Quote:
Originally posted by Replaced_Texan
I've never understood vanity plates. There's no way in hell I'd want my license plate to be easily remembered. You never know when you need to make a quick, anonymous getaway.
ETA: ncs's footnote makes me think that I've probably made this statement repeatedly over the years, too. It'll be followed, if memory serves correctly, by a snippy comment from Thurgreed or Burger about my driving. We're all an old married couple.
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Once leaving a football game with 108,000 others, I had a traffic jam fight with an asshole. There's this big line of people waiting to go through a light. we aren't moving much. Anyways this Porsche comes roaring up along the line and gets as far as he can go before he wants to cut in. he's trying to cut the line by about 10 minutes.
It's 3 really drunk old lawyers. They are trying to edge in front of me and we have a game of chicken. I know they're lawyers because the one in the passenger seat was a big enough dick to tell me that I'd be sued if I hit them, what with them being 4 important lawyers and all.
I played it for awhile, but the driver was clearly nuts. My grille had been smashed the week earlier. The driver of the Porsche was playing chicken with a car that was already smashed, I figured he would back down, but he didn't. I eventually backed down- because I had my kid and dad in the car.
He was in front of me in the traffic jam the next 10 minutes and I can still see his personalized plates that read "Leet."
First thing I did when back home was look through bar directories trying to find him. then I send emails to friends at the bigger firms trying to find him. No luck.
The following Saturday my daughter and I are driving through Birmingham and a Porsche passes me going the other way. Something about the driver was familiar- as he got past I saw his plates "Leet." I whipped around and followed him for a mile or so but he didn't go home or park anywhere. Eventually I had to leave.
A few weeks later i walked into a Birmingham coffee shop and sitting there was the guy. I wouldn't have remembered his face as Leet's save for seeing it again that one Saturday.
So I walk up to him and say "Hey you're Leet, right? I'm the guy you played chicken with after the M/MSU game, remember? Piece of advice? Either quit being a dickhead or get rid of the vanity plates, because I know exactly which car is yours and I walk by it all the time parked. Next time maybe you'll piss off someone who'll fuck up your tires. "
I said it really low and measured like Clint Eastwood.
I would never get those plates, AND I drive like a gentlemen. You never know who you're pissing off accidentally.
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