absolutangel64

I was driving home today and found myself involved in an apparent street race with another car.

Everytime I sped up, this other car sped up. And when I slowed down, the other car slowed down.

I thought it a coincedence that this other car’s driving habits were like mine, but it became more obvious when I sped up to catch up with the flow of traffic and the other driver quickly passed me. He might have laughed and given his passenger a high-five–but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was just annoyed at the fact that this loser couldn’t tell I wasn’t interested in the rivaly.

My car isn’t a race car. It’s a 95 Honda Civic that been keyed on the side and has a big dent in the front (a Ford Ranger backed up into me, and spare tire left an indelible impression—bastard). I hang a dried orchid lei and my graduation tassel from the rearview, and when I accelerate it sounds as if I’m in an airplane instead of a compact car.

No spoilers, no rims, no riceification.

So what’s the deal with other cars thinking that I’m racing material? If you beat me in a race, that’s about as meaningless a win as it would be for someone to win a beauty pagent when the opponent is a dried ass carcass.

These people who build their egos on empty racing wins against cars that are simply “Point A to Point B” vehicles must have some kind of self-esteem issues stemming from a childhood of molestation. That, or they’re really desperately trying to make the most out their Tercels.