Three of my favorite street "encounters"
1.One of my fondest memories of my 1973 Bavaria 3.0 was the time a redneck in a 2nd. Generation Z28 tried to keep up with me on a favorite driving road. The road consisted of several tight corners linked by short straights. Z Dude was terrified of lateral G forces and slowed waaaay down for the corners to the extent that his @75 hp advantage would not allow him to catch up to me on the straights. Now, there was a long straight right after a particularly tight corner, and this straight "featured" two huge frost heaves about 1000 feet past the corner. I had fitted the Bav with the European sport springs and HD Bilsteins- and I knew from experience that the heaves wouldn't unsettle the old girl- even at 85+ mph. Well, I hammered through that last corner at better than 70 while Bowtie Guy slowed to under 40. I was just touching 85 when I blasted over the frost heaves, with the Z28 closing fast. I wish I could have seen Chevy Boy's expression when he hit(literally) frost heave #1. The front crossmember/oil pan sent up a tremendous shower of sparks. The impact with the second frost heave was even more spectacular. Last I saw he was slowing to a near crawl as I drove away. I laughed all the way home. Evolution in action is a wonderful thing...
2. A Jag XJS convertible cuts in front of my Club Sport as I'm taking an entrance ramp on to I-64. The driver is a textbook example of Mid-Life Crisis Man: comb-over hair, gold chains, and wrap-around sun glasses. His companion is a flashy blonde trophy wife/girlfriend/bimbo. The guy simply cannot stand for me to pass him, so the faster I go, the faster he goes. I settle in to a cruising speed of 85, trusting in my V1 and the fact that the Jag is serving as a "rabbit" in front of me. After several miles I notice the Jag is starting to smoke a bit. I speed up so-of course-the Jag speeds up. More smoke. I catch a whiff of antifreeze. This is just too good, so I turn up the wick a bit more; I can't believe the idiot hasn't noticed any problem. Oh well; I continue to push him up to about 95. At that point, the old Jag has had enough; clouds of steam suddenly billow out from under and around the hood. The sled finally pulls over to the emergency strip. My Club Sport now has a film of coolant covering the windshield, but it was worth it...
3. I was sitting at a light in my POS Mazdaspeed 3 when a kid in a decrepit [censored]-canned mid '90s Civic Si pulled up beside me revving his engine. On the green I left at just about 1/3 throttle. The Honda "surged" past, but on the 3-4 shift Civic punk grabbed second. The poor motor screamed, the front wheels screeched, and the idiot driver nearly cracked his empty head on the windshield. My son laughed until he cried.
