I've got a story about how I'll never speed again.

On a road trip from Alabama to Memphis, I'm on US-78. It's a Saturday morning, there are absolutely no cars in sight, so I get testosteroney and bury the pedal in the carpet. I blast past one car...a Neon...maybe an SRT4...I don't know. I approach my car's top speed of ~145 mph. I do this for about a minute or two, and then back off and settle back down to 70. US-78 is like 985 as you travel further north. It turns into a normal road with traffic lights. I come to one and stop, and immediately I see a blue light special in my rear-view. I pull into the gas station on the side, turn my car off, and hear the cop say "Do you have a license?" as he approaches. I'm such a nervous wreck (second time I've ever been pulled over) that I pull out my debit card instead. He laughs and goes, "Can't take payment buddy."

He goes through the typical stuff..."You know why I pulled you over?" I just went ahead and told him...not like I can bull**** him, especially when he tells me he was going 120 mph for a couple miles to catch me. I said that if I had seen him earlier, I'd have stopped. He lectured me for a bit, saying stuff like "When the dashed white lines turn into a solid blur...you know you're flyin. Were you racing that Neon? I know they've got speed limits in Georgia too!" Then he ended it with, "You're lucky I'm not a state trooper, else you'd be in cuffs right now. I've got something better to take care of anyway. Keep it safe out there...five, maybe even ten over is alright."

I shat a brick. Coolest. Cop. Ever...as well as luckiest day of my ****ing life. My luck ran dry that day. I'm never speeding again.