“…for a very important date!”

I’ve occasionally driven aggressively, and always because I’ve been late for a serious appointment of some kind. Luckily I’m a good enough driver to have never even come close to risking an accident. Okay, maybe I came close.

But there are limits to crazy driving. Even if my life depended on not being late to a meeting, there’s no way I’d drive between 84 and 87 miles per hour in a 45 mph zone. That’s just nuts. I could imagine driving, say, 15 or 20 mph over the speed limit but twice that?

Tiger Woods was nonetheless doing exactly that (i.e., flying down the road at 85 mph) in the region of Pacific Palisades on 2.23.21, and in so doing crashed his SUV and broke a few bones in his lower right leg, resulting in “open fractures” — meaning that bones had pierced his skin a la Burt Reynolds in Deliverance.

Source: A 4.7.21 N.Y. Times story by Kevin Draper.

And speaking of Deliverance, a memory just surfaced that I probably shouldn’t share. Okay, I’ll share it but I want it clearly understood that I personally didn’t do what I’m about to describe. A ’70s girlfriend did it, not me.

Here’s the story (and if anyone has ever heard of this happening between others please advise): When she and a previous boyfriend (some mangy hippie type with a puka shell necklace) were doing the deed, she would pretend she was Ned Beatty and he would pretend he was Bill McKinney‘s hillbilly rapist. In other words, the boyfriend would go “wheeeee!” and she would respond with her own “wheeeee!” and so on.

I’m already sorry for sharing this, but I guess it’s okay as long as everyone understands that I didn’t do this myself.