Owning a Porsche has given me a number of reasons to share experiences with people on the road that, I am certain, we all have experienced. I thought one way to share these would be to discuss what we have to endure as owners of an iconic sports car at the hands of those less fortunate.

I don't mean to imply any type of arrogance, only to point out that those who choose to own a Porsche face unexpected hurdles that must be dealt with on a daily basis. I would like to share one of mine in hopes of spurring on all owners to share their stories.

I have always wanted to own a Porsche. My father owned three: 928 S4, 944 turbo and 911 Carrera S. I drove all these cars and absolutely fell in love with the brand. Finally, after working for a company for 20 years, I began looking for a previously pampered 911.

I received the mandatory spousal approval, then began my search for a 4-year-old 911. It was early 2009, the economy had tanked and I had just started talking cars with a friend of mine. I told him of my desire for a 911. He wasn't a car guy like me but wanted to do what he could to irritate me, so he began looking for a 911 for himself with the intent of angering me by buying my dream car before I did.

Well, that didn't sit well, so we both ended up buying cars at the same time. I abandoned the used car search as Porsche had done the unprecedented. The recession of 2009 hurt sales so they had an unadvertised special where you could buy a new Porsche for under cost. As a result, I bought a new 911 Carrera S coupe, and my friend purchased a 911 Carrera S convertible. When I went to pick it up, I was so stunned by its beauty that I was afraid to drive it the 90 minutes back home.

I did arrive home safely and begin to gingerly drive my car around town cleaning it at the end of every day. Occasionally, I would take my wife on a trip to watch my daughter at a dance competition, but at regular 10-minute intervals would leave to check on my car.

After about 3,000 miles, I started to become comfortable with the manual gearbox and began to use its power. I enjoyed the acceleration and confidence the car instills in you and began driving it confidently. I wasn't an aggressive driver, but when behind an old Buick, I would pass at all costs going whatever speed was necessary not to have to stare at the back of it.

It was at this point I noticed other drivers and their behavior. I was oblivious to other drivers at first as I was concentrating on not killing the car at a stoplight and looking like an idiot. I wanted to improve my shift points and enjoy the engine noise. But once shifting became second nature, I noticed other drivers and their reaction to the car.

I categorized them in thirds. The first third did not care about the car and ignored me as they did all drivers. The second third love the car and wanted to follow me to admire the view.

The final third is the source of this article. They want to prove that their car is faster or as fast as mine without costing nearly as much so that they can laugh at you. In my experience, these are primarily drivers of Mustangs, Ford F-150s and modified Japanese cars. So here is my story.

Roughly six months after I bought my car, it was the spring of 2010. I drove my car to work and looked forward to the drive home. It was sunny and 80 degrees — a perfect day for a drive. I decided to leave work early and take the long way home. The route would take me on the expressway for about 10 miles then exiting with another 5 miles to reach home.

As I left the office, I began the drive to I-65. As I approached the on-ramp, I was behind my nemesis, an old Buick. I think my Porsche was the Buick owner's nemesis as he immediately slowed down to 20 miles per hour on the ramp when he saw me in his rear-view mirror. I had no way to get around him, so I exhaled and patiently waited, contently knowing that this is part of owning this car and soon I would be rid of him.

As we approached the end of the ramp, I was finally able to let it rip. I looked for traffic and saw an F-150 several hundred yards back and began to merge over to the left lane. I indicated and began to accelerate by dropping it into fourth gear my favorite and started to go.

For some reason, I looked in my mirror again, and that F-150 decided he didn't want me in front of him and accelerated to about 90 miles per hour just to prevent me from getting in front on him. He was right on my tail, preventing me from merging into the left lane, and I saw him laugh as he blocked my merge and passed me at 90 mph.

I usually don't let this bother me, but I would not let this one go unchallenged. I immediately changed to sport mode and took off after the Ford. It took me about 3 seconds to get next to the truck when I saw the Christmas tree lights in my rear-view mirror. The lights belonged to an unmarked state trooper who must have been watching events unfold from behind.

My heart sank as I anticipated my first ticket in my new car for reckless driving. My insurance would skyrocket, and who knows what the ticket and fine would be.

I decided to drop behind the F-150 in the right lane and wait for my fate. The trooper was gaining fast as the truck also saw him and slowed to below the speed limit, hoping the radar didn't clock us both at 90 mph. To my surprise, the trooper swerved in front of me and got behind the dreaded F-150 with lights blazing.

I slowed down more as the trooper pulled the truck over. I wasn't sure what to do, knowing full well I was speeding and thought he would welcome a two-for-one ticket to fill the state coffers. I decided to drive by the trooper who was out of his car and began his approach to the truck driver.

I looked at the trooper, he looked back, and I put up my arm wondering if I was to pull over as well. The trooper looked at me, smiled gave me a thumbs-up on the car a waived me on. I couldn't believe my good fortune! I was so relieved and also felt vindicated that the truck driver would face the wrath of the law alone.

This incident was the most blatant of the types of drivers we all face in the last third group. All types of cars and trucks pull next to me wanting to prove that whatever they drive is just as fast as my car.

As I have gotten older, I ignore these people. The way I see it, I have nothing to prove. I am oblivious once again to those around me and continue to enjoy driving a truly wonderful driver's car.

However, my competitive nature may again surface, so watch out if you see a silver 911 Carrera S hitting triple digits on I-65 in hot pursuit of an F-150 ever wary of hidden-but-fair-minded state troopers.