me in the rear view mirror and saw 2 Civics, the Silverado, and what looked to be some kind of Miata.
      ...And I then realized that not only had I just been zipping in and out of a pack of very pathetic street racers, but I was at the front of the line.
        The guy in the junky old Mustang asked me if I was part of the 'crew.' I told him no. He invited me to come race with them, but I told them no, I was in a hurry to get to the airport. He told me my ride was 'sick,' and that they met up in this area at midnight on Friday nights if I ever wanted to join them.
       They turned off to some other dark back road, and I kept going on my way, shaking my head as I wondered if these clowns knew they got bested by a mostly stock 4-banger turbo Audi.
        Ultimately, I only got to the airport 5 minutes late. I was so excited to see my fiance, and she was excited to see me... now that I was... KING OF THE STREET RACERS.

The following is a very, very dramatic rendition:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Game over.

Stay classy, friends,

Bryan

Mood: Confident

Beer: Not while I'm driving my speed demon

Shower: I'm gonna be showering in money when I go back next week in my Mustang and hustle those kids