So I'm floating blissfully down one of my favorite roads yesterday afternoon, 70 degrees, beautiful fall day, trees starting to turn....all of a sudden there is this caddie deville on my tail. I can barely see the little bald head sticking up, a few sprigs of combed over hair. I'm thinking grandpa has somewhere to go so I move over and let him come around. To my amazement, the old fart comes dead even with me with that look in his (one good) eye....if grandma knew she'd knock those teeth clean out yer head...we got us a race. I think I was in fourth gear and he actually got the jump on me. Damn caddie was smokin'...I should have let him go, lord knows at 90 there are few pleasures left. However, in a totally primal response, I drop a gear and nail it. Yes sir, reeled me in a northstar.....all ten thousand pounds of it....so wrong on so many levels...
