How to annoy a Lamborghini driver
03-22-2010, 07:05 PM
#1
JK Freak
Thread Starter
How to annoy a Lamborghini driver
This past Saturday, my wife and I had spent a couple of hours on the beach. It was a very nice day, 74 degrees and sunny. We decided to go to our favorite restaurant for an early dinner. It's a bit pricy, but worth the money.
On the way there, I found myself behind a black Lamborghini Diablo 6.0VT. This is an all wheel drive supercar, capable of 205 mph. Spectacular machine.
It wasn't capable of much this day... Owing to the fact that the Diablo has less ground clearance than Al Roker's ass, every time the driver encountered even the slightest bit of broken tarmac, he would brake to nearly 5 mph and tip-toe over it. We had a severe winter this year, and many roads have the pavement breaking up as a result of the freeze/thaw cycles and lots of road salt.
I found myself muttering under my breath.. "Geez guy, why are you driving that thing on these beat up roads?"
I glanced at my wife. "A $200,000 car isn't worth much when you can't drive it at more than a crawl."
My wife pulled her digital camera from her purse and snapped a photo of the Diablo through the Jeep's windshield.
After about two miles of this annoying speed up, slow down, speed up and slow down again, we finally came to a safe place where I could pass the Lamborghini. I began by flashing my lights, and then pulled out to pass. Briefly, his ego ran away with his reasoning skills. He goosed the Diablo and squirted ahead, for about 20 yards. Up ahead, a sizable hunk of pavement was missing, creating about a 2" ledge on both sides it. On the verge of peeing his Dockers, he leans on the brakes... I complete the pass and pull in front of him. I look in the mirror and he has his middle finger pressed up against the windshield.
"I guess that fellow is unhappy."
My wife looks at me wondering what I mean.
"He just flipped me off."
"Ignore him, please."
I do.
We arrive at the restaurant, and I park in the side lot. I grab my sport jacket from the back seat, toss my Navy ball cap on the center console and we walk in. We get seated by a front window, and I order a Guinness Draught and my wife asks for a Coke, no ice. I switch to my reading glasses to read the menu (a hazard of aging). After about five minutes of small talk, I see that same black Lambo pull up in front of the restaurant.
"Hey, look who just arrived."
"Is that the same car?", she asked, looking.
"Sure is."
The scissor doors open and out steps a 30 something guy, wearing khaki Dockers, and a button-down collar, long sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. His passenger is an attractive mid to late twenties young lady, well dressed. They enter the restaurant and are seated at a table not six feet from ours.
I lean over towards them.
"Excuse me, is that your Diablo?"
"Yes, it is."
"Beautiful car", I said. "It takes some guts to drive it on these chewed-up roads."
"Oh man", he says, "pot holes are everywhere. But, today was just too perfect to leave it in the garage."
We chat for a couple of minutes about the Lambo. Clearly, this car is very important to him.
Just when I'm thinking the conversation was over, he says, "On the way here, some clown in a Jeep was flashing his lights at me. Then he tries to pass me. I thought about playing with him a little, but the road was awful."
As he's talking, the waiter steps up to our table.
"Was it a dark red Jeep?", I asked.
"Yes."
"Did the license plate say 'WIDEWING'?"
"Yes, it did."
I smile, "well, I guess that makes me your 'clown'!"
He simply stares at me.
I turn to the waiter. "Please bring these folks another of whatever they are drinking, on my bill."
The guy is still speechless (I found out later that his name was Devon, yep, I know).
"I figure that squares us.. Well, almost. I still owe you one of these." I hold up my middle finger.
His girlfriend nearly sprays her Zinfandel all over the table, trying to stifle a laugh.
The fellow sits back in his chair thinking. "That was really smooth. You knew that was me when I parked, didn't you?"
"Indeed."
He shakes his head, grinning at being snookered so completely.
I held up my glass. "To your continued prosperity and good health."
"The same to you", he replies.
We talked for while, until our dinner arrived. He was actually a nice guy. It bit touchy about his Diablo, but what the hell, when you spend that kind of money, you may tend to get defensive. Especially when a Wrangler passes you and there is nothing you can do about it.
Before I left, I suggested a different route home for the Diablo. One where the highway dept had patched the potholes the previous week.
My regards,
Widewing
On the way there, I found myself behind a black Lamborghini Diablo 6.0VT. This is an all wheel drive supercar, capable of 205 mph. Spectacular machine.
It wasn't capable of much this day... Owing to the fact that the Diablo has less ground clearance than Al Roker's ass, every time the driver encountered even the slightest bit of broken tarmac, he would brake to nearly 5 mph and tip-toe over it. We had a severe winter this year, and many roads have the pavement breaking up as a result of the freeze/thaw cycles and lots of road salt.
I found myself muttering under my breath.. "Geez guy, why are you driving that thing on these beat up roads?"
I glanced at my wife. "A $200,000 car isn't worth much when you can't drive it at more than a crawl."
My wife pulled her digital camera from her purse and snapped a photo of the Diablo through the Jeep's windshield.
After about two miles of this annoying speed up, slow down, speed up and slow down again, we finally came to a safe place where I could pass the Lamborghini. I began by flashing my lights, and then pulled out to pass. Briefly, his ego ran away with his reasoning skills. He goosed the Diablo and squirted ahead, for about 20 yards. Up ahead, a sizable hunk of pavement was missing, creating about a 2" ledge on both sides it. On the verge of peeing his Dockers, he leans on the brakes... I complete the pass and pull in front of him. I look in the mirror and he has his middle finger pressed up against the windshield.
"I guess that fellow is unhappy."
My wife looks at me wondering what I mean.
"He just flipped me off."
"Ignore him, please."
I do.
We arrive at the restaurant, and I park in the side lot. I grab my sport jacket from the back seat, toss my Navy ball cap on the center console and we walk in. We get seated by a front window, and I order a Guinness Draught and my wife asks for a Coke, no ice. I switch to my reading glasses to read the menu (a hazard of aging). After about five minutes of small talk, I see that same black Lambo pull up in front of the restaurant.
"Hey, look who just arrived."
"Is that the same car?", she asked, looking.
"Sure is."
The scissor doors open and out steps a 30 something guy, wearing khaki Dockers, and a button-down collar, long sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. His passenger is an attractive mid to late twenties young lady, well dressed. They enter the restaurant and are seated at a table not six feet from ours.
I lean over towards them.
"Excuse me, is that your Diablo?"
"Yes, it is."
"Beautiful car", I said. "It takes some guts to drive it on these chewed-up roads."
"Oh man", he says, "pot holes are everywhere. But, today was just too perfect to leave it in the garage."
We chat for a couple of minutes about the Lambo. Clearly, this car is very important to him.
Just when I'm thinking the conversation was over, he says, "On the way here, some clown in a Jeep was flashing his lights at me. Then he tries to pass me. I thought about playing with him a little, but the road was awful."
As he's talking, the waiter steps up to our table.
"Was it a dark red Jeep?", I asked.
"Yes."
"Did the license plate say 'WIDEWING'?"
"Yes, it did."
I smile, "well, I guess that makes me your 'clown'!"
He simply stares at me.
I turn to the waiter. "Please bring these folks another of whatever they are drinking, on my bill."
The guy is still speechless (I found out later that his name was Devon, yep, I know).
"I figure that squares us.. Well, almost. I still owe you one of these." I hold up my middle finger.
His girlfriend nearly sprays her Zinfandel all over the table, trying to stifle a laugh.
The fellow sits back in his chair thinking. "That was really smooth. You knew that was me when I parked, didn't you?"
"Indeed."
He shakes his head, grinning at being snookered so completely.
I held up my glass. "To your continued prosperity and good health."
"The same to you", he replies.
We talked for while, until our dinner arrived. He was actually a nice guy. It bit touchy about his Diablo, but what the hell, when you spend that kind of money, you may tend to get defensive. Especially when a Wrangler passes you and there is nothing you can do about it.
Before I left, I suggested a different route home for the Diablo. One where the highway dept had patched the potholes the previous week.
My regards,
Widewing
Last edited by Widewing; 03-22-2010 at 07:09 PM.
03-22-2010, 07:09 PM
#2
Nice! What a deusche, he couldn't maintain the speed. Get the hell out of the way. But I guess you can't expect much from people. I certainly would have understood had i been in my 'Cuda (nowhere near the cost of the Lambo), but my headers sure scrape on everything. I'd move aside...
Guy is still an idiot, nice work on your end though!
Guy is still an idiot, nice work on your end though!
03-22-2010, 07:11 PM
#3
JK Junkie
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His personalized plates have inflated ego written all over them. He still came off looking like a sh!tbag by giving you the finger in a Diablo, could've been smoother...
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