Go, Speed Racer!
Dec. 11th, 2005 04:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cyranoSo usually people driving on 101 on the weekends are asstards anyway--every second you spend driving where you're going is another second of your weekend frittered away on staying alive--but this weekend seemed especially asstardic.
Today in particular, there was a shiny new Mercedes with the custom plates (PARKER1) and no working turn signals, leaping into any space vaguely Mercedes-sized and going ninety-five. You know, the usual.
And I found myself shouting "Go Parker, Go!" enthusiastically every time he squeezed himself into a new lane; Parker is a nice patrician name, but I found a soft Tennessee twang drifting into my voice as I repeated it.
And that was where it began.
There, in my car, I was recreating the Dukes of Hazzard except with Parker and his clan--Parker and Parker Associates (or Parker and Parker Ass, as we call 'em 'round here) always running from trouble with Boss Hogg from the SEC because their grandpappy was running questionable stock investments and soft political contributions. They had a fine ride, the shiny champagne-colored General Schwarzkopf, and all manner of mad 1337 drivin' skillz.
Now folks, them Parker boys was in more trouble than a tick hound on the Sunol Grade with a mocha latte in one hand and a briefcase full of bankruptcy paperwork in the other.
Just the good ol' boys, drivin' in their new car.
They're talkin' on the phone,
makin' risky venture loans,
....uuuuuh. That's about as far as I can get right now.
I need to hire Senatory Hatty to finish the theme song up.
Today in particular, there was a shiny new Mercedes with the custom plates (PARKER1) and no working turn signals, leaping into any space vaguely Mercedes-sized and going ninety-five. You know, the usual.
And I found myself shouting "Go Parker, Go!" enthusiastically every time he squeezed himself into a new lane; Parker is a nice patrician name, but I found a soft Tennessee twang drifting into my voice as I repeated it.
And that was where it began.
There, in my car, I was recreating the Dukes of Hazzard except with Parker and his clan--Parker and Parker Associates (or Parker and Parker Ass, as we call 'em 'round here) always running from trouble with Boss Hogg from the SEC because their grandpappy was running questionable stock investments and soft political contributions. They had a fine ride, the shiny champagne-colored General Schwarzkopf, and all manner of mad 1337 drivin' skillz.
Now folks, them Parker boys was in more trouble than a tick hound on the Sunol Grade with a mocha latte in one hand and a briefcase full of bankruptcy paperwork in the other.
Just the good ol' boys, drivin' in their new car.
They're talkin' on the phone,
makin' risky venture loans,
....uuuuuh. That's about as far as I can get right now.
I need to hire Senatory Hatty to finish the theme song up.