I love Macallan 25 Scotch. However, I’ve only tried it a couple of times, since it’s over $500 a bottle. Here is a story of one of those times…

One day while driving my 350z roadster, I got into a race with a Ferrari on the way down to San Francisco. It’s not like me to drive recklessly anymore, since I’ve had my fair share of accidents and piles of speeding tickets, but I was already pissed off at my boss who intentionally kept me late in a meeting fully knowing that I had plans to attend a concert in the city and that I needed to leave early. I was running late, pissed off, and driving like a bat out of hell. To add to my sense of urgency, I was holding an extra ticket for one of my buddies who had called while I was on the road to tell me he couldn’t make it. This put even more pressure on me to get to the venue before the show started so I could sell the extra ticket. Plus, some other friends, who I had planned to meet before the show, were calling me from time to time asking me where I was.

I live in Sonoma County, and so I take 101 south to San Francisco which is about 60 miles away. At this point, I probably should have had some calming smooth jazz on the car stereo, but instead I was listening to AC\DCs “Highway to Hell”.

The final straw was that a brand new blue Ferrari passed me like I was parked on the highway even though I was actually going 80 mph. My angst over the days events, the fact I was running late, and my fragile mid-life ego got the best of me, and with Bon Scott screaming in my ear, I stepped on the accelerator. As I chased the Ferrari, at one point I hit 130 mph.

I eventually caught up with him, and when he noticed, he sped up, and then the race was on. He tried to lose me, but at these speeds even light traffic is a major concern. It became a dual of who could pick the most strategic path through traffic. He made a wrong move by going into the express lane and got slowed down by a left lane lingerer who are very common in the north bay area. Meanwhile, I chose the far right lane which cleared up at the last minute and I went past him.

I was still ahead of him when we cleared the tunnel in Marin just north of the Golden Gate bridge.

As you come out of the tunnel it’s a really beautiful sight. You can see the top of the Golden Gate Bridge and then you go down this long hill in a large 3-lane “S” curve first to the right and then to the left. Because we were in the middle lane with traffic to our right and left he couldn’t pass me. As we came out of the second turn and approached the bridge the left lane opened up and he tried to pass.

What he didn’t pay attention to was that the movable plastic lane markers they change everyday to maximize traffic flow on the Golden Gate Bridge were converging and closing the left lane. Those markers are these hard plastic orange poles that are about 3 feet tall and 4 inches in diameter and stuck into holes in the highway every 4 feet. As he tried to go around me, the lane disappeared and he smashed through them. You could hear the sound of the poles crashing into the front and sides of his car. I don’t know how he avoided hitting the car behind me.

At this point it occurred to me just how stupid I’d just been. I wasn’t just risking my own life but those around me. My heart was racing and I tried to calm down.

After getting through the toll booths for the bridge I drove towards the Marina District. Just as I was getting through the marina district that blue Ferrari pulled up behind me flashing his lights and honking his horn.

I didn’t need this. I tried ignoring him, but he kept running up behind me flashing his lights. He clearly wanted to talk this over. I didn’t want to get into a fight. I had a concert to go to, but this guy might just follow me all the way to the Venue and I didn’t want to make a scene there, so I pulled into the Safeway parking lot on the corner at the far end of the Marina district.

I got out my car first, thinking I that I should take the offensive, and see if this guy backs off. I approached his car with his arms out as if to say “What the fuck?”

He got out and turned out to be skinny bald dude probably in his mid 50s, and was clearly going through a bit of his own mid life crisis. He approached, and walked to with in 4 feet of me, then he stopped, put his hands on his hips, and gave me a quick upward nod with his nose as if to say “What’s up?”. I returned the nose nod gesture and said “hey.”

He smiled and said, “That was fun wasn’t it?”

I smiled and said “Yeah. I guess”

Then he asked, “Do you drink scotch?”

I said, “yeah.”

“You want a drink, I’ve got some in the car?” he asked.

I said, “sure.”

He went back to his car opened the car, and pulled out an aluminum suit case. He sat it on the ground, opened it up and there was an unopened bottle of Macallan 25 and a couple of shot glasses. He opened it and poured us both a couple of fingers of scotch. He handed me glass and said “Cheers”.

As we drank the scotch he showed me his car which he said he just bought for $290,000. Actually I guessed that it was $300K, but he proudly corrected me and said he got it for $290K. I apologized for the scrapes on the front and sides of his Ferrari. He said he didn’t think they were a big deal and he thought they’d be easy to fix. We looked at my car and he seemed to like it but we agreed that he could buy ten 350z’s for the price of his car.

After shooting the shit a little longer, I told him I had to run to get to a concert and that I was running late. We shook hands and parted ways.

I love Macallan 25.