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I was driving down from the hills yesterday when I hit my first stop sign. All of the momentum behind me wouldn’t let me come to that complete stop and there was a fat, flat topped man on my left with a police man’s heart just waiting to witness my act of abhorrence.
He was in a small red car and I could see his eyes following me well before the octagonal buzz kill. I made up my mind, or rather my will made the decision for me that I was not going to play into this guy’s circumstantiated day dreams of being Ponch’s lesser known partner, Jon Baker.
It. was. on.
I faked like I was going to going to slow down, all the while examining his head movement in my periphery. He was following me like a traffic cop and I’m sure that in all of his faculties, he was perched high atop his gleaming chrome stallion, finger on the siren switch.
Slowing to the stop line, I gunned it five feet before, all the while my whole spirit dancing inside of me and working its way out to a smile and shortness of breath. With my head high and the hills still with me, I heard a quick “beep,” looked in my mirror and saw his bird flying high in victory.
It’s good to know that we both won that day and even though he’ll never know it, I am thankful to him. Not only for so genially giving me the opportunity to spite him, but for fulfilling all of my deepest expectations and desires when I had thought, if only for a moment, that I had gotten away scott free.