Swatting Flies

Right after we got our ’06 Mustang GT in late November, the Oregon weather had turned “Terminal Grey,” as I call it. That daily, nonstop cloud cover complete with at the very least, drizzle but usually rain. The roads were wet, constantly. This continued on for days, weeks, months.

Come February, I was scheduled to work 1-10. But that day, the clouds had cleared early, the sun broke through and it was just one of those late winter days that gives you hope that Spring followed by Summer would actually return, someday. Since the sun had been out for several hours the roads were dry. First time in what seemed like 4 straight months of Terminal Grey.

The radio was on, the window was down and I pulled out of the driveway and headed off for work with a smile on my face.

As I made my way to McLoughlin Blvd. I had every intention of driving conservatively to keep the gas mileage from taking a serious dive. As I turned onto the onramp that would get me onto McLoughlin, I dropped the Mustang out of gear and coasted up behind a little Mazda 626, that was mildly tricked out, including an exhaust note was louder than normal.

The exhaust was that terrible ‘buzzzzy’ sound that the kids have with their lil’ 4 bangers with a coffee can exhaust to make it “louder” than it really warrants as they normally don’t have much to back up the noise. The Mustang, even stock, easily had that note beat. Not louder per say but it was the difference between an alley cat’s growl and a tiger’s.

It was customary for me to glance to the left as I pulled up to the stop sign and check out the traffic as it approached this pseudo onramp/intersection. The 626 driver either wasn’t paying attention or couldn’t tell that there was no traffic in the lane he needed to merge with, I grew impatient as we waited.

Finally, he pulled out onto McLoughlin and accelerated modestly. Not wanting to wait on him again, I goosed the go pedal a wee bit and jumped over to the left lane and around him quickly so that down the road, I wouldn’t have to deal with his inattentiveness.

He however, misinterpreted my move as an invitation to get racy. This is when he starts buzzing around me like a damn fly. That silly buzz bomb, coffee can exhaust buzzes to and fro, me rolling my eyes silently to myself as he tries in vain to get around the other traffic to get around me. Basically, just like an annoying frickin’ fly buzzing around you head.

Normally, this type of behavior doesn’t bother me and today was no exception. I simply ignored him and just kept driving up McLoughlin. As we got further north, the road widened to three lanes and I got into the right lane as was my habit. It wasn’t until there was a third lane that he finally was able to actually maneuver around me. He buzzed right by, I yawned. He kept his lil’ ride in lower gears and I still just couldn’t shake the thought of it sounding and behaving just like a fly.

As we approached Holgate the light turned red. He was in the center lane, I was in the right. He was half a car length ahead of me as Holgate crosses at an angle. As I sat there, enjoying the sunny weather and sweet smell of the air, I knew that he’d accelerate with much more might this time, due to his previous actions.

Like I said, I’m not bothered by ‘speed racers’ when I’m on the road. But as I sat there waiting for the light to change I realized that just maybe it was fly swatting time.

I couldn’t remember a dry day since we’d picked up the Mustang and this was literally the first truly dry pavement I’d seen. So it was then that I decided to let the Mustang gallop. What’s a Mustang for after all.

The light had turned red to let traffic cross McLoughlin and no traffic had turned north onto the boulevard so the way was completely clear. No traffic even in the gas station to pull out in front of me.

It was then that time began to slow down. The light took forever to turn green. Just like when you’re about to smack you palm down on a real fly, you keep completely still and make no sound. I kept off the loud pedal until the light turned green. It was then that I mashed the gas pedal and dumped the clutch.

The Mustang instantly responded and said to me, “What’s that Bob? You want to Gallop??” It complied but not in the way I expected.

Like I said, time has slowed down and suddenly, I felt like Scooby Doo trying to get away from a Ghoul. I had the windows down and I first hear the right tire squeal loudly, then a moment later the differential kicks in and the left tire joins the right tire’s protests. But like Scooby, everything is in motion but I’m not going anywhere.

Still in slow motion I glance down at the gauges to see the flicker of the traction control light, the rear silhouette of a car with fishtailing skid marks in a soft orange glow. Just then, I back off the gas just a smidge, the traction control slows the rear tires just enough, they hook up and I’m GONE.

SWAT!

The Mustang hits red line and I grab second gear and smash down the gas pedal again and I get another sharp squeal from the rear tires and I’m doing more than 60 in just a few seconds. I pop it into neutral for a time, then just ease it into 5th and leave my foot off the accelerator. I’m still doing 55 and I’m easily 3/4ths of the way to the Ross Island Bridge exit before the kid in the Mazda, still going for all he’s worth catches up to me.

Glancing over at him, laughing and grinning like a loon, he’s got his right window down, he’s smiling even bigger than I am and pointing at me emphatically as if to say, “YOU DA MAN!” I give him a friendly wave and just kick my head back and grin even wider.

Like most horses, the Mustang attracts flies but with a tail made from Detroit Iron, it has no trouble swatting ’em!