Why I’m Glad I Got A DUI

Source: Image by peshkova on Adobe Stock

Bombing down the Garden State Parkway in 1999, I wasn’t shitfaced, but I shouldn’t have been driving. My friend George was riding shotgun when I asked, “Wanna see how fast my car can go?” Before he could even register surprise on his face, I stomped on the accelerator.

The speedometer on my burgundy ’89 Mustang GT maxed out at 140 miles per hour. I had almost reached the limit when I saw a swarm of brake lights suddenly…