Don’t make me go all Carl Edwards on you!

So I’m driving into work today on my 29 mile mind laden route, listening to Ace & TJ, minding my own business, just so I can make a buck or two. As I approach Speedway Blvd., which means we’re on a two lane stretch of I85 that is about to open up into four lanes, the pickup truck in the right lane decides he needs in the left lane. I’m really not sure why. I don’t think there was a wreck to go around, no deer running across the road, and I’m fairly certain there weren’t any alien ships randomly sucking cars into the air. So as far as I could tell, there was no reason to swerve into my lane. Nonetheless, this turd head did it anyway.

Do you think he used a turn signal? Hahaha, yeah, that was funny, wasn’t it. No, he didn’t use a turn signal. Turn signals are for teenage girls and Grandpa’s apparently. I’m not sure how I missed that memo at the DMV. Maybe it was a jam packed day when I renewed my license and someone was standing in the way of the sign. Anyway, back to no signal, swerve in my lane guy. So he swerved into my lane AND didn’t use a turn signal. No worries. Even if he had used a turn signal, I wouldn’t have been able to make room for him considering the Freightliner that was reading the junk mail in back seat. Oh yeah, he was probably 10 feet off my bumper; lights shining in my rear view mirror and all.

Don’t get me wrong. 10 feet from my bumper was appreciated. Especially considering Mr. Swerve with no signals pulled less than that from my front bumper. Oh yeah, I’m serious as type 2 diabetes (which the DRs say I’ll probably get one day by the way). I bet you he pulled 5 feet in front of my bumper. No lie. My only response was to throw up one hand (and not one finger Dad) and say “really…that had to happen?!?”. Then I shook my head. What else could I do?

That’s when my mind started to drift off into Nascar land. Remember, all this happened at Speedway Blvd., mind you. I imagined that for a moment, I was Carl Edwards. And the truck in front of me was Brad Keselowski. And the semi behind me was Tony Stewart, Kyle Busch, and Juan Pablo Montoya (a name so nice you have to say it twice…Juan Pablo Montoya). We were headed down the back stretch at Charlotte Motor Speedway (cause that’s how I roll) headed for turn 3. Brad and I had been trading paint all race long and Tony, Kyle and Juan Pablo Montoya were breathing heavy on our necks. I clearly have the lead but as we head towards turn 4, I have to back off just a little so I don’t ride up the turn and hit the wall. Then it happens, Brad begins to turn in front of me and try to take away my lead. I step back into the pedal and attempt to hold my ground. Suddenly the air is filled with smoke and the sound of screeching tires and twisted metal.

When it all clears, Brad is sitting sideways in the road with a crumpled hood and smoke rising from his engine. Tony, Kyle and Juan Pablo Montoya (yes, I’m milking it for all it’s worth) are piled up in a pyramid with smoke billowing from all directions. And as Brad exits his car and takes off his helmet, I begin to smile and the thought that I had won the five o’clock five hundred, even if only in my mind.

So the next time you're driving down the road and you think about cutting in front of the car in the other lane, be careful, be very careful.  It just might be Carl Edwards and as far as he's concerned, that's just racin'.