Think back on your most memorable road trip.

I don’t know if I would call this a road trip, but it was definitely on the roads and streets of our town, if you will. My friend Cheryl—who, mind you, I’ve always said is in the wrong profession—was with me. Anyway, when we were in our twenties, she always seemed to have foes, usually other girls.

One early afternoon, she came to pick me up at the trailer I was living in at the time. I came outside onto the porch as she walked up to greet me. We started chatting, and lo and behold, a car with two girls about our age sped by, hollering a few choice names at my friend.

I ran down the steps of the porch, put my hands on my hips, and said, “That was uncalled for!” They let out a couple of loud laughs and flipped me off. Cheryl and I chatted about the situation and then hopped in her car.

We got in the car and headed out of the trailer court. Once we were out, we were stopped at a red light. Cheryl let me know that she saw the girls heading toward us. They swerved into the lane beside us, stopped, and threw an open can of soda out the window. It landed on top of our car, and the soda and can rolled down the window, dripping everywhere.

Cheryl looked at me and said, “Put your seat belt on!” Then she swerved over and tailgated their asses down North Grand, going at a pretty high speed before turning off really fast.

We headed down that road until we saw them coming from the opposite direction, so Cheryl quickly turned at the next road we passed.

A bit down the road, we saw a sign that said No Outlet, and we were just about at the dead end when Cheryl saw them in the rearview mirror. She threw the car into reverse and swerved off the road into the grass to miss them, then turned down another side road in reverse. She pulled into a vacant driveway with tons of grass and bushes, edged a little off to the side so we were kind of hidden, and turned off the car.

I said, “Damn, that was some Dukes of Hazzard–type shit.”