On a trip down to Arizona a few years back, my family was driving through Salt Lake City, just leaving the southern city limits I believe. The interstate was as crowded as you can imagine, being that we went through there at 5pm or so. Then some jackass in a red convertible just rips past us, weaving in an out like he was in the sequel to the Transporter. Needless to say, we were fairly annoyed -- traffic violators are a sensitive topic in my family.
About 40 kilometers later traffic backed up to a standstill. Turns out there had been a massive accident and we could see some smoke rising further up near an interchange. As we finally inch past, lo and behold, it's Speed Daddy's red convertible upside down and on fire. There was a mini van on the other side of the highway that had it's back right side torn to shreds. I didn't see any people standing around other then the firefighters and police, but it was a fairly grizzly scene.
I've never understood why some people drive like that. They are tempting fate every time they hit the road...
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