After challenged cruising at 75-80mph for most of the trip, getting into town was a relief for me. We slowed to 45mph and settled in behind moderate traffic. This was Thursday, the day before the big day so I wasn’t expecting LA-type traffic jams. We hit one or two traffic lights before I watched Mike coast under a one that flipped from green. That left me pushing the yellow. I decided at this point, with no directions to the hotel, I would give a little — ever so slightly mind you — extra juice to make the light before it turned red. Sure I could have used my cell phone but at this point I was kicking it old school in my head.
I watched the light above me to make sure it was still yellow. Sweet, made it. Oh shit, everybody dead stopped in front of me. Mike was swinging to the far right on the shoulder to avoid the Ferrari F430 in front of him. I stood on the brakes at started aiming for the ditch. Tire smoke, squealing with heart in the throat, I watched Mike move forward (twice) to give me room to stop. I missed his bumper by that much. The blond in the Ferrari couldn’t stop laughing. Did you see the old man your driving with? I don’t think she heard me.
Mike and I didn’t even call each other. We knew we just avoided a horrific end to a drive most aptly described by the Pantera I caught from behind. As I looked in his rear window, he was simply circling his finger around the side of his head. We may be crazy but at least we didn’t buy a Pantera.