Pete: Whatiya need? Just the regular tune-up?
Mr.Eddy: I want you to ride with me. I don't like the sound or something.

Mr. Eddy: Beautiful. Smooth as shit from a duck's ass. Let's take a ride.
Pete: Whatever you say, Mr. Eddy.

Mr. Eddy: Oh, shit... Is that what I think it is?
Pete turns and looks back. A car is TAILGATING them, the silver-gray Infiniti. The two assistants in the backseat turn nonchalantly to take a look - then they return their look to Mr. Eddy.

Mr. Eddy: This is where power and mechanical excellence pays off.

Mr. Eddy jams the Pullman¹ into the back of the Infiniti and pushes it faster and faster along Mulholland.

Mr. Eddy and his assistants leap from the Pullman and make for the Driver's side of the Infiniti.

Mr. Eddy throws open the Infiniti's door and pulls the trembling and screaming Driver out like a rag doll.

Mr. Eddy pulls out his .44 Ruger Blackhawk and pistol whips the Driver to the ground. He smashes the butt of his gun across the man's face, tearing a gash which starts to gush with blood.

Mr. Eddy: DON'T YOU EVER FUCKIN' TAILGATE...

...DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKIN' CAR LENGTHS IT TAKES TO STOP A CAR AT 35 M.P.H.?

Driver: No.

Mr. Eddy: SIX FUCKIN' CAR LENGTHS... THAT'S ABOUT A HUNDRED AND SIX FUCKIN' FEET, MISTER! YOU WERE FOLLOWING TEN FEET BEHIND ME...

...IF I'D HAD TO STOP SUDDENLY, YOU WOULD HAVE HIT ME. I WANT YOU TO GET A DRIVER'S MANUAL, AND I WANT YOU TO STUDY THAT MOTHERFUCKER...

...AND I WANT YOU TO OBEY THE GOD DAMN RULES. FIFTY FUCKIN' THOUSAND PEOPLE WERE KILLED ON THE ROAD LAST YEAR...

(hitting the driver once again - hard)

...CAUSE OF FUCKIN' ASSHOLES LIKE YOU. TELL ME YOU'RE GONNA GET A MANUAL.

Driver: I'll get a manual...
(almost a whisper)
and study it.

Mr. Eddy throws the Pullman into reverse and pulls back off the hill onto Mulholland Drive. He eases the car into "drive" and leaves the crying and beaten tailgater behind.

Mr. Eddy: Sorry about that, Pete, but tailgating is one thing I can't tolerate.

Pet: I can see that.