Revenge of the Weedeater!
A few years ago I had a small VW diesel that had had a rough life prior to me taking it on, and had a bad turbo that made the same noise as a string trimmer. It was so underpowered that it couldn't get out of its own way and would decelerate going up the smallest hills even with the pedal to the floor. However, it also get phenomenal mileage.

So one Thanksgiving we were going to see my parents who were in South Carolina at the time. Like everyone else we were going south on I-95, which was running full traffic at decent speed. I had my daughter in my car, while the Lunatic Artist had my boys in her car. I was mostly staying in the slow lane, but the big lorries would sometimes go slowly enough for me to pass them. And so it was as I started passing one as I started up a hill.

I got about halfway along the lorry before I really was having problems- but I was still going only a few miles per hour below the speed limit and was still passing the truck, albeit slowly, so no biggie, I thought. Unfortunately there was a very large SUV behind me driven by a heavy man with a 70s mustache and steel rimmed glasses, whose large beefy face was turning red with frustration as he beat on the steering wheel. Apparently to him it was, in fact, a biggie. He was maybe five feet off of my back bumper, so I could see the veins popping out in his face clearly.

Well, I couldn't go to the right, because the truck was there. I could have slowed down and dropped behind the truck, I suppose- but then he would have burst a blood vessel. So I just stuck with it until I could get by the truck, which I did after maybe thirty seconds. Mr. Beefy Face kept snarling and cursing the entire way, and when I finally pulled into the slow lane he swerved toward me and leaned on the horn as he gave me the finger, then punched the gas hard and roared off down the road.

Unfortunately for Mr. Beefy Face his SUV was so big that he didn't realize that the car directly behind him was a fully marked state trooper. When he jammed the gas down, the flashing blue lights came on next to me and flew down the road after him.

We passed them a couple of miles later, and Mr. Beefy Face was almost purple. I imagine that he spent the rest of his Thanksgiving holiday drunk and cursing the little green VW.

We were still laughing about it two hours later when we arrived.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sun 20 Dec 2009, 19:11, 1 reply)

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Quality Dad and Daughter times. Grand...
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 15:02, closed)