Thursday, May 10, 2007
I'm sitting at a stop light listening to the radio when I hear this engine revving over and over. I glance to my right and there is this guy staring at me like a sixteen-year-old boy out on a Friday night in his dad's car. Only this guy was in his mid-fifties at the very least. With a salt and pepper beard, he looked like a college professor. He revved the engine again and grinned at me. Now I'm not much of a car guy, so while I realize he's driving some kind of silver sports car, I didn't pick up on the fact it was a Porsche, until the light turned green and he took off squealing his tires. He made it all of about three blocks before we hit another red light.
Again, the same routine only this time I smiled and shook my head at his pathetic attempt to relive some bygone dream of his. This time a car turned right off the side street just as the light turned green so I'm out in front while he is stuck behind traffic. Now keep in mind I was only doing about thirty five or forty miles an hour. Not trying to race this character, I was just trying to get home to get on the computer and do some work.
The idiot catches me in half a mile or so, pulls up beside me, grins like a shit-eating monkey, and shoots off like rocket, obviously proud to have outran me and my 1997 Chevy Blazer with his brand new, sticker-still-on-the-window, sleek, silver Porsche.
That's when it occurs to me. People who buy these kind of cars don't tint the windows because then the whole world wouldn't be able to look at them and whisper, Oooh look at the guy. What they don't realize is our next thought ... Wonder what he's compensating for?