Because I drive the road daily I know that the speed limit is a strict 25 mph and that police officers haunt the bottom of the hill. It's one of those tricky places: downhill, blind curve, tall bushes. Approaching the apex of the curve I ease onto the brake pedal and am startled by a sharp horn blast from the truck nestled snugly mere feet from my bumper. I do not, however, speed up as the driver wishes. Instead I maintain a constant 29 miles per hour. Reaching a boiling point, the driver of the truck hastily transfers his truck into the left-side turn-only lane and attempts to pass me. This, unfortunately, does not sit well with me. Rather than maintaining my complete calm and rate of speed, I hurriedly lay down the hammer. Also unfortunately, I drive a 4-cylinder Kia. The angry truck easily passed me and sped away into the distance.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear but the lights of vengeance flashing in my rear-view mirror. The officer of the law sped past my paltry Kia in pursuit of the traffic offender.
Passing the truck now stopped on the shoulder in front of the flashing lights, only one word comes to my lips: