July 11, 2005
I can out-stop a loaded F350 truck.
Don't worry, this is a good thing: I was behind the truck, not in front of it. Otherwise I'd be a lot more upset than I am now.
On Route 28 there's a spot where it drops from three lanes to two by making the right lane a turn-only lane. I was stuck in that lane, trying to find a hole in traffic to move over. The truck I'd been tailgating finally got far enough in front of the car in the next lane so I could fit into the space. And as I did, he moved over, too.
No problem, says I, I'll just give myself a little breathing room now that I'm where I need to be. Then the light turns yellow. Me and the truck are both past the point of no return; I'm ready to run the thing. He apparently wasn't.
He hits his brakes, I stand on mine. He comes to a stop completely beyond the stop-here line on the pavement; I come to rest about where the first person at the light should be. A couple seconds later the blue smoke caught up with me.
Who needs coffee to get you going in the morning when you've got adrenaline?
