when i was about 13 i was with my dad in his new toy shortly after his divorce, an 86 or 87ish porsche 944, and we got pulled over doing 139 on a highway to nowhere in nebraska. i mean, what was this cop doing on a road that we hadnt scene one other car on for the last 20 miles, hiding behind a an old barn on the side of the road. (methinks a little nap or some other sort of relaxing activity was going on) Then, my first truck, a 92 Chevy 2500 with a 454, at the age of 15 on my way home from school (school permit) i got clocked by the local sheriff's deputy doing 124 (yes, that was extremely scary and fun at the same time, that truck could move) on the same frickin highway. Luckily, that deputy was also my high school soccer coach, and i paid for it in practice that next spring.
