You never know who you can trust.

Yesterday morning I’m driving home down the beach after getting a cup of overpriced joe at the annoying Starbucks downtown. As I make a left hand turn from Las Olas onto A1A, passing the world famous vomitorium (also known as the Elbo Room) I notice a pleasantly dressed woman in her ’30s in a BMW. We keep pace for a while, and I admire her handsome manner, but not so much as to be intrusive into her metal and glass world. Just past Sunrise, she decides to put the pedal down and kick that German piston into high gear. As soon as she does it, I suddenly remember that there is a cop up the road with a radar gun. I saw the sneaky little bugger on the way down the beach about an hour earlier. As she shoots past me I honk the horn and flash my headlights like a mad man. I’m sure at this point she’s thinking: “What’s this freekin’ weirdo doin?” But about 30 seconds later she found out. The cop waves her over to the side of the road for a little yellow present. You never know who you can trust.