"Uh, Dean."
"What?"
"Do you want to let me drive?"
"No. Just man the map Sammy, I don't want us to get lost like we did on the way up here."
"Are you sure you don't want to let me drive? You've only gotten like three hours of sleep in the last forty-eight, and you're nervous about the plane trip home."
"I'm fine Sammy, just mind the map and tell me when to turn to get back to the...Holy Shit! I think that cop's trying to play chicken with us!"
"Dean, pull over."
"Is there a problem officer?"
Several hours later, at the pub:
"...And, it turned out that the two lunatics who'd blown through town on the wrong side of the road and nearly ran me off the road when I tried to get them to pull over were a couple of bloody Americans..." the Scottish police officer said to the amused crowd who had gathered around him. With the story of what had happened that day, he wouldn't have to pay for his drinks for a good long time, that, and he would have a good story to tell the grandkids in a few years.