Yeah. I said I'd be more careful. Yeah. I said I'd drive the speed limit.

And yeah. I said I'd stop racing.

Apparently I forgot just how addicting driving fast is. Especially after not having done it for 44 days straight. Now, to the story.

2 days ago I am driving between work and school (with an hour and a half window, so I am just tooling around enjoying myself) when I notice a riceriffic Civic that appears to be following me. I do a few turns just to make sure, and then head to the freeway.

I slow down when I get on the freeway and wait for him to roll up beside me. I knew he would, and of course that's what he does. Does a smirk at me. It's on.

We stare at each other side by side going about 40. Luckily for us we had just hit a gap of traffic when getting on. We sound the horn thrice and take off. Lord knows what gear he was in, but I had dropped down to second and took off. My second gear redlines at about 70 MpH. Easily ahead of him, we catch up to traffic. Pull in front of him at the last possible second to avoid hitting a Taurus station wagon, at about 95 MpH. He brakes immediately but I keep going up to 125 MpH, am approaching the exit I need to take to go to work (I started in 10 more minutes), and get off.

God how I missed the adrenaline.