Sometimes, things happen so fast we don't have time to feel afraid or concerned. We simply act on instinct and hope for the best. Tonight I watched what could only be described as the "Moron of the Year" award.

The clock on my radio ticks off another minute as I cruise down Loop 820 heading west. It's very late at night and the only things on the road tonight are some weary travelers, drunken idiots and rice boys looking for easy scores while the cop traffic is low. I yawn broadly as I try to remain focused on the road and keep an eye out for my exit. My speedometer reads 65 as I adjust the baseball cap on my head and drum my fingers on the steering wheel. My new Bowling for Soup CD changes to track 10 and I turn it up slightly.

I glance in my driver's side mirror as a set of headlights crest a hill just behind me and get large rather quickly in the left lane. I hold my ground in the middle lane as a late '90s Honda Civic blows past me doing at least 95 or better. My car buffets in the car's wake just as the brake lights come on and white smoke erupts from the front tires. The Civic weaves as the back end loosens and the driver cuts across two lanes and slows down. I glance over as I pass the car, both of us doing roughly 65 now.

The car is a mess, primer splotches dotting the car's surface like measles and a large aluminum wing hastily bolted to the trunk lid. The wheels are covered in the fake plastic spinner wheel covers and the tenting on the windows is shoddy at best. I catch the faces of two teenage males in the front seats as we pass under a street light. The orange glow of the light illuminates their smiling faces as they point and laugh at my car.

I shake my head as I face forward again and keep my pace. I just got my car working properly after a starter issue and I'm too tired to try and deal with two rice boy punks with an attitude. I glance in my passenger mirror to see the car bobbing back and forth in the right lane, the driver cutting very close to my rear bumper each time he ducks and weaves in the lane. I add a little bit of throttle, pushing my car up to about 69 or so.

The Civic dives behind me without a signal and the brights immediately come on, the white light hitting me directly in the eyes as it reflects off my mirror. I wince slightly as I slap my rearview mirror to one side. My night vision slowly begins to come back as I look over my shoulder at the Civic as it rides my bumper with the brights flashing on and off.

"All right," I mutter to myself. "Let's play a little."

I push the clutch to the floor and wrap my hand around the gearshift. The **** is cool to the touch as I pull it smoothly back into fourth and blip the throttle. The Demon listens to my command and bucks slightly as the revs begin to climb, the car pushing itself past 70 and up to 75. I readjust my mirror in time to see the Civic lurch slightly and begin to keep pace. In no time, he's back on my bumper and the brights are on again. I can see both the driver and his passenger laughing loudly at my "pitiful" attempt to get away.

I growl lowly and push the throttle pedal a bit more, the car roaring as the speedometer crests 80. I dare not take this car past this point, as the tires have some good miles on them and they're not rated for faster than this. My exit's coming and I'm not getting a ticket because of these idiots. I glance again and see they're, again, right behind me with the brights still on.

"All right, you win," I mutter as I flip my turn signal and shift to the left lane. Immediately, the bight light fills the cabin once more as the rice boys follow me.

"What the hell..." I ask myself as I change lanes back into the center lane. Again the Civic follows me. The windows are down and middle fingers are up. My exit's less than a mile away and I know I can last until I get there and these clowns can have their fun elsewhere down the highway.

Something in the road ahead catches my eye, and I shift the mirror away from my face as I squint to see the dark blob just barely out of the orange aura of the street lamps. It's less than 300 yards and closing very quickly at 80 MPH.

Suddenly, I can make out the shape of a large sofa looking straight back at me. It's sitting in the center lane upside down with the back facing me. I feel my fingers tense as I quickly figure out what to do. I don't want to eat this couch, as there's enough cosmetic damage on the Demon as it is. I shake my head as the couch looms less than 50 yards away now.

I let it close just a bit more before I jerk the wheel hard to the right. The left front tire squeals as it compresses into the pavement and the car jumps like a high-speed skier into the right lane. The back stays tight as I right the wheel and the couch blows past the left headlight with a mere foot to spare.

All I can hear now is the loud screech of tires followed by a tremendous WHUMP.

I jerk my head to the left to see a shower of padding and wood explode outward, illuminated in the headlights of the Civic as it completely obliterates the old sofa and sends the remains skittering across the pavement. The Civic weaves around all three lanes as it slows down with one of the headlights extinguished. I look forward again to see my exit approaching and quickly get off the freeway. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

I don't know where that couch came from but it all happened so quickly I was more concerned with my own safety than that of those two clowns in the Civic. I can only imagine the looks on their faces as the Neon they're chasing is suddenly replaced with a couch at 80 MPH. Thankfully, it wasn't a fridge or some other large appliance that someone didn't secure properly.

One of those late night adventures you don't read about in the paper.

Had a run-in with my little Civic buddies just a few minutes ago at a service station. Allow me to...ahem...tell THIS story.

I've just completed the routine maintenance on the Demon and took it for a quick spin around my hometown. The oil's fresh, the shifter linkages are all tight and the sun gleams off the car's freshly polished surface. I cruise around town for a few minutes before I stop by McDonald's for a quick bite to eat then pull into a QwikTrip service station to check on some things and get some gas.

I pull up to the gas pump and shut the car down just as the glint of the service station's glass door opening catches my eye. I remain behind the wheel of the Demon as two teenagers exit the store and begin walking over to their car that is at the other end of the station. I shake my head and climb out, going around to the back of the car and flipping the gas door open.

I just finish swiping my debit card and jamming the fuel nozzle into the gas tank when I hear someone shout from across the station.

"Hey you!" the voice echoes under the awning covering the gas pumps.

I start pumping gas and flick on the hands-free device, resting against the fender of the car with my back to where the voice came from. I don't know anyone here and I don't wish to turn around.

"Neon boy!" the voice shouts back.

I look over my shoulder to see one of the teenagers staring at me from across the station. He's white, wearing a cap sideways and a baggy pair of white khakis. His friend stands next to him with a shaved head, a piercing in his lip and a black tank top. I can see the crumpled nose of a white car poking out from behind a gas pump behind them.

I notice the primer splotches on the passenger side fender and immediately know whom I'm talking to.

"Yes?" I reply as I glance at the digital readout on my fuel pump.

"You screwed up my car!" the guy shouts. They both begin to walk over to me.

I glare back at them through my sunglasses.

"You hear me?" he shouts again as he and his friend round another car and make their way over to me.

"Yes, I can hear you and so can everyone else," I reply as I stop fueling and place the nozzle back into the pump. "What is it you want?"

"I'm going to kick your ------, buddy..." the other friend chimes in as I rip my receipt from the gas pump and shove it in my pocket.

"Really? Mind if I know what I did that lets me have the pleasure of getting my ------ whipped?" I ask with sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"You messed up my car!" Buddy screams again, walking around the front of my car and standing at the passenger side mirror.

I spin my hat around just in case I need to get in his face. "If I recall, a couch screwed up your car. I had nothing to do with that. You were following me too closely and couldn't avoid it. If you and your little friend there hadn't been acting like dumbasses I probably would have moved over in time for you to see the couch and avoid it."

Buddy points a finger at me. "You're going to pay for it, man!"

"Bullcrap," I snort as I unlock my doors and walk around to the driver's side. "Find the guys that dumped the couch and I'm sure they'll be glad to compensate your for your damages. As for me, I really don't care about some snotty rice boys in a crappy car."

Their tone changes. I've just challenged their beloved Civic. "Man, my car will own yours."

"I doubt that," I reply as I pull my door open. "This is a 2.0 liter I-4 engine with dual overhead cams with a manual transmission. You little Civic ain't got a chance."

"It's an Si," the other friend points out.

I look over at it. It's not a hatchback and the "LX" designation is right under the taillight.

"Right, guess so. What, you couldn't afford to get your own car so you screwed with your mom's? Great choice there, Pee-Wee." I climb into my car and shut the door.

"I'm talking to you!" Buddy shouts as I crank my engine and back away from them. I just barely put the car into gear before they're in their own car and pulling up right behind me. The begin blaring the horn as I wait for an opening to get onto Jacksboro Highway.

"Man, screw this," I tell myself as I take my opening hard. I jam the throttle and release the clutch. The front tires spin for a moment before I hurtle onto the freeway and take the nearest exit onto the highway. I'm pushing my car hard as I notice the Civic follow me, falling behind quickly. I enter the freeway and take my center lane, the Civic now lost from view.

It was bound to happen. Last night, I had one final run in with my little Civic buddies. I believe that after this episode, I can close the book on this story and move on to another daring "Tale from the Road." For now, let's enjoy this one final moment with Buddy and his beat up Civic.

It's another late night on Loop 820 and I'm cruising back home like I always do. The window's down, the warm Texas air filtering into the cabin and tugging at the brim of my baseball cap. The speedometer shows sixty, my cruise control dutifully holding the speed as I crest a hill and pass Meacham International Airport.

I stifle a yawn in the back of my throat as the radio changes tracks to another classic Bowling for Soup number. I start taping my left foot in time with the upbeat song "Get Happy" as a single headlight crests the hill behind me and closes the distance in the favored left lane.

I glance in my side mirror as the cycloptic car gets closer. I watch him as the nose dips a bit and he slows down, pulling up alongside. I look up in time to see two faces glaring back at me. One of them is wearing a backwards baseball cap, the driver seemingly yelling at me with his eyes. The passenger shoots me the finger. I smile and shoot it back. My eyes drop to the door panel and I catch white paint with primer splotches.

I grin. I was wondering when I'd see these guys again.

I give them a jaunty wave as I roll my window back up and accelerate a bit.

The Civic immediately catches up and I glace over. The passenger reaches into the back seat and procures an aluminum baseball bat. He holds it out the window by the sweet spot and wiggles it at me, shouting and swearing at me through my closed window. I face forward and sigh, not wishing to give these boys any more of my time. A sudden movement catches my attention and I look over in time to see the aluminum bat miss my mirror by a foot and continue downward. It smacks the Civic's door panel with a thunk!

I jam on the brakes, the Demon's nose dipping heavily like it's trying to mate with the pavement. The bat withdraws back into the Civic as he brakes as well.

"Oh hell no," I mutter as I move into the far right lane and pull the gear shifter into fourth. I open the throttle and release the clutch just as the Civic scoots over and I draw alongside.

The Demon roars, spreading her wings for me as I open the throttle all the way. With a slight buck the car accelerates, the distance between me and the Civic starting to open as he shifts to the right lane behind me and throws on his brights. Well...his bright. The Demon crests eighty and I push it into fifth. Her wails are reduced to a throaty growl as I exit the freeway and start heading up the access road to Quebec Street. It's a fairly steep hill, leading to an overpass on the left to cross the highway. The street then continues down beside 820 and spills out at the Marina.

I watch the Civic exit and I shake my head. These guys just won't give up this time.

The light atop the hill goes green as I approach, and I maintain my speed as I crest the hill. I can feel myself rising a bit in the seat as the suspension decompresses for a split second. The car's weight settles back to the pavement as I rocket down the hill towards the Navajo intersection. The single headlight crests the hill and follows me down. I've got about fifty yards on these guys but they want me bad.

"God damn it," I mutter as I ponder my options. My best bet is to lose them on the lake roads. The lake roads are a path of winding and narrow streets that run along the coast of Lake Worth. They're very snake0like and tough to drive on. It's where I practice autocrossing. At a much lower speed, of course.

I close my eyes and pray for a split second as I rocket through the empty intersection. The cop that's normally stationed at the gas station on the corner to watch the stop sign I just blew is not there tonight, possibly busy with the drunkards at the bar up the road a bit. I curse myself for doing something incredibly stupid and glace up, hoping the Civic stops.

He doesn't, nearing getting blindsided by a pick-up as he blows the sign as well.

I stare forward, concentrating on the upcoming turn. It's a 90 degree left turn that, if missed, would send me careening into the Lake Worth Marina's parking lot. I brake hard and downshift, the revs hopping up quickly. With a roar of protest the Demon slows, the nose diving back to the pavement. She wants to run free, not be reigned in.

"Do it for Daddy," I mutter as I jerk the wheel to the left and apex the turn. The left front wheel brushes the grass as I hurtle around the corner. The right tires scream in agony as I rip the car around the turn and accelerate down the short straight toward another turn.

That was all I needed.

I watch my mirror as the the Civic attempts to enter the turn too fast. Tire smoke and dust billows from his car as it slides sideways a bit and disappears from view down a small hill toward the Marina. All I can see now is the cloud of smoke and dust dissipating from view.

I stop the car and reverse, backing up to the apex of the turn and looking down into the parking lot. The Civic sits upright, engine running, about fifteen feet from a bridge column. This thing is huge, supporting the weight of the Loop 820 bridge as it crosses overhead. The two boys are out of the car and swearing, kicking dirt and pounding their fists on the car. I honk my horn and they look up. One of them points and yells.

I give them one more wave and take off, leaving them behind to collect their thoughts.

I know, running the stop sign was a really, really stupid thing to do. But in the situation, if I had stopped the Civic probably would have run into me. At the speed he was going, I couldn't stop and then accelerate in time before he was right on top of me. Now that I'm home and safe, I realize I could have done a lot of things differently and I regret the decisions I made. I could have easily called the cops on my cell phone.

But when he started swinging that bat, it was go time. I was lost in the moment and did what I thought was necessary.