...since entrance ramps are now one of the premiere joys of owning a sporty little Cobra
, upon returning from the tip of the 'Cape ("P-town" as it's known), I decided to "launch" meself properly onto Rte. 6 West at Yarmouth (MA). I did just that and landed right in front of a large, dark blue Crown Vic with anti-sways and semi-fat tires. Instant feather (oh, heck, instant DUMP) of the throttle. Hugging to the right. Signalling like a pro...he flicks left, pulls alongside and gives me the ugly. I give him the Garfield grin back. We cruise catamaran-style, then he grins (grimaces?) and gives me the old thumbs up. He decks the CV a tad and it pulls ahead UNCONTESTED. The little Triple-R is now 2-1-0. I also agree real speed belongs on tracks---or wilderness stretches.
