who doesn't want to admit it, but he raced another vehicle something fierce on a public road today.
He usually never falls into this type of behavior, and knows full well it's dangerous and unsafe for him and the other drivers on the road. But sometimes as we all know life gets a little boring and we want to insert little episodes of the movie Bullitt into our real life.
So there he was minding his own business on the Merritt Parkway (CT), at the southern end where it's nice and curvy. And so the catalyst pulls into the picture. A Mercedes ML63 AMG with all the bells and whistles.
The SUV pulls up real close on the 2 lane, just a couple feet from the cage in front, and decides to ride the center dash line to keep anyone from passing him on either the right and left, looked like a young guy, maybe Dad's car, maybe trustafarian, who cares.
So my friend decides to squirt out of this clusterfuck of metal, and does so leaving the parade in the rear view. But here comes something, something angry, and very fast, it's the Mercedes, and this guy ain't playing. He drove like he wanted to die, like he would sooner kill himself than have the motorcycle pass him.
So into the walled sweepers, both vehicles doing in excess of 125mph on a road that just ain't straight. The bike then decides he would rather have the 2 ton vehicle in front of him than up his ass behind him, so he pulls over for a split second to the right lane. The Merc shutters from behind, diving in an all out brake to avoid punting the bike. The young driver's eyes in the rider's rear view were like white saucers.
Then my friend hears through all the commotion the sound of the AMG, it sounds like a race car, all 503 horsepower, grunting and snarling through the traffic. This kid is driving this thing like a lane splitting motorcycle. The bike pursues out of sheer principle if not a hint of competitive stupidity.
At one point they reach 138mph in a sweeper, the Merc doing a full tilt tire squeel into the left banker, the bike fully laden with a weeks worth of travel gear in all 3 oversized containers. The rider pushing all his weight into the left peg, shoving the end of the left grip, countersteering, the rear wheel feeling kinda squishy and starting to slide. The suspension at zero give, fully compressed.
At this point the chase has gone on for approximately 20 to 30 minutes, so my friend smartly decides to take the red glasses off and let him go, counting his lucky stars that he still has a license. He says softly in his helmet; we will meet again Mr Mercedes, but probably not. You are not long for this earth man.


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