I really wasn't looking for a fight, I swear. All I was doing was sitting at a stop light. But these two kids pulled up next to me in a jacked-up 88 Firebird, glass-packs rumbling, hats on backwards. I don't think of myself as being old yet, but when I was a kid the only people who wore their hats backwards didn't have an IQ high enough to know better. In my generation, you were supposed to choose a role model a little higher up the food chain! I looked over at them and chuckled. The driver caught me, and yelled "You think that yuppy trash is fast?" I wish he hadn't used "The Y-Word". Okay, I drive an '88 M5 with gold BBS 3-piece rims. So the mistake was understandable to the uninitiated. But it says right on my license plate frame, 'THERE WERE BMW'S LONG BEFORE THERE WERE YUPPIES". Also, the "Friends Don't Let Friends Early Apex" magnetic bumper sticker and the "M AZING" tags all say something about the car. And shame on anyone challenging me to a race without noticing I'm wearing a red 4-point harness. On the street.

The Firebird sat at a rakish angle, and the glass packs rumbled menacingly. The kid blipped it twice directly in my open window. The rear tires were on the order of L50 15's, and hung about 4 inches outside the edges of the fenders. I figured he must be a charter member of the local Optimist Club. It was obvious from the distinct groove in the tire that it and the fenders were still arguing about who owned the airspace between them, but judging from the burnt paint on the fender lips, it was a draw. So I said to the kid, "You got a 350 in that thang?", drawing out the last syllable as long as I could without them realizing I was doing it on purpose. "It's a strong 5 liter," he replied. "Uh-oh", I said, "Now you're in trouble", and ran the window up before he could respond. Suddenly my windows were rattling. Something sounding vaguely like music was assaulting my car. I couldn't make out the words, but the BOOM shagga lagga BOOM was unmistakable. I already had Don Dorsey's Bach Busters playing, so I selected Toccata and Fugue in D Minor which is a pipe organ masterpiece. There is something about an isobaric sub woofer that just loves extended low bass. I wound the amp up and it fly. The ladies in the car behind the Pontiac had been watching and they just laughed and laughed. By now the kid is red-faced and yelling something, but I was already feeling for the engagement point of the clutch...

When the light changed I left hard just in case I missed something on the Pontiac. I had to lift completely off the gas in second gear to let the guy catch up, then went back to full throttle, leaving him mit authority. Halfway through third gear the Valentine One went BEEEEEEP, and went silent. I looked down the road, and spotted the cop headed this way with about three cars between us. I lifted off and shifted to fourth gear. The kids went by me wide open, at about 110 mph. As soon as they went by, I eased the brakes on to settle the nose, then STOOD on the middle pedal. I was comfortably at 60 mph when the kids got a face full of instant-on Ka Stalker radar. In the cop's haste to get turned around, the police car about T-boned me coming across the median! I swerved onto the shoulder and shook my fist as he went by with every light on the car blazing. The cop mouthed "Sorry", and continued.