After two days of mind-blurring classes, I drove home this morning from Dallas, aka the big D. There were an abnormally large number of police officers chatting with motorists on the side of the road. Those flashing lights sure are bright at 6:00 am. As I drove past at 90 mph, I wondered idly what the speed limit on the I-45 is. I would have stopped to ask the officers, but they seemed otherwise engaged.
I encountered a Tahoe that was driving in a manner completely unbecoming to a vehicle with an engine that size. I tried to signal the driver to let him know that his automobile had far larger than a V4, but he seemed not to notice me at first. Trapped as I was with semi trucks to my right and a cement barrier to my left, I was forced to a speed much slower than is tolerable for a 256-mile drive.
Therefore, I moved my seat back as far as possible while still maintaining my foot on the gas pedal. (Distancing myself from the steering wheel seemed the responsible thing to do prior to attempting a maneuver that could result in air bag deployment.)
In a move rarely seen attempted by civilian drivers, I was able to bypass the bizarre traffic jam. There was only a little fish-tailing, and I did enjoy the riding on two wheels part. Most importantly, I made it home in record time.
Excuse me while I answer the phone. It's probably Nascar calling.