If there’s one thing I learned from my first road trip, it is don’t speed anywhere near Amarillo, Texas.

A little rule of thumb: if you want to know when to slow down, let your nose guide you. When it smells like someone farted and the smell gets considerably worse after you roll down the window, it’s time to slow your vehicle.

“Punch it, bro!” Brian said, sharing a theory, “We should be going at least fifteen over the limit. Every four hours we’ll cut an hour off the trip!”

“Houston, here we come!”

We felt like giants until Billy observed flashing lights in the rearview. “Maybe somebody got shot across town and he’s just in a hurry.”

Busted.

“License and registration, please.”

Billy tried winning over the officer with his charming personality. “We’re having a debate, officer. And maybe you can settle it. What exactly is that wonderful smell? I have my money on beef. It’s what’s for dinner.”

As an enormous stream of brown spit escaped the officer’s mouth, we just knew Billy was going to jail.