I was driving up 183 in Leander this morning when I heard a siren approaching from the rear. I can hear them a long way off because I drive a convertible so there’s not much sound-proofing. I was sitting at a light in the right hand lane and the fire rig went to go around the stopped traffic in the turn lane. I was at the head of the line and the light was green so I pulled across the intersection to give cars room to make room for the truck. I eased over to the shoulder and the guy behind me took it as his chance to pass me, cutting off the firetruck in the process. You know the type, white trash, driving a souped-up ’90 Camaro, wide tires on the rear, hood scoop, and all. I decided that he wasn’t gonna pass me or cutoff the firetruck to do so. I pulled out halfway into the lane he was in and hit the brakes. I guess there’s something about brake lights higher than his hood suddenly appearing that caused him to rethink his actions and let the truck pass. I caught up to the firetruck a mile or so down the road after it appeared they got called off of their run and were sitting at a light. I got a wink and a thumbs up from the fireman in the passenger seat.
I kinda hoped Camaro Boy would hit me. He’d have plowed far enough under my Defender to rip that silly hood scoop right off his piece-of-shit Camaro and rest my bumper firmly on his windshield. I, of course, was told that I was #1 for my troubles.
: Sunny Afternoon from the album “Fruitcakes” by Jimmy Buffett