Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Right Lane Porsche
Some things are wrong. And irritating. Although the list is long and varied, the pique of the day for Fred Colon is a slow moving right lane Porsche 911. According to Freddie any 911 riding right on a multilane highway is a travesty of motoring justice. Why drive a Porsche like its's an econobox? Why?
Perhaps it's sour grapes. Colon drives a 1998 Honda Civic with a non zippy 1.5 liter gas miser of an engine. What with four kids and wife and a girl, the sales star of Advance Auto of Mercerville, can only dream of getting enough scratch together to go Teutonic. But even if Fred can't afford something, Fred can still have an opinion about it, right?
So out on 295 moving south this morning the gold toothed parts pusher spotted a black 911 coupe, a mid 80's model, clipping along at 65 in the right lane. Nobody but the old guy in the Porsche was speed limit legal. The duffer looked short, like his chest was up on the wheel. Puny short arms held the wheel in the 10 and 2 position, BOTH HANDS on the wheel. The upside down bathtub looking racer was clean, original owner clean. And the wheels looked mint, too.
Shorty was probably listening to NPR. Yeah, Fred was quick to assess. For whatever reason Colon lost it as he sped by Jack-O. The height challenged Porsche owner had no idea that he had been named Jack-O nor did he have any idea that the beat up Civic was going to run him into the guard rail just before Exit 63.
So, zoom zoom at 80, the Civic takes over the Porsche. Fred glares over and he yells "what the f***". The mad man slaps his brakes, lets the codger move up to him and then from his middle lane position Fred crowds Jack-O. He then encroaches the right lane and foot by foot pushes the Porshe onto the shoulder. Once there, he jerks the Honda to the right forcing the sports car into the rail. The passenger side paint scrapes off like dead sunburned skin. The old guy slows the Porsche but not before the damage is done.
Colon speeds off after running Jack-O off the road, hops off at the Exit and he is gone. Jack-O, who has really wet his pants,
sits stunned in his baby. Later, when he thinks about it, the erstwhile internist will have no clue as to what happened. Later, he will chalk the whole thing up to a drunk driver. Not later, not ever, will Jack-O know that his Willie Loman like driving pissed Fred Colon off.
So it goes...