I'm a half mile behind Tech. I know his game and it won't play. I pick up my cell phone, "Heya, he's coming up on you. Lay the strips."

Just as Tech runs over the tack strips which gives him four instant flats, I hang a hard right. My partner retrieves the tack strips quickly, hops back on his motorcycle and peels out, spray-painting a yellow stripe down the side of the Astin as he speeds by, leaving Tech staring at his disabled Astin Martin with a brand new yellow stripe.

Little does Tech know when he gets on his NeoCon computer, the only thing coming out of that will be gobbledygook instead of the smoke and mirrors he plans to write.

Next up, we're going after his boss.

:-)