Interesting driving stories

[AMoore]

There is a series of postings on another thread regarding past ill advised driving experiences on the road.  I think it is a great topic, but out of place.  Accordingly, I invite others to share their ill advised driving experiences below.

[CarreraS]

OK, late for a client meeting in Allentown, I'm in my E350 flying up the Northeast Extension.  I was going about 120-125, very little traffic, and Iwas making great time.  Up ahead I saw a white pick-up truck with a cap on it lumbering along in the left lane.  I started to pass him in the right lane and out of the corner of my eye I saw the logo on the side of his truck:

"Pennsylvania State Police K-9 Unit". 

Immediately, I slammed on the brakes (smooth move, right), only to observe the trooper slow down even more and pull in behind me.  S--t!!!  Immediately, the trooper put on his flashing lights located in his front grill and I pulled over.  By the time he reached the car, I already had my license, registration, insurance and my sweet, sweet ever-so-treasured PBA Courtesy Card that was given to me by a good friend who is a police officer in NJ.  Trust me, that PBA card has gotten me out of many jams.

The trooper was NOT happy.  He read me the riot act for my irresponsible behavior, told me I was endangering his life and everyone else on the turnpike, etc.  When I handed him all of my credentials, he looked at the PBA card and incredulously said, "You think this is going to get you out of a ticket when you were going at least 90 MPH."

That's when it struck me...he had NO idea how fast I was really going because his vehicle was not equipped with a timing or radar device.  He was a K-9 Trooper transporting his dog.  Now I knew he couldn't possibly give me a ticket.

After the obligatory 20 minute wait while he was in his car talking on his radio, he finally came back to my passenger window.  "Today is your lucky day", he said.  "Slow down and stop acting like a kid."  He handed back all of my credentials but the PBA courtesy card was missing.

"Officer, my courtesy card...it's not here", I stuttered.  "Oh, sorry, here you go", said the trooper as he sprinkled the remaining confetti shaped remnants of my beloved PBA courtesy card on my passenger seat.  As he walked away, I realized that some punishments are worse than getting a ticket! 

 

 

[Brian Minkin]

Drove to the Hershey Swap in a caravan. Going out we where sort of law abiding.  Going home however was a different story.  A group of RTR guys (about 8 cars) all left together and if memory serves me right the group where all 911's except me in a 944 and one member who will remain unnamed in a BMW.  We are cruising down the turnpike like the tail of a kite at 100+ passing and pulling back into the right lane until the next pass. We go around a corner and there is a cop shooting radar. Everyone is hard on the brakes and the cop pulls out and pulls over the last car which happened to be the BMW. The price I paid for this fun ride was that the hockey puck clutch on the 944 disintegrated from the rapid deceleration so by the time I got home the car needed a tow truck to go to Holberts and have a new clutch installed.

[JimWirt]

My father would let me drive his pick-up truck with piggy back camper to Community College. One day there was frost on the windows and I made a little viewing hole and was on my way. A few miles down the road there was a old lady driving in the middle of the road so I had to move over . Way over! All of a sudden I was looking up in the sky and the front of the truck bounced up and down. I just kept driving. A mile or two down the road I realized the camper was gone! Back tracked and there was the camper with patrol officer in the middle of the street. It had hit a low large tree branch. Had to have wrecked camper towed back to house to go through everything and salvage what was good. Father returned from work. Had one look and retreated back to house with out saying anything. A few weeks before I had wrecked his other car. Couldn't believe that there would be no punishment for this.

[Porshagod]

It was a Friday night in the summer of '76, several friends and I went over to Front St. in S. Philly (THE place to go for street drags in the '70's & '80's) from Haddonfield, NJ to "flex our car muscles". A friend and I were in my Diamond blue '57 Chevy that had a worked 396 ci/550 HP engine, M22 "Rock Crusher" tranny and a 12-bolt Posi rear w/5:13 gears. I had just discovered that afternoon that I had a broken RR leaf spring, but decided to go to Front St. that night anyway just to "watch".  

My friends somehow convinced me that, having had the fastest car (11.22 @ 118 mph) among my friends at the time, it was up to me to "represent" our group. After watching for a while, and after much peer pressure, I somehow found myself in line to race. I finally get to the front of the line and I'm ready to go. I'm in the right lane. Oh, did I mention that my car was a "sleeper"? From all outside appearances, with the exception of the "cheater" slicks, my car appeared to be stock, down to the mufflers and steel wheels with hubcaps. After opening the exhaust cutouts and a few quick blips of the throttle at the starting line, the "jig was up". The starter waved through the car that was originally next to me, and the car behind him, until an orange '70 Hemi Cuda with black "billboard" stripes pulls up next to me. Someone from the crowd gathered at the starting line leans into my window and informs me that Cuda boy has never lost a race.

The starter points to me, I nod, then points to the other guy, he nods. The starter raises both arms, waits, then drops them. At his first twitch, I dump the clutch at 4000 rpm. 1st gear my wheels are spinning, hit 2nd gear, still spinning. Luckily the guy next to me was smoking the tires worse. As I hit 3rd, my car suddenly "hooked up" big time. As it did, I started to fishtail from side to side wildly, due to my broken leaf spring that until that moment had forgotten about. If I had not been in the lead at that moment by 1 car length and 6 inches, I would have taken us both out! With my balls being bigger that my brain at the time, I kept my foot in it. Luckily, the car straightened out, Cuda boy next to me backed out of it for a second, and I was gone! Victory was mine!

After turning around, I slowly headed back to the starting line to bask in my glory as the new "King" of Front St. It was at that moment Philly's Finest decided to spoil my coronation. Flashing lights, sirens, cop cars from every direction. Everyone started to scatter, so we decided it was time to head back over the Walt Whitman bridge to the safety of Jersey. It had turned out to be a good night, no tickets, I didn't need a tow home, and I won!

Still to this day, if I'm back in my hometown and run into one of my old buddies, the first words out of their mouths after "Hello" are, "Hey, remember that night at Front Street?..."  Ah, it's good to be the King!