Saturday morning. Heading toward the hangar. Getting onto the freeway. There are two lanes, both of which have a stop sign at the bottom of a short downhill ramp to allow for cross traffic into and out of a residential neighborhood.
I’m driving the 18-year old “mom-mobile mini van” with 193,000 miles on it. But it’s been pretty well taken care of, has the big six-cylinder engine, and can get up and go when I really need it to.
Heading onto the ramp I see there are six or seven cars all lined up in the left lane with zero cars in the right lane. I have no idea why, but that’s the way they’ve decided to line up.
I see that the last car in line in the left lane is a Tesla. The S-model. The “mom-mobile mini van” for Mrs. Jetson. The acceleration and speed available should be reserved for drag racers, not mini vans. I love the look, I love the style, I would love to own one. But I’ve never actually SEEN one really floor it and let fly, just heard of it.
I can see that there’s no cross traffic coming.
My mission is clear.
I’m watching the Tesla and the car in front of it, first of all, to make sure that neither of them is going to think, “Why am I sitting in this lane as car #5 or #6 when the other lane’s open?” This thought could be immediately followed by a quick flick to the right, directly into my lane, probably just about the same time that I’m trying to occupy those spacetime coordinates.
More to the point, my brain is telling me that the timing is juuuuuuust right. If they all stay in their lane and take turns at the stop sign and if there’s still no cross traffic to wait for, the Tesla should be pulling up to the line and stopping in the left lane right about the exact same instant that I’m pulling into the right lane beside him and doing the exact same thing.
I’m thinking, “He’s driving lazy, otherwise he would have pulled into the empty lane.” I’m thinking, “He’s probably on his phone or distracted by the radio or something.”
I’m thinking, “I’m going to smoke his ass and show him what a REAL ‘mom-mobile mini van’ can do!!”
And the timing worked perfectly!
I’ll never know what it was that tipped him off to my intentions. Maybe I was visibly trembling with excitement and he subliminally caught sight of it out of his side mirror. Or maybe he just chose that point to pay attention to his driving and see that it was his turn at the stop sign.
Whatever the cause, at the precise same moment that he did his “touch and go” at the white line next to the stop sign, I did mine about eighteen inches to his right. I stomped on the gas to show him…
…and he was freakin’ GOOOOOONE and probably pushing 80 mph before I had a chance for my jaw to drop.
Seeing is believing.
I want me one of them!