Patience, My Ass

I was driving the 'Stang home from school tonight and on the way out, a super-pokey Toyota in front of me drove me to distraction. With any normal driver in it, we both would have made the traffic light, but Mr. Pokey must have been doing the mileage computations on his Blackberry, and slowed even before the light turned yellow -- and naturally, he stopped right away, leaving me stuck behind on an uphill incline (which I hate, though the 'Stang handles it much better than a certain rental Opel Kadet I drove in Germany right after I learned to drive a stick).

The Goddess of Acceleration was whispering sweet blessings in my ear, but I'd just managed to pass the Toy-Yokum knowing there was a reduction in the speed limit ahead. That's when I heard the whiny roar that screamed "Idjit on a Crotch-Rocket," so I shifted my attention on every mirror on the Scarlet Beauty and held my peace. Sure enough, Mr. Idjit came screaming ahead like an immolated banshee, immediately prompting the unmarked police car behind me to light up, siren-up, and chase him down in what was the shortest police chase I've ever witnessed. I saved the Goddess' Blessing for the I-10 on-ramp, where I let the wind blow through my hair... until a big stack-up ahead with multiple police cars told me to take the off-ramp and detour through town... and the DMAFB Shoppette, where I re-provisioned booze and cigars and made my way home via the slow route.

Now for a long night of homework.