I was out enjoying a nice weekend cruise in my Barracuda, windows down, a nice tune coming from the exhaust and the occasional thumbs up and waves from another driver or two. The light ahead of me turns red, I come to a slow stop and I'm minding my own business when a ricer pulls up beside me to my passenger side. Through the corner of my eye I can see him giving me the once over followed by the revving engine and that awful coffee can sound which my wife says sounds like mated RC and lawn mower engines. Okay, I'll bite and I look over at the kid. He looks at me with a big smile on his face and says, and I quote, " I don't stand a chance do I ". I nodded in agreement, but he still takes off so as to probably tell his buddies he bested a Mopar today. I was not in the racing mood, I gave that up in my 20's. Something came over me. Must have been that tin can exhaust sound, and even though he was already six car lenghts ahead I floored it, the moderately modified 340 came to life, and I quickly nosed ahead of him in short fashion, then backed out of the gas after flashing a smile to his bewildered face. Not a kill mind you, just reminding him about what he said at the light.