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behind schedule. I needed to get to Toronto
that evening. I reckoned I had about 130 miles to go, but when a
road sign finally came up, I got a bit of a shock. It said:
     
    Toronto………….220
     
    Two hundred and twenty
miles! Heck, that was way more than I had expected. If I
didn’t put my foot down, it would be really, really late before I
got there. I would have to get a move on. I wondered what the speed
limit was on Canadian freeways. I had no idea – this was the first
time I had ever ventured north of the 49th parallel. I looked out
for speed limit signs, and when I saw one it was good news.
     
    100
     
    100 miles an hour.
Awesome! That was higher than I had anticipated. I would be able to
make up some time if I put the pedal to the metal. I put my foot
down and the Rocket reluctantly revved up to what was probably the
highest speed it had ever attained. The whole car started to shake
and shudder, and something behind the dashboard made a strange,
grating noise. I turned the radio up to full volume so that I
couldn’t hear it. I found a station playing Metallica’s Enter
Sandman and that did the trick. I rocked along at high speed,
singing along as I went.
     
    Exit light. Enter night. Take my hand
    We're off to never-never land!
     
    I think the Rocket
likes thrash metal as much as I do, so we edged a little faster,
both of us making a hell of a lot of noise. We started making good
time now. The miles ticked by, and although the Nissan protested,
it kept going…well, like a rocket! What a car, huh? The best three
hundred bucks I have ever spent. It was getting dark, so I flicked
on my headlights. The speedometer edged up to nearly 100 miles an
hour and kind of jammed there. Luckily the freeways in Canada are
pretty good, so there was no need to slow down.
    I didn’t notice the police cruiser until I became
aware of something flashing in my mirror. When I glanced up and saw
the red and blue strobe light, my heart sank.
    Bummer.
    The Rocket and the police rarely get along well
together. They seem to have opposing views on what constitutes a
safe and legal automobile. The police car overtook me and then
pulled in front of me. I saw the police officer inside point at the
emergency lane. Even a dumb American like me could work out that I
was supposed to pull over.
    I think that what happened next was entirely his
fault. Really. If he had given me some space to stop properly,
there wouldn’t have been an issue. I could have allowed the Rocket
to glide slowly to a halt in the usual way. But the police officer
seemed intent in forcing me to a quick stop.
    Fat chance of that.
    The police car braked, and I had to brake, too. I
mean, I tried really, really hard. I slammed my foot on the brake
as forcefully as I could. I yanked at the parking brake until it
was pointing up in the air like Lars’ dick. But it was no use. The
stopping distance was just too short. The police cruiser stopped in
the emergency lane, and the Rocket gently cannoned into the back of
it. There was a horrendous crunch, and one of my headlights went
out.
    Oh, fuck!
    The police officer got out of his car and stepped
round the back to inspect the damage. Under the glare of my
remaining headlight, I could see a gun in his holster, and a pair
of handcuffs hanging from his belt. I made a mental note not to
upset him. One of his back lights was out, too. He shook his head
in disbelief, then came over to my window. Fortunately, I know
exactly what to do in such situations. This is where girls should
play the helpless female card to full advantage. As I wound down
the window, I slyly undid a couple of buttons on my blouse. With a
male police officer, a bit of cleavage often helps a lot.
    ‘Sorry about that, officer,’ I cooed in my sweetest,
most innocent voice.
    The police officer bent down and poked his head
through the window. He shone a flashlight inside the car, making me
blink. ‘Does your car have a problem stopping ma’am?’
    ‘Oh, no. It