I found this on another forum linked to Neons.org…
"Sometimes, things happen so fast we don’t have time to feel afraid or concerned. We simply act on instinct and hope for the best. Tonight I watched what could only be described as the “Moron of the Year” award.
The clock on my radio ticks off another minute as I cruise down Loop 820 heading west. It’s very late at night and the only things on the road tonight are some weary travelers, drunken idiots and rice boys looking for easy scores while the cop traffic is low. I yawn broadly as I try to remain focused on the road and keep an eye out for my exit. My speedometer reads 65 as I adjust the baseball cap on my head and drum my fingers on the steering wheel. My new Bowling for Soup CD changes to track 10 and I turn it up slightly.
I glance in my driver’s side mirror as a set of headlights crest a hill just behind me and get large rather quickly in the left lane. I hold my ground in the middle lane as a late '90s Honda Civic blows past me doing at least 95 or better. My car buffets in the car’s wake just as the brake lights come on and white smoke erupts from the front tires. The Civic weaves as the back end loosens and the driver cuts across two lanes and slows down. I glance over as I pass the car, both of us doing roughly 65 now.
The car is a mess, primer splotches dotting the car’s surface like measles and a large aluminum wing hastily bolted to the trunk lid. The wheels are covered in the fake plastic spinner wheel covers and the tenting on the windows is shoddy at best. I catch the faces of two teenage males in the front seats as we pass under a street light. The orange glow of the light illuminates their smiling faces as they point and laugh at my car.
I shake my head as I face forward again and keep my pace. I just got my car working properly after a starter issue and I’m too tired to try and deal with two rice boy punks with an attitude. I glance in my passenger mirror to see the car bobbing back and forth in the right lane, the driver cutting very close to my rear bumper each time he ducks and weaves in the lane. I add a little bit of throttle, pushing my car up to about 69 or so.
The Civic dives behind me without a signal and the brights immediately come on, the white light hitting me directly in the eyes as it reflects off my mirror. I wince slightly as I slap my rearview mirror to one side. My night vision slowly begins to come back as I look over my shoulder at the Civic as it rides my bumper with the brights flashing on and off.
“All right,” I mutter to myself. “Let’s play a little.”
I push the clutch to the floor and wrap my hand around the gearshift. The knob is cool to the touch as I pull it smoothly back into fourth and blip the throttle. The Demon listens to my command and bucks slightly as the revs begin to climb, the car pushing itself past 70 and up to 75. I readjust my mirror in time to see the Civic lurch slightly and begin to keep pace. In no time, he’s back on my bumper and the brights are on again. I can see both the driver and his passenger laughing loudly at my “pitiful” attempt to get away.
I growl lowly and push the throttle pedal a bit more, the car roaring as the speedometer crests 80. I dare not take this car past this point, as the tires have some good miles on them and they’re not rated for faster than this. My exit’s coming and I’m not getting a ticket because of these idiots. I glance again and see they’re, again, right behind me with the brights still on.
“All right, you win,” I mutter as I flip my turn signal and shift to the left lane. Immediately, the bight light fills the cabin once more as the rice boys follow me.
“What the hell…” I ask myself as I change lanes back into the center lane. Again the Civic follows me. The windows are down and middle fingers are up. My exit’s less than a mile away and I know I can last until I get there and these clowns can have their fun elsewhere down the highway.
Something in the road ahead catches my eye, and I shift the mirror away from my face as I squint to see the dark blob just barely out of the orange aura of the street lamps. It’s less than 300 yards and closing very quickly at 80 MPH.
Suddenly, I can make out the shape of a large sofa looking straight back at me. It’s sitting in the center lane upside down with the back facing me. I feel my fingers tense as I quickly figure out what to do. I don’t want to eat this couch, as there’s enough cosmetic damage on the Demon as it is. I shake my head as the couch looms less than 50 yards away now.
I let it close just a bit more before I jerk the wheel hard to the right. The left front tire squeals as it compresses into the pavement and the car jumps like a high-speed skier into the right lane. The back stays tight as I right the wheel and the couch blows past the left headlight with a mere foot to spare.
All I can hear now is the loud screech of tires followed by a tremendous WHUMP.
I jerk my head to the left to see a shower of padding and wood explode outward, illuminated in the headlights of the Civic as it completely obliterates the old sofa and sends the remains skittering across the pavement. The Civic weaves around all three lanes as it slows down with one of the headlights extinguished. I look forward again to see my exit approaching and quickly get off the freeway. The rest of the trip was uneventful.
I don’t know where that couch came from but it all happened so quickly I was more concerned with my own safety than that of those two clowns in the Civic. I can only imagine the looks on their faces as the Neon they’re chasing is suddenly replaced with a couch at 80 MPH. Thankfully, it wasn’t a fridge or some other large appliance that someone didn’t secure properly.
One of those late night adventures you don’t read about in the paper."
