In the wake of a truly epic breakup in college, I decided on the way back to Smalltownland from State Flagship U. (a distance of 100 miles from the Virgin Vault to my parents' house) to see how fast my car would go. It was a sporty coupe with a big-bore 6-cylinder engine. I had, thanks to my father's lead foot and high-order gadgetiness, what was, at the time, a state-of-the-art radar detector. I was blowing up the parkway, headed for home, when a carload of my ex's fraternity brothers passed me.
They recognized my car, honked, and roared past.
Not to be outdone, I laid the Black Bomb to the floor and blew out the cobwebs, reaching 120 m.p.h. as I easily overtook them. I gained about five or so miles before the radar detector lit up like a Christmas tree; I checked the rearview to see the bretheren gaining on me. In a slightly evil moment, I braked and let them slingshot by me at probably a hundred miles per hour.
The next time I saw them, they were sitting at the shoulder trying to explain their attempts to break the sound barrier to one of the KSP's finest. I innocently tooled past doing the speed limit, and remembered to wave...'cause you know, my momma raised me right.