Brad Brown

“I don’t know what the world may need, but I’m sure as Hell that it starts with me…” - Cracker.
 

Photo by MiguelB

 

The Police Chase

I was driving to the bookstore one night (a real bookstore, not one of those with adult videos). As I approached the red light, it turned yellow. I decided to accelerate and speed through the light. Simultaneously, a car in the oncoming lane decided to turn left onto a side street, crossing into the intersection in front of me. It was a pretty dangerous move on his part, given that he was only about twenty-five feet in front of me. I felt it was time to dispense a lesson in street justice, so I punched it (a Southern term for “accelerate”), attempting to get as close to his car as I could without hitting it. I like to fantasize that the driver in the other car is thinking “That was stupid of me. I could have been killed. I will never drive so recklessly again. Thank you, mystery driver, for showing me the way. I think I’ve shat my pants!”
 
I barely missed hitting his rear bumper and felt quite satisfied that he learned his lesson. Sometimes, the dragon wins. In shock, I noticed that the other car was a police cruiser! As soon as I drove through the intersection, I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw his blue lights flashing. “Oh {expletive}, I’m {expletive}-ed,” I thought to myself. What was a college kid to do? (This event took place in 1992, so hopefully the statute of limitations has run out.). I decided at that moment to ex-cape as best I could. I accelerated for about a quarter of a mile, then took a quick left down a subdivision. My heart was beating and I was envisioning doing hard time in the county pen. I finally ended up in a cul-de-sac, and decided to stop and wait it out. I turned off the engine, and reclined so as to be inconspicuous. After about five minutes of being conspicuous, it looked like the coast was clear, so I drove back to the entrance of the subdivision, and resumed my trip to the Book Warehouse (the one that was in the strip mall behind the Cracker Barrel in Opelika).
 
Just as I was approaching the mall, I noticed the cop car driving slowly in my direction, shining his spotlight into the rows of cars at the Ford dealership. Apparently, he thought I was hiding among the rows of cars [which was pretty stupid since I was in a truck]. I drove slowly past him in the opposite lane. He didn’t even notice as I passed him. As soon as he was out of eyesight, I sped up like a girl. Brad Brown would live to drive recklessly again another day.
 

Photo by The Consumerist

Duel

 
I was driving up Georgia 400 on my way to my job at Syncor. Passing car after car, I progressed up the highway like a bat out of Hell. About a mile before my exit, a gold Porsche in the right lane decided to move over into my lane. Unfortunately, I was still in the lane beside him. He barely missed hitting my front bumper. I pressed hard on the horn, slammed on the brakes, and yelled “What the {expletive} is wrong with you?” Of course, my windows were rolled up so the effect was lost. I snapped (mentally, like Columbine), and immediately accelerated to catch up with the madman. He had to be stopped at all cost - I was the man to do it. There were several cars between me and the culprit. How would I catch up with him? Suddenly, clarity enveloped me. The grass on the median looked flat to me, so I did the unthinkable. At fifty-five miles an hour, I pulled off the asphalt and onto the grass, bouncing rapidly on the uneven terrain. I quickly overtook the offending vehicle.
 
Once I was parallel with Dr. Evil, I thought it would be good to return the favor, so I steered off the grass back onto the asphalt, aiming squarely for his driver-side door. Fortunately for him, there was no one in the right lane, so after a brief horn honk, he moved over, and then he accelerated to ex-cape my wrath. I drove steadily at seventy miles an hour as he gradually sped away. I kept driving, because people always slow down once they feel safe. Sure enough, after five miles, I saw the Porsche ahead of me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I caught up with him (other than dispense street justice).
 
I sped up until I was about a hundred yards behind him. He saw me, and took the next exit ramp. I followed him into downtown Cumming [seriously, we have a town north of Atlanta called Cumming]. The showdown had begun.
 
In the middle of downtown, he stuck his balding head out of his window and yelled “What is wrong with you?” I yelled back “What’s wrong with your you stupid {expletive}?” As he was yelling at me, he was moving slowly forward into an intersection, paying no attention to the traffic. Just as he entered the center of the intersection, a gasoline tanker truck came out of nowhere and struck the passenger side of the Porsche. The scene was surreal. I can still see the glass shatter into a thousand shards and fly in all directions. The giant truck crumpled the car like an aluminum can. All at once, it became ghostly silent, and then there was an explosion like I have never seen. I raised my arm to shield my beady eyes from the glare, the heat radiating intensely against my skin. I shoved the gear into reverse, attempting to avoid being consumed by the flame. I drove crazily backwards and went off the road into a shallow ditch. I sat there, stunned by the situation. Both the car and tanker truck were engulfed in flame. I then shifted into drive, drove slowly out of the ditch, and quickly sped away. I hope it all worked out for the other guys!
 

Frequently Asked Questions

• BradBrown.com, is there any difference between the thought process of a male driver, and that of a sociopath?
   
  No, essentially they’re the same.

 

• Is there any advice you’d give to the young male driver?
   
  Slow down. You’ll be dead eventually. There’s no sense in getting there sooner. Stay in school. Wrap that rascal.

 

• Is it true that Tila Tequila rejected your MySpace friend request, but that Kim Kardashian accepted?
   
  No, it was the opposite. Kardashian rejected me.

 

• You’re making this {expletive} up, aren’t you? Did you really injure a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm?
   
  No, it’s all true, except for the exploding semi. I stole that from the opening scene to the movie Lethal Weapon 4. I find merging movie scenes into my own life makes the stories more interesting. In reality, the Porsche owner and I exchanged words in downtown Cumming, and then we parted ways. At that moment, the hand of God reached down and I felt a calm I’ve never felt before. I realized the error of my ways, turned around in the middle of the road, and drove slowly to work. Later that day, I decided to make up for all the road games I played over the years. I pointed my browser to ULC.net and became an ordained minister. It was meant to be.

 

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