As I embarked on my journey from shedding a tear or two at an awesome brother’s wedding, I found the apathy of an almost four-hour long drive begin to suffocate the vigor of my mental faculties. While the speeds will not be mentioned to avoid testifying against myself, it’s safe to say that a few cars (other than my beast of a Mazda MPV) were rather motivated on the road that afternoon. As I shift over to the right lane, a red Nissan with the most disgusting yellow lights zooms ahead and fills in my space as I realize that I actually moved into a slower lane and would not be able to pass.
It was on.
I refused to make eye contact with the driver of the red Nissan because I was entirely aware of how smug his or her face would’ve been (for the sake of convenience, I will refer to the driver as “him” from now on), and there would have been no restraining me once I saw that expression of jeering triumph. I quietly returned to the left lane behind the red Nissan, eyes shifting constantly to the right, staying vigilant for any opportunity to pass him and leave him in the dust.
Now, at this point, you might think oh, Ben, how can you be such a careless driver? Why don’t you just let it slide? If I hadn’t woken up at 4:45 AM, that might’ve been a valid rebuke. However, by this time, I was raring to get back to Santa Barbara and just sleep. Being sick, tired, and misty-eyed from a wedding is a weird, weird combination of emotions. Anyways, I needed this motivation to push me into the next gear, no pun intended, so that I could arrive back in SB as quickly as possible. I wasn’t doing it for vengeance’s sake, but I was doing it for vengeance’s sake.
Eventually along the way, I discovered a gap just big enough for me to squeeze to the right, and in front of the car ahead of the red Nissan. As soon as the occasion arose, I pounced on it, zipping through the right lane and cutting back into the left and then flooring it. I had assumed that the red Nissan would do the same, given his apparent penchant for being faster than his driving neighbors, but he did not. And so, I laughed my way to the bank as I watched him fall further and further behind.
I made pleasant conversation with Lukey, talking about a bunch of things, and our drive was pretty much free of the red Nissan. I had begun thinking that the red Nisan already exited the freeway, and that the evil had been overcome. However, about an hour away from Santa Barbara, what should appear in my rearview mirror other than the hideous yellow lights embedded in a red Nissan body? At this point, I had been on cruise control, sitting at a decent speed. But once that Nissan showed up, I sat straight up and pressed “Cancel” on the cruise control before gunning it again. I could practically feel the lust to cut ahead emanating from the Nissan, but I gave no opportunity for such a thing to occur and dusted him again, never letting my foot off the gas until we exited the freeway at Santa Barbara.
If you’ve seen my car, it’s a gold van. And what a gold van it is. Once it’s at 70 MPH, the sky’s the limit for the acceleration. All I could think in my head as I triumphantly dropped Lukey off at his place was, “Mazda, you the real MPV.”