Captain Farrell and The Golden Cadillac

20 May

As you have by now realized, Captain Farrell is unafraid.  He is unafraid to speak his mind (which got us both in more than one fight as children); he is unafraid of hard work (he, unlike me in school, chose to actually do some readings and try to understand things like AP Statistics [We had partner tests – I had an A in the class but had to leave the essay question blank on the AP exam – clearly I was not pulling my own weight]); and he is unafraid to drive ridiculously fast over very short stretches of road.

Now, I am known to have a bit of a lead foot myself, and I do hold several unofficial records for commuting time, including from Chicago to Philadelphia in 1o hours.  (Google maps says nearly 14)  I also may have the world record for 15 passenger van speed, at somewhere around 110, but that was in South Dakota and the road was flat and straight for about 100 miles.  My crazy speeding has limits however, and I usually wuss out before it gets really hairy.  Not Captain Farrell.

The Caddy in Question (or one very much like it)

Farrell’s grandfather, the very same sweet and sage man who drank Carlo Rossi like he had stock options in it, also had a behemoth of a Cadillac; specifically a gold Cadillac Deville.  It had a V-8 that would have moved a herd of elephants, let alone two moronic teenagers tearing down winding stretches of New England road.  As we grew into responsible young adults, and as Farrell’s grandfather aged, Farrell got to drive the Caddy more and more.  Each time Farrell pulled out of the drive he always had a goal in mind: Bury the needle.  Now, I know that’s not all that uncommon for a young man to want to test himself by burying the needle on his first real car – its kind of a right of passage.  The problem was that Capt. Farrell didn’t just want to bury the needle once – he wanted to do it every time he left the driveway, and here I am not exaggerating.

I distinctly remember watching cows fly by my passenger window as we passed 95 on our way to well over 100 on a road that may have been designed for 35, at best.  While I will certainly not advocate this to anyone – let alone any other teenagers (in hindsight, we’re lucky not to be dead after all the stupid stuff we did) – the sheer thrill of moving that fast was awesome.  Though we never got a ticket, and more importantly, we never wrapped it around a tree, I have rarely been so genuinely terrified yet irrationally excited as when Captain Farrell got to drive the Caddy.


One Response to “Captain Farrell and The Golden Cadillac”

  1. captain_farrell May 20, 2011 at 1:14 pm #

    Oh man… I don’t think I ever told you my best speeding story in that thing. I was 17, had a couple of people in the car, and was flying down route 5 at about 105 (I loved the giant, old-people-font, digital speedometer on these occasions). For no real reason, I randomly decided to drop down to 50 *very* quickly, and when asked, I shrugged and said “I’d rather not get pulled over”. As we rounded the very next curve, a cop passed us. I was convinced that I could see the future for about 2 weeks after that.

    Also, while we’re swapping car stories, remember when you bet me that you could take the turn onto my road in your 1980-something tank of a Volvo without dropping below 25 mph? For those that don’t know, “my road” was an unpaved hill, and at that time of year it was also sheer ice and surrounded by giant snowbanks. Thor ended up burying the car in a snowbank, to the point that, when we finally got another car to pull it out, he ended up losing a large portion of his bumper. Oops.

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