gerryvz said:
Dedicated to & in memory of my Parents. May they R.I.P. Dad (2004) who hotwired his first Mercedes 66 years ago and drove it West to freedom. Mom (2011) who knew a good Mercedes when she sat in one, and looked like a million bucks in doing so…_________________________________________________
Lob an die Gefallenen (Praise to the Fallen)
I ambushed an old pal last night & flamed him out on the local Parkway. I was waiting on a red light at a main street intersection @ 10PM when I see the profile of this beautiful black 1986 Porsche 911 Carrera-variant pass thru...
I scream to myself, "JIMMER!, oh I'm getting YOU if I catch you at the next red light!" :twisted:
Sure enough, he got hung up at the next red light leading onto the Parkway. There was some Stoners’ crappy choke & puke fume-spewing cargo van between us so Jimmer never saw me sneaking up until 2 blocks later. I had my in-city radar setting on full volume. As I tailed along, that feeling came on again...
The tightening of the gut. The flush of adrenaline coursing thru the veins leading to the electrical buzzing in the arms…the anticipation. The waiting.
Just after passing the City Police station, I smoothly slipped out from behind the stinky Stoners’ smokescreen. At a car length’s distance behind, Jimmer’s eyes caught my wraith-like materialization in his driver’s side mirror. He noticeably started increasing speed on this 30mph thoroughfare.
I figured he was on his way home after having a couple mugs of suds with the Boys
, so I would take full advantage of that. He’d be apprehensive to mix it up much in a street fight. Piloting a 2-doored attention getter, he couldn't temp a fateful run-in with the Police. He has an alpha-dog personality. I knew this self-imposed shackling would be a pain worse than death for him! With only two street blocks left before our final turn off towards home, I made my move. My radar went dead quiet…I punched it! & FLAMED his ass leading into our final turn off. As I rocketed by, I could see his face reflected from his side-view mirror; flushed red with eyes the size of saucers. Teeth grit, he started to make a go of it, then heeled-over with pained anguish.
He caught up moments later as I waited for the final red light to change. He was Pissed! No Porsche pole position tonight. From here-on, the road would be a single lane no passing zone. All he saw was the ass end of a Big Black Benz as I casually exited off to home base.
Mission Accomplished.
Jimmer has a very competitive nature. I can just see him steaming all the way home :x , acting short with loved ones & sleeping uncomfortably all night. Imagine…the thought of being passed so unceremoniously by some stodgy 4-door brick on wheels!
*PS: I have been waiting to ambush this guy for a long time, but it always seems we’re going in opposite directions on the roadways. He’s a real good fella I used to work with years ago. Recently taking an early retirement, he set about finally getting another car of his dreams (although he regrets ever having gotten rid of his 1967 Vette). We rarely see each other, but are good for several pints when we do. He enjoys a few hours out on the weekend for beer & a good college ball game. I used his profile to my utter advantage this evening!
Relying solely on brute power is so shortsightedly one dimensional, especially if taking on a 2-door Porsche with only a 4-door “Porsche”!
I’m sure he doesn't even know it’s me in the 500E...yet.
