Vroom!

When I think of a shiny red convertible being pulled over by the police, I imagine an Italian stud zooming around in some loud, sleek sports car while blaring classic rock. Arlington County is sort of dorky, though, and apparently our law enforcement officers are, too. This morning one of them selected Daphne's boxy and awkward form, my yellowing mohawked head, and some bitchin' bluegrass to summon over to the side of the road.

"Why did you pull me over?"
"We'll get to that. Do you have your license and registration?"

I didn't have a clue why he had pulled me over. While I waited for the officer to run my background check, I sat in the car and rain began to fall. Sadly, I had to close Daphne's top for the first time since I drove her off the lot. I found a map of Virginia and passed the time by considering possible routes for next summer's walk.

"M'am, do you know what the speed limit is on this road?"
"50?"
"It's 45. You were going 55. I'll only give you a warning this time, but you need to stop zooming down the road like you were doing."

Zooming. That's me. 55 in a 45 on Route 50 during rush hour. Whoo boy. Lunacy. A little bit of Turbo, and I'm an Italian stallion.