Picture it: You're leaving your last appointment of the day, and you are 300 miles away from your home, and the woman you love. Sure you can just settle for the ETA your GPS gives you, or, you could press down on the gas and try to shave some time off that number.
So there I was, flying down I-81, doing well above 80, trying to get home to Inky before the sun went down. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a New York State police cruiser that was shifting into high gear. What happened next is a bit of a blur, and if pressed on it in a court of law, this is how I would have to testify:
My eyes glanced from my rear view mirror to my speedometer to the road ahead, where I saw that I was about 500 yards away from the next exit, which was beyond a bend to the right. My body went into action, as if I were some kind of sleeper agent who had just been triggered a la Jason Bourne. Rather than slowing down, or hitting the breaks, I sped up and crossed from the left lane to the right, and once around the bend I took the exit ramp.
At the bottome of the ramp, I watched as the cruiser flew south on 81. Then, out of no where he slammed on his breaks and crossed the median to get on the north bound lane. Once he did that, I proceeded to take the ramp back on to southbound 81. My hands were shaking a bit as I took the next exit, and asked Karen (my GPS) how to get to Binghamton without getting back on 81. She sent me on rt 11, and I by the time I made it, my hands had stopped shaking. Sometimes it's good to be the Greazy!
(* Five Bucks to the person who can name the movie the title of this post comes from)