The hero race car driver owns a mid life crisis, um, I mean project car. It’s a red 1987 Pontiac Fiero. He has owned it since the late 80’s and despite it’s crash test record, it’s a family favorite. The hero has done everything from install a complete new suspension, (his area of expertise), and design a new spoiler, to hop up the engine, considerably. Why is this such a family fav? Well, because it’s the family loaner, if you will, that goes really fast. In short, it’s fun. You don’t want to drive it everyday. It has a very stiff clutch and will wear on you if it is your main mode of transportation, like it was for me most of 1996. That sucked. But if your car is out of commission for a couple of days, the Ferio can be down right entertaining.
Which brings us to the little family contest that’s been on going for the past couple of years – Who has driven the car the fastest? Any time someone uses the car; we drive it fast, run back to each other and compare notes. Bragging rights are on the line, it’s all very important, you see. So with family honor at stake, it’s almost with glee that our cars to Devin’s shop and are replaced with the little red Fiero.
The current record holder is up for debate. I think I have it, because I was clocked doing 128 mph. Mine right? My brother, Devin, on the other hand thinks it’s his because he ‘claims’ to have done closer to 140 mph. In all honesty, he probably has. He’s a damn good driver and the daredevil in the family. (In THIS family that’s really saying something.) But I still have no intention of ever telling him that. He is a complete techno-phobe, so I think I’m safe in this medium.
This brings me to the side contest that this main contest creates – tickets. I win this one too, because, well, I’m female. The whole Rebstock clan is quite well known in traffic court, but I have the least amount of appearances. At one point, during college, my dad sat me down and explained there was going to be trouble if one more police officer showed up to take me out. (I still don’t see what the big deal was there.) It’s gotten a bit more tricky now that I’m older and married, but luckily, with the cherubs, the need to wiggle out of tickets has lessen too.
So you see, the competitiveness I have, I come by it completely honestly. It’s in the genes, along with the speeding tickets, too. But try explaining THAT to the nice officer.
posted by Erika at @ 2:55 pm | 8 Comments