"When you participate in clandestine activities such as street racing, you always know that sooner or later you are going to get into trouble. Sometimes that trouble comes when you least expect it. If you are lining up in the middle of the highway for a race at eleven o'clock at night, you always fear that the Highway Patrol may pop over the next hill, or the Deputy Sheriff might be waiting in the darkness just up the road. But when you're just on your way to school, minding your own business, you don't expect to get into any trouble. Such was the situation one morning as I slowed the “59” Galaxie for the stop sign where our dirt road meets the paved highway. I spotted a car approaching, still some distance down the highway, so I turned onto the pavement and started accelerating toward town. When I had almost reached the 70 MPH speed limit, the other car came around me at a considerably higher speed. As the car moved back over in front of me, the thought crossed my mind; “I can't let that Plymouth pass me like that”. I hit the gas, kicked it down into passing gear, and went around the unsuspecting motorist at about 90 MPH. As I continued on toward town, now only a couple miles down the road, I noticed in the rear view mirror that he also had accelerated and seemed to be catching me. Now this was a race. I got the “59” Galaxie up to about 105 or so, and managed to stay a little distance ahead of him. As we approached town, the guy was not letting off. I figured he must be pretty mad and was trying to catch me. I maintained as high a speed as I could until reaching the first few side streets of town, then braked hard and turned down a side street. He followed, so I did my best movie chase scene impression, and managed to loose him after a few turns. Satisfied that the adventure was over, I proceeded to the school parking lot, then went in to my first class. My first class that semester was driver's ed., and before the class got started, I sat in the back of the class recounting my adventure to my buddies. We all had a good laugh, and class got underway. About a half hour into the period, there came a knock on the door and the teacher answered. He turned and looked straight at me and said someone wanted to speak to me in the hall. As I left the room and stepped into the hall, I met the local Deputy Sheriff, and he was not smiling. “This can't be good”, I thought, “not my lucky day”. I got a chewing out that I would not soon forget. It seems that the motorist that I had been racing with was a State Highway Patrol supervisor in his personal car. He had taken down my license number and description of my car, and turned it into the local Sheriff's office. The deputy knew exactly who to come looking for. (We had met on previous occasions). If the state official had not been in a hurry to get to a meeting, he would have stayed around to see me prosecuted, the deputy informed me. This was not a fun day, but for some reason I didn't get a ticket out of that deal. Looking back, maybe it was my lucky day after all."
Anyone wanting to check out more can find it at: Grab Some Gears
