We spent the weekend in San Jose. There we stayed at a friend's place and partook in various amounts of geekery; such as watching animated Batman movies and going to a Dagorhir event. If you do not know what Dagorhir is, your best bet is to click that link because I'm not really sure how to describe it to you without making you think we're a bunch of masochists.
To be honest it's like medieval boot camp. If you are not properly trained you're going to break or tear something and it will be painful. It's going to be painful anyway, so you really don't want to break something on top of the plethora of bruises you're going to be walking away with.
There, I tried my best.
While that was all good fun and entertainment, what I really want to talk to you about is our trip down there. The two hour car ride from Sacramento to San Jose. "That sounds boring to hear about, Inari," you're probably saying to yourself and under normal circumstances you'd be right. Usually it's two hours of chit chat and Queen. Not this time.
Well, it still took two hours and there was still chit chat and Queen, but there was a happening as well. A happening! So we're cruising along in the fast lane doing 80, nothing wrong with that. The guy ahead of us is also doing 80 and we're a little less than two car lengths behind him. There's really no justification for going over 80 mph unless you're trying to escape carnivorous dinosaurs or something. I mean, even if someone's dying in the backseat, that's what ambulances are there for. Driving around at 100 mph with no sirens or lights is only going to kill both of you.
Then. There is this dude in a sports car all up on our ass. Like, so close that we couldn't even see his headlights. Not our fault, Mr. Man. We cannot drive through the car ahead of us, or the car beside us for that matter. 80 should be plenty fast for the fast lane.
Aaron lets off the gas a little; not enough to cause a break screeching freak-out or anything, just enough to send the signal, "Yo, back off our ass. Man." This works for about 2.5 seconds before the guys whips out from behind us, probably without even checking, and speeds along beside us. Ironically, at this point in time, he's not quite keeping up with us... which is all the more reason why he should have been content doing 80 mph at a safe distance behind us.
He stays along side us for enough time to see, reasonably, that there was nothing we could have done. He cut-off the car beside us like a maniac to get to where he was now, and there was still a car in front of us, keeping us at an even 80. For one reason or another, the car in front of us decides to gtfo though and as soon as he does, the dude in the sports car zips in front of us and SLAMS on his breaks. We slam on our breaks so that we don't die in a fire (action movies have taught me that all cars are bombs just waiting for an impact so they can explode) and then the guy peels out at like 100 mph into the distance.
Out of principle we speed along after him a bit just to prove that we can go fast too! But then there is flashing lights. You've got to be kidding me, I think. I notice however that the flashing lights are beside us -- not behind us, and we're immediately cut-off by a cop. Who then proceeds to pull the reckless sports car dude over. America, $%^@ yeah! I've never wanted to thumbs-up a police officer so very much before.
I guess now I can no longer say, "There's never a cop around when you need one." Because holy crap, there totally was.
No comments:
Post a Comment