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Highway Jack

I followed this man half way to Phoenix. Based on his license plate, his personal appearance, his choice of car, his driving style, and my intense boredom, I concocted this elaborate story:

Highway Jack roams the highways of Arizona, maybe the highways of all of America. Jack likes to be comfortable, and that's why Jack drives a car with a bit of power, that's comfortable, and has lots of room. Jack knows every road, every gas station attendant, every cop, every passing zone. And Jack isn't afraid to pass. Jack doesn't drive crazy, but Jack has been driving long enough to know that the miles tick by at a much more comfortable rate when the needle is above 90. Not above 100, that would be ridiculous. But 80, 90, that's a good speed for Arizona's roads. Jack has a radar detector, and knows when to slow down to avoid getting a speeding ticket. Jack doesn't hate cops, mind you; Jack has a certain sympathy for them, since he chose his car for the same reasons that the police choose that car. But it's a gentlemanly agreement that if Jack doesn't drive too fast around cops, cops won't have to mess with Jack.

Eventually Jack's taste for going 20mph over the posted speed limit was more than I could stand, so I stopped following him. But I can't help but feel that I encountered a legend today. Admittedly sort of a dull, mediocre legend, but in this day and age this is what legends have been reduced to. I blame the Republicans.

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