There has never been a better time for a high-speed American muscle car run along Route 66.By JASON BECK
THE black and white Dodge Charger steams up behind my Mustang somewhere north of 100 miles an hour just outside Amarillo, Texas, sits on my rear bumper and hits its lights and siren.
I am at a loss to explain what happens next.
I have seen enough episodes of “Cops” to know that exiting a vehicle when pulled over by American law enforcement can result in a massive beatdown, tasing, or shooting – or all three at once.
No-one is more surprised than I when I find the Mustang’s door opening, and my left foot hitting the asphalt.
Well, maybe one person is more surprised.
“Git back inna car!” a less than happy voice commands from the rear.
I do not need to look to know that the voice has its hand on the butt of a high-capacity semi-automatic … or worse, the taser, which is likely to hurt more than being shot.
I declare an immediate Code Brown, retreat inside the vehicle, and clamp both hands on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle death grip, eyes to the front.
Overweight Plod, dressed as a Third World general, opens the passenger door in a less than friendly way, and a one-way conversation about my alleged speed ensues.
He swiftly assesses me as a dense Australian tourist, more paperwork than I’m worth, and sends me on my way.
Yet again, the Mustang has proven to be a cop magnet.
It is just one of my Route 66 adventures: along with dodging a potential tornado on the Great Plains, buying the detonating cable from a nuclear weapon in Los Alamos, and watching a buzzard eat coyote roadkill in the Painted Desert.
And all this in just eight days.
There has never been a better time to saddle up an American muscle car, and slam it 2,400 miles across the guts of the United States at 80 miles an hour.
It is the trip that should be on everyone’s bucket list – from Los Angeles to Chicago, on the most famous highway in the world.
Choose a Chevy Camaro, Ford Mustang or Dodge Charger.
Petrol is half the price of ours – no tax – so don’t be cheap.
Choosing a black Mustang convertible, I am not ashamed to admit my heart leapt a little when it growled into view.
Ignoring the purists, I took the West- East route, rather than the more traditional East-West, and never regretted it.
Understand that American drivers view speed limits as guidelines, but police do not.
Even at 80 miles per hour (130kmph) you will be passed, and muscle cars attract police.
Eat at a diner, stay at a $50 Mom and Pop motel. Explore every combination of meat and bread offered by American cuisine. And speak to as many Americans as you can … in their malls, their petrol stations, their bars and on their streets. And learn the defining characteristic of an American … an individual who will not have his or her freedom infringed or limited in any way.
The people of this land have hearts as big as their borders. Our dollar is strong, and theirs is weak. For this brief moment in time, we are the Americans of the world.
