[ WP ] You know the random driver in every action movie where the hero jumps in and orders to `` follow that car ! '' . Yup , that 's you . Every single time you 're trying to get anywhere .

I could n't help it. My eyes locked onto the badge three feet ahead of me at the stoplight as they always do. 
 
 `` WRX STi''. I could almost taste the words as I gripped the steering wheel harder. Car and Driver said this car could take that down without breaking a sweat. 
 
 And then came the thunk of the door opening. I snapped my head to my right to see him effortlessly weave his slim body into my car. He bore the aura of somebody trained and instructed to do a job nobody wanted to acknowledge. You could see it in his midriff placing itself into the seat beside me, the Jr. Executive Joe outfit tightening ever so slightly to reveal the unmistakeable bulge of a knife and a body trained over years and years to kill. Hurried, but not harried was the best way to describe him. 
 
 As I tried to tell him that I was n't his Uber driver, he instead turned to instruct me: `` When the light turns green, I want you to follow that car in front.'' 
 
 I sighed. It was n't the first time and it certainly was n't the last time. It was the same when I lived in Monaco and G______ hopped into my Audi A4. Or the time I visited Tokyo and I had to chase down W______ in my rented Honda N360 at city speeds. 
 I could see out of the corner of my eye that he had his finger on the launch control as he walked me through the process. I think he knew, as he braced himself ever so slightly, knees bowed outwards towards the dash and door. 
 
 Launching a Focus RS is bloody easy. You engage launch control, feed in the revs, and then drop the clutch as you mash the throttle pedal. The car in front also had a similar idea as it launched itself violently across the intersection a half-second before us. 
 
 Shift up. Shift down. Turn left. Turn right. E-brake turn. He instructed me as if I have n't done this before. We're miles in before I realized he never introduced himself. These guys took their security seriously, but they'd still chat. It just took the right prodding. 
 
 `` So, are you with the CIA?'' No answer. `` FBI?'' No answer'' `` He grimaces and flashes the secret gesture, the one that F_____ used back when we chased down Z______ for Operation: ( name redacted ) back when I lived in Zurich. 
 
 `` Oh so you know F_____?'' I asked, as I swerved to dodge an oncoming BMW. `` Yeah, he got transferred to Fairbanks after Z_____' s guys shot him during ( name redacted ) in Zurich. You ever been?'' 
 
 `` Yeah, I did!'' I was so glad to find some common ground with my new friend as I drifted the car around a crowd of pedestrians to follow the Subaru down into a pedestrian mall. `` I drove him around while we were... doing something like this.'' 
 
 `` Oh shit, no way!'' He smiled for the first time since he got in and he started relaxing. The little Subaru launched itself over the stairs on the other side, landing sideways on the road and scrambling furiously for traction as it laid down fat black stripes. 
 
 `` How's his wife taking it? He's got what, like two kids?'' `` Yeah, something like that. They're finally learning how daddy pays the bills.'' `` Shit, that's brutal, but you guys probably get some fair compensation.'' `` Yeah'', he mutters, `` it's alright.'' A woman screamed as I shot past her on the wheelchair ramp. This car was too new to be jumped. 
 
 `` Huh, so how's this job pay? I'd figure you'd get, like, six figures or something.'' He pauses as I flicked it down the alleyway, cutting off some poor schmuck in a Toyota Corolla. `` Yeah, something like that.'' `` You guys hiring CPAs?'' He waited a beat. `` Yeah, sure, just shoot me an email with your resume, I think Janey in accounting says we've got something like that open.'' 
 
 We rejoined the road just behind the Subaru. It's looking a little beaten and the poor dipshit behind the wheel probably was n't going to last much longer. You can tell by the way these guys start responding to obstacles. First they weave a little harder, a little more erratically than normal. Then they'll start mussing up braking points and barely miss the obvious in front of them. These idiots practically take themselves off the road. 
 
 This was no different. There were four sets of flashing lights and a down gate, but our friend gambled on the laws of physics and lost. Looking back, I wondered if the occupants felt anything as the 300,000 pound commuter train slammed into the dinky Subaru Impreza, dead-center without slowing down. The car clumsily landed into a somersault and tumbled into the bushes, a hulking and steaming mess all the way down. 
 
 I pulled up to the wreck and he hopped out. Jesus, it was brutal. I'm not a doctor, but I could easily tell from the slumped heads that both the driver and his occupant were very much dead. The passenger even had an MP5 submachine gun in her hand. Enough to stop us, but not the train that had just come to a screeching halt a half mile mile away. 
 
 Unfazed, my new, still-nameless friend reached into the gaping trunk, dug around, and fished out a little box that he tucked inside his jacket. He walked back, grinning this time, with another card in his hand that he handed to me. 
 
 `` Oh, by the way, I'm H_____. Here's my card with my email. So, uh... yeah send me that resume and I'll forward it over to Accounting.'' 
 
 I took a page from his book and slipped the card into my breast pocket. As I looked up to thank him, H____ was gone. By now, the crowd around the halted train started to meander towards the crumpled Subaru. 
 
 I decided to take a page out of H___'s book and drove away, fully expecting to meet another of one of his colleagues at the next intersection.
