Tuesday, September 7

The sporting life for me

If NASCAR is a sport, I've decided that my morning commute is a competitive event. You shouldn't be able to win the big prize without taking a few laps around Boston. The outrageous speeds are just like the track, and no one has any idea of what space means. I always get stuck behind the pace car.

I'm serious, people. I want some guy standing at the end of my driveway with a green flag to wave me off in the morning. I want another guy with a stop watch waiting when I pull into the parking garage in the morning. I want him to tell me how much I am off the leader and if I've shaved any time off of my personal best. I want other cars to be forced to pit when they clearly need some work. I want a big shiny cup and lots of prize money and hot chicks when I beat everyone else to work. Is that so much to ask?

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