Baby, You're Much Too Fast, Yes You Are

Y'know, I think I'm a pretty cool chick, in my own odd way, and that I'm pretty open to people doing their own thing, but this morning I totally showed my age and crochety-ness.

After dropping off my girl-child at school, I was driving...doodeedoo...down the neighborhood streets close to the school, close to the local university, and was stopped at a stop light when I saw IT. And it was beautiful.

Shiny, red, sleek, big-ass front end, tiny back end, 2-door, 2-seater, racecar-lookin', sexysexysexy. The driver was a college boy (how did he afford this?!), and he zoomed around the corner and went from, I shit you not, zero to 50 in 2 seconds. I suddenly felt like I was in high school again riding around with my boyfriend in his new/old car, going waaay too fast on country roads, high and drunk, waaaaaaaaaayy too fast, wheeeeeeee!!!!! I'm young and free and can't be stopped, muthafuckas!

Then the old lady-me punched the girl-me in the jaw and said, "Wake up! He's gonna kill someone in that thing!" And I realized the old biddy was right. I silently wished for karma to catch up to Mr. Speed-Demon and proceeded to the gas station to fetch a sick-sweet toffee coffee (yeah, yeah, I know, but my recent labwork said my blood pressure and glucose levels and cholesterol were all too low, so I figure I need to honor it with sugar and more sugar).

There was a cop car outside the gas station. Hmmm. Interesting. I could bust the red car guy. Karma had intervened!!! I went inside, got my coffee, chatted briefly with my favorite cashier, then caught the attention of the cop. All cops around here are really nice, I mean, seriously. Even when they've pulled me over (not many times, just broken headlight stuff and that one fucking speeding ticket), they've been the very model of decorum and politeness. Anyway, I informed Mr. Blonde Policeman that there was a very cool Saab speeding on the streets that morning, a cool car nonetheless, a red sporty car that we'd all love to have, but he was still going waaaaaaay too fast (wheeeeee!). Mr. Blonde's eyes sort of lit up and his lips parted in a boyish grin, and he said, "Thanks, I'll keep an eye out for it."

So I left, feeling all smug and superior and fuck-you-Mr.Indy500. Doing my civic duty to protect my children and all their friends and college students and old folks.

Yeah, cool car though, damn that paint job was good, fantastic body shape, speeding away from me with no sputter or nuthin', speeding away with that damn car logo, that logo with circles, that...fuck...FUCK!!! That was no Saab, that was an Audi!!! I told the cop it was a Saab! FUCK! Does that mean I should call the police station and ask to speak to the cute cop who was buying coffee at the Speedway at 8 a.m. this morning and who got a tip from an obviously crazy lady about a red Saab? And that this lady obviously needs stronger eyewear because she totally messed up the make of the car?

Nah.

They'll find it eventually. I'm sure the cops have enough information to go on.

And maybe they'll find a nice red Saab to bust along with it.