Vo Knows

If I were to have a child tomorrow I think I would name him or her either: Speed, Horsepower, or Adrenaline. While I’m sure my significant other may not agree, I have really taken a liking to those words. They seem to follow me where ever I go. Like this morning coming to work for example. I hopped in my BMW sports cars and jumped on the freeway, expecting a leisurely drive to the office. First one SUV came by me, then another sedan, both going at a good clip and weaving in and out of traffic. The Red Mist descends… As Adam Waheed would say: “Street is a racetrack.” And off I went. You didn’t honestly think I was going to let an SUV and sedan beat me, did you?

I’ll leave the rest for your imagination, just in case any local Irvine police officers are reading this, but let’s just say I was at my desk working away in no time (great for productivity). Like I said, I just can’t seem to get away from those three words. But, to be honest, I’m not really trying to either. I’m sure most of you can relate to my problem. Maybe there is group therapy we could all go to. Adrenaline Junkies Anonymous! It would be a 12-step program. I can just see it now: Step 3 – Go apologize to all of those people who you have beat racing and give them a hug. Psssst … Yeah, right!

I will say that 90-percent of the time I am behaved on the street, reigning in my urges and saving the high-speed antics for the racetrack where they belong. But every now and then my genetics (my father is twice as crazy as I am – no lies) get the best of me and I find myself treating the 405 fwy like it’s the Nurburgring.

God Bless America: The Land of the Free and Home of the Horsepower.